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arcticwolfpaws · 3 months ago

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Gotham's light Chap 5 the gala P 1

Faraj

I was cuddled into my bed when I suddenly felt like someone had turned on, I whined softly and covered my head with my blanket when, I heard a soft voice.

“Young master faraj.” the butlers voice called out softly and I whined at him, I heard him chuckle I was about to snap when he pulled the blanket away sending a wave of cold air over me,

“Noooo” I whined trying to find warmth again, I reached for the blanket and had the butler gently pull the blanket away from me.

“Come now young master your father wants to speak with you.” he said and I sighed heavily, laying there I stared at the blurry butler, I sighed before sitting up and I rubbed my hair scratching my head as I did.

“Alright.” I mumbled, slowly sitting up he had his hand out and I reached out to it and found my glasses, I smiled softly as I took them and put them on.

“Thanks….” I trailed off and he smiled softly.

“Alfred.” He told me and I gave him a sheepish look

“Thank you, Alfred.” I got up and headed to the bathroom taking a quick shower, I was quick to towel down my hair and get dress once that was done I paused for a moment and looked at myself in the mirror every thing looked fine, but I had to admit that the large round glasses chose made me look like a nerd, I sighed before shaking my head and heading back into my room only to find it empty, I didn’t know were my father was and this place was huge I supposed I could listen for him. I stepped out into the hallway and Alfred spoke again.

“Are you ready young master?” I looked up at him and smiled softly before nodding as he lead me.

“Alfred… What do you know of my father?” I asked hopping to gain some insight, he slowed his pace and spoke in a tone that reminded me of how Mr Wilson sounded when he thought I couldn’t hear him, such a kind and warm tone.

“I will not lie to you Young master, your father has had times were he has been misguided, but he is a kind and caring man. If you are feeling nervous about meeting with your father then don’t be my boy he is simply wanting to ensure that you know the plan and-” he stopped I followed suite and he set a hand on my shoulder.

“He simply wishes to ensure you are alright, with what is going to happen and how it may go.” He stated firmly and gave my shoulder a light squeeze, before he started moving again and I followed him, he stopped in front of sturdy oak doors and he knocked.

“Come in.” Alfred opened the door and stayed outside as I walked into the room, a grandfather clock sat off to one side a hearth in the middle of the room and a large desk likely made of some old wood the room smelt of books and some probably pricey cologne.

“Faraj.” His tone was warm and affectionate, he leaned forward over the desk before waving to the chair and this felt like it was going to turn into an interrogation.

“Make your self comfortable I wanted to go over some things with you,” I slowly got in the seat and breathed shifting a little, he frowned a little and spoke in a soft tone.

“You aren’t in trouble, there’s no need to look so stressed.” I looked up at him, he had a soft smile one of those ones that were reflected in the eyes, I looked away fast enough I nearly lost my glasses and was forced to push them back up. He sighed but cleared his throat and spoke.

“I wanted to go over what I’m going to tell the public about all of this.” When he said that I knew he was going to do the best he could to make himself look like a saint, I wondered if keeping me was going to be some kind of P.R stunt.

“I know someone… you said they looked like me, signed you up at Gotham Acadamy, since we don’t know who I’d like it if we could simply say that your mother whoever she might be, had left you with me and that I’ve been letting you adjust to a new life style. However if that isn’t what you want to say we can talk about it and come up with something better.” That last part threw me for a loop and it took me a moment to think clearly,

“oh… umm w-well that sounds a-” I cut myself off having to find less eloquent words to use and it took me a moment to do so.

“That sounds okay… I don’t know what else we’d tell them.” I mumbled and he nodded a soft look on his face before he spoke again.

“You don’t have to hid anything from me Faraj.” That I doubted, I had plenty of things to hide, my training for one. I didn’t say anything and he sighed softly.

“I know that kind of trust takes time but I hope that I can get there with you.” I wondered if he ever lost that warm tone or if it was something he simply put on for me, but after he had spoken he cleared his throat.

“Tonight’s the gala and while I’m planning now for it to be a sort of introduction for you but as I said I’m going to be doing an interview before hand I’m hopping to keep the reporters that I allow at the gala from bothering you to much, however if they start to do so come find me Dick or Jason.” There it was his tone was a bit sharper now as if trying to give me no room to argue. However I wondered if he’s thought about the blaring problem with that. But I wasn’t going to point that out, I could escape if I needed.

“What am I going to wear?”

“Do you remeber when we went to the tailor?” We did what? When the hell did that happen? I nodded slowly.

“Along with some cloths more your style I had them make you a suite, nothing as formal as mine, I wanted it to show some of your personality since it’s your first time wearing one.” His statement, Oh dear… what the hell did he think my personality was like? A suite defiantly didn’t fit where or how I felt the most comfortable.

“Alfred is taking it to your room now, I don’t need you to change until after lunch but once people begin to arrive for the gala I want you close so I can introduce you to some of the family friends.” Great people that’s just what I wanted tonight was going to be hard enough, I knew I was going to feel like a trophy on display at some rich mans house.

“Right.” I looked away trying to think I ran a hand through my hair and lightly pulled at it until I felt a large warm hand over my own causing me to jump as I looked up at father.

“Careful do that to much and you might damage your hair.” His warning was warm gentle like he thought a sharper warning might frighten me, What was I? Some frigh-Oh wait.. in his eye’s I was. It was so easy to forget what I was acting as, some vaguely lost child, I guess I was a child and I was lost just not scared or foolish.

“It helps me think.” I mumbled and he frowned for a moment then seemed to come up with and Idea as his eyes seemed to shine,

“We’ll, get you a stress ball.” He gently ran a hand through my short wave hair, I couldn’t begin to describe the strange sense of peace it had given me I felt as though my mind had shorted out. I felt like someone hand slapped the rest button and it took me a long moment for me to regain my bearings.

“Go play for the time being.” With that I was on my feet and out the door rather quickly, I knew better then to linger and mess with business.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Cameras flashed blinding me and I dropped my head, even with sunglasses the bright flashes hurt, I kept my head low as father spoke.

“Yes, I know this is quite the surprised however I wanted to ensure he was comfortable before I put him under the spot light.” Father spoke into the microphones in front of him But I was simply glade that I remained behind him and at least partly out of sight. When everyone started talking over one another I winced and tried to hide more so then I had been before, there voices morphed together in an incomprehensible murmur.

Despite me Hiding people were trying to ask me questions, I was thankful that father wasn’t letting them bombard me. It’s to loud, but I can’t cover my ears it feels like I’d be to obvious but I couldn’t stop myself as they started to try and yell over one another. I held my hands tightly to my ears and closed my eyes tightly as I tried to hide from it all.

When suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder I looked up and saw an older man that I didn’t know. His brown hair was graying but his eyes where gentle as he lead me off the stage and behind it I was surrounded by police. He held out ear plugs for me and I jumped at the opportunity and quickly put them in, he gently ruffled my hair and spoke.

“My boy never liked being at these things either, but Mr Wayne asked I keep an eye on you, don’t think he’d mind you having ear plugs.” he sounded like he actually cared, I was busy trying to fix my hair, after a long moment my father came off the stage he smiled softly as he saw me and spoke softly.

“Thank you Jim.” He stated setting his hand on my shoulder,

“No problem, Mr Wayne he’s still got a lot to adjust to.”

“Will I be seeing you tonight at the Gala?”

“Of course, Barb wouldn’t let me skip it even if I wanted to.” This Jim person joked a friendly smile on his face, I wondered what type of relationship father had with him as he spoke again.

“However I wish you’d have told me about the boy sooner.” Father looked sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck, strange they speak like old friends.

“I’ll explain later…”

“Let me walk the two of you to the car.” Jim stated as he started moving father seemed pleased with it and simply nodded and started walking.

“You know you could ride with us and I could fill you in.” I could see the older man stop as he started thinking before he nodded slowly,

“Alright, if you don’t mind dropping me home. I still need to get ready.”

“Of course.” My father stated as Jim joined us in the limo, I didn’t bother to listen to how my father explained it but when we’d stopped I looked up and took the ear plugs out just in time to hear.

“I’ll see what I can do to look in to that but are you sure you don’t want me looking in to him a little more?”

“No, I have that covered.”

“Alright if you say so.” Jim stated before heading to an apartment building. We started moving again as soon as he was inside.

“So who is he?” I asked and Father turned to me and smiled softly.

“That’s Commissioner Gordon, He’s a family friend you should see about talking to him tonight, Getting to know him would be a good idea just in case you get in some kind of trouble.” I had to wonder what he’d meant by that, what trouble did he think that I might get into? It wasn’t like I planned to get in any kind of trouble, If anything trouble was what I wanted to avoid.

“Oh.. okay.” I really didn’t know what else to say, she smiled softly, speaking again.

“There is going to be a reporter at the Gala tonight we always let at least one in, I’ve limited it to one I trust not to cause problems and while I’m sure she’s going to ask you questions she shouldn’t be over whelming.” I could tell that father had put a lot of thought into this but I couldn’t help but wonder, was it for me? Or for the image he’d built for himself?

#batdad #batfamily #batman #jim gordon #bruce wayne #dcu #dc universe #fanfic #dc fanfic #alfred pennyworth #batkids #the batman

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vee-crytraps · 7 months ago

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Good Luck, Babe! | Ch 1-7 | Ice Cream for Breakfast

{Trigger Warning/Themes Masterlist} This is split into a billion parts because it's long as hell! Read on Ao3 to avoid the headache!

With only one look, you can tell that the question is rhetorical. Damian seems to have put this situation together much quicker than you had. You find yourself a little envious of his talents, but you suppose reading people was a major part of the whole ‘ex-prince of the assassins’ thing. The green in his gaze seems even more unnatural as it reflects the light in the darkness like a cat as he fixes Silas with an impatient stare.

Silas loosens his grip on your wrist, but doesn’t drop it as he catches your eye. He mumbles your name, desperate for an answer. “…No.” You manage. “I don’t feel that way about you, Si. I’m so-“ Silas breezes past you without another word, and your own gaze seems stuck to the ground.

Peeling your bracelet off of your wrist, you chuck it into a nearby trashcan. — “I’m sorry about your friend.” Bruce gently shoulders your bedroom door open, a stack of two large boxes in his arms. Ace is at his heels, padding in behind him. He sets them down near your desk, and you can hardly look him in the eye as you pick at your nails. “I’m not really in the mood for presents, dad.” Damian hadn’t let you leave that roof without prying all the dirty details from you. Your friendship with Silas, the fact that you’d hooked up with him for ‘the sake of getting it over with’ and his subsequent unrequited feelings. You don’t know how much he’d told Bruce, but you don’t regret your choice to have your first with someone you trusted. At the time anyway. Whatever Bruce may or many not know, you know that you couldn’t stomach being on the receiving end of a lecture about the ‘optics’ of your unconventional relationship and rooftop argument with Silas. “I have a feeling you’ll be in the mood for this one.” Taking the initiative, he steps back to the boxes. He offers Ace a nod of permission, allowing the dog to hop onto your bed to rest his head in your lap. Bruce carefully pries open the cardboard, producing something that appears to have been sitting at the top. He holds an electric blue envelope that has your name scrawled across the back of it in handwriting you hadn’t seen since you were six. “What’s this?” “Your last present.” Setting the envelope into your hands, Bruce leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight. And happy birthday.”

— Princess! Happy birthday! You’re 18 now, and all grown up. I shudder to think of all the hell you’ll raise. If you turned out anything like me, give my condolences to B. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you,, but I do know you’re in capable hands. Bruce might not be the best father figure in the world, but despite his icy exterior, I’d never met a kinder soul. Everything he does, he does with good intention. Trust me when I tell you that I would have never left you with someone I didn’t know inside and out. Not to sound like an old biddy arranging a marriage, but Bruce Wayne will do right by you. I can feel it in…what’s left of my bones. Is dark humor still a thing? It’s okay, you can laugh. Don’t feel bad for me, sweetness. And don’t go wasting your life in mourning, haunting Wayne Manor in my memory like a certain specter we know and love. You can probably recount how I want you to remember me. Awesome. Loud. Full of life. Just incase you forgot, I’ve got a few of my diaries and junk journals from when I was about a Junior in high school til about when I had you. If it’s not something you’re into, no worries. You can just hand them back to B, and he’ll probably give them an ISBN and hoard them in his creepy study. Being a woman is…it’s tougher work than they make it sound. And while I absolutely don’t recommend taking life advice from anything written by my hand, I was just hoping that it’ll give you something to relate to when you’re overcome by that shitty teen ‘lost and alone’ feeling. It won’t last forever. I promise. Until then; good luck, babe! XOXO mom. 10.25.12

Chapter 2

#glb!#v.fic

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emcant · 3 months ago

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State of the art (TW below cut, sfw above)

It took Friends With Kids' Kid a bit to get used to his stuffed monkey. A few days ago, his dad sent us a video of them playing with it over the bars of his crib.

It's lost somewhere in the ether, but I've seen a similar video of myself and my dad doing the same thing, and I am so glad that Friends recorded that. Whatever else may happen in his life, now Kid has proof that when he was really small, his dad loved him so much that he made him laugh until he fell over.

I think my role in that process, as the maker of the monkey, always was my career goal. Capitalism aside, I want to make things that people have nice memories with, not strictly of - the finer details of a richer plot in the back corners of their minds. I think I went into film knowing this but not understanding it: I wanted to work on the edgier Adult Swim shorts because they remind me of screwing around with my friends. It's only recently hit me that one gets so much more out of tangible things, and we're kind of turning away from them as a culture. Healthy love is so much more physical than what I was raised to believe.

Anyway, I've hit on something I'd really like to make for myself. I found an old cross stitch pattern of a cat sitting in a portrait pose, and I've customized it for a few friends to excellent results. One of my friends has a tripod cat, and I adjusted the pattern just a bit to reflect that - and she says she teared up when she opened it. In 20 years she'll remember Willow very well, and still have a piece of her to hold. I can't replace Willow - no one can - but I sure can help celebrate her.

I'm pretty open about my folks just consistently stepping in it as parents, largely because I want to normalize it but also because the rabbit hole is always a little deeper than I remember. I've told you stories I hate. This is the story I hate the most.

TW child abuse via animal abuse

My mom used to get me pets for birthdays, Christmas, etc. None of them had a natural death. With the exception of I think one "accident", they all "ran off" shortly after, and I have no idea why. It was 1000% some kind of punishment, but we never discussed it; I couldn't have told you what I did. It comes up quite a bit in therapy because I'm trying to find a pattern for it and I can't. Overall, we're trying to focus on making a narrative, getting down the objective facts, and it's really upsetting to me to have to just boil it down to "my caretaker deliberately hurts things smaller than she is".

The first and the last were cats. Bear, the last one, somehow "hopped" a six foot fence in coyote county... despite being both indoor and declawed. I begged her to help me look for him and she said no and flat out ignored me. Luckily it was my dad's night, and despite the half hour between their houses, he ran me home and we whipped right back out there with "lost" flyers. He doesn't remember it too well, but he was pissed. He very pointedly stapled one to the same fence that Bear got over. Later my mom chewed us both out, I suppose for standing up. We never did find Bear (he wasn't lost) but it never happened to a living thing again, thank goodness. After that my clothes started walking off on their own, but between the two options, I'd take that in a heartbeat.

The first cat was named Pogo, who did have claws and was indoor/outdoor - and also, I wasn't more than 5, and the pattern hadn't started yet. He "ran off" sometime between my dad moving out and my mom and I getting an apartment. I spent a distraught week calling for him every time I was outside, and that was the end of it. I guess I'm still a little surprised; it wasn't yet something I could see through.

Frankly I feel terrible that there is no memorial for Pogo. I can still picture him pretty clearly, and so can my father- he was loved, and his life was forcibly cheapened by someone who hated us more than she loved him.

I believe I'll stitch him up so we can all remember what he looked like.

#he was super cute #like 90% white but with a little orange goatee!!#will absolutely post when i'm done #tw animal death #tw animal cruelty #tw child abuse

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hysteriamodes · 3 days ago

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So, I just need to get something off of my chest and this post may piss some people off and I'm fine with that because I'm not going to hold back here.

Today, I have deleted my main TikTok account. And it's not just because of the rampant misogyny, transphobia, racism, and xenophobia. It's not just those things that pushed me off the app.

As I was scrolling through my friends' page, I came across a video of a mutual making a video reply to someone saying "they're going to be extinct soon, anyways" in reference to Palestinians. So they said something along the lines of "the hotels there are going to be great" and another mutual making the comment (and I'm paraphrasing) how Jared Kushner has potential investments in it.

It was just the nail in the coffin and listen, I am (mostly) white, but I also have indigenous heritage. My paternal grandmother's family were Yoeme (Yaqui) and I grew up hearing things like "natives went extinct" and things like that. I have had the chance to talk to Palestinians who DM'd me on that app. I would tell them that "what you're going through happened to my ancestors too" and the plight of indigenous Americans being so similar to Palestinians.

Plus, after a year of watching parents literally having to carry the remains of their own children in bags and parents holding the bodies of their headless children, I am so disgusted beyond belief that the people I thought would never say this.

And this was because people were so upset with the Biden administration that some didn't vote at all, voted Trump, or went third party. I, personally, voted Harris -- not because I like her, I voted against Project 2025. And the thing here is, BIPOC and queer people said this. I get the anger, but this?

Like, here's the thing: yes, some people within the pro Palestine movement are problematic. Some of them rely on their white savior complex and some are absolutely anti-Semitic as hell. The anger towards the problematic creators is absolutely warranted and the criticisms to some content creators of having anti-black rhetoric. Some of them have pushed BIPOC people down and have been so caught up in this that they can't acknowledge it.

But to sit there and say how an ethnic group is going to go extinct and joke about how the Gaza strip is going to have great hotels while people are still under the rubble is not acceptable. It's not right to take your anger out on Palestinians, they didn't do anything to deserve this.

Like, be mad at the white people abusing BIPOC under the guise of pro Palestine and anti genocide, but don't gleefully hop online and do this shit. I was willing to shrug off people saying "well, I'm going to buy all the Starbucks now" (and I'm going to put aside how problematic Starbucks is before BDS) but nothing will change the fact that the only reason why we have this outcome is because the Democrats consistently have failed since 2016. They have downplayed racism, xenophobia, economic disparities, transphobia, reproductive rights, and misogyny since 2016.

They have consistently underestimated the fervor and tenacity in the GOP and catered to the centrists, flip flopping on issues like immigration, police reform, and reproductive rights.

The people pulling this shit have to suck it up and admit that the Democratic party didn't work hard enough in the past eight years. There's a reason as to why people voted third party, and while you can blame third party results in some states, eventually, you need to ask as to WHY people voted third party. Democrats stuck to a populist, standard "we're not ___" and didn't take the time to reflect as to what their constitutes were saying. I'm sure some of the policies regarding Palestine have had a role in this, but when you continue to dismiss concerns hurting the working class and marginalized communities? Don't be surprised with the outcome.

And at the end of the day, that's still not an excuse to joke how an ethnic group is going to go "extinct". It's gross, absolutely abhorrent.

#human rights #blm #racism #palestine #gaza #presidental election #elections #election 2024 #us politics #misogyny #xenophobia #gaza genocide #indigenous #yaqui #yoeme

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succubusphan · 1 year ago

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The Knight of Wands

Summary: Phil had always had dreams that he couldn't quite comprehend and a certain intuition about what was truly important for his future.

Rating: G

Tags/warnings: No warnings that I can think of. Psychic Phil, fluff, yearning.

Author's Note: This fic was written for @ttlmt for the Phandom Fic Exchange! Hi Bee! I hope I did your prompt justice, it was very very fun to write and even though it isn't really that long I put a lot of care into it. Enjoy!

There is a video linked at the bottom of the post or on the final notes in ao3 you may light. I found it hilarious and very helpful for the story.

Thank you @effingmeteors for being my life saviour and beta as usual.

Word Count: 3.7 k

Read on Ao3

1995

“Where is your bear, Phil? Where is your bear?” Asked Phil’s mum in the video, baby Phil not knowing the answer yet.

Phil kicked his feet as they dangled from his chair. He really liked watching his baby videos even though he was now 8 years old. He sipped on his hot chocolate and added even more marshmallows, suddenly staring intently into the cup and wrapping his hands around it, enjoying the warm feeling.

He grabbed his dream journal and wrote down “Warm” at the bottom of the list. He didn’t really know what it meant exactly, but he knew that the items on the list were related somehow. He had decided to write it in his dream journal because he could sometimes see them in a dream. Well, not actually see them, but - he didn’t know. It was like a feeling, like he knew this person, but he also knew that he didn’t know the person.

He read the list over, trying to piece the puzzle together.

Bear

Malteesers

Coffee

Will Wheel

Warm

His grandma had said that he would know in time, but he wanted to know now! Now! Now!

Letting out a sigh, he fished one of the marshmallows from his mug and ate it happily.

“Phil! Don’t eat too much sugar or you won’t be able to sleep tonight!” his mum called from the doorway to the kitchen.

“I need it to think!” he whined.

“Dinner is almost ready!”

“I will finish it, Mummy! Promise!”

She just shook her head and went back to making dinner.

Phil popped the last scone loaded with clotted cream and jam into his mouth and smiled. Still trying to chew around the big piece, he hopped from the chair and went to switch the video cassette for the ThunderCats one. He made sure to put the tape with his baby videos safely back in his personal collection before hitting play.

As soon as the song came on, he started running around the dining room, swinging an imaginary sword around, yelling “Thunder! Thunder! ThunderCats Ooooh!”

He ran another lap around the room until he was met face to face with the mirror and paused. After staring at himself for a moment, he decided that to truly become a ThunderCat, he needed something, but what could it be? Phil paid attention to his face and if he focused, he could almost see a glimpse of cat whiskers coming out of his cheeks in the reflection. He gasped, happy to have figured that out and made a quick run up the stairs to his bedroom and returned with a black marker.

It took him almost until the end of the song, but he managed to finally look like a cat. One day he would add a sword to the costume, but for now, he felt at peace.

“Are you done, Child?” his mum asked. “Oh! Who’s this?”

“I’m a cat!” said Phil, showing her his claws.

“Oh my!” she said, opening one of the drawers in the china cabinet and pulling the camera out. “What a handsome and brave cat you are!” She snapped a picture.

“Could I get a sword for my birthday?” Phil pleaded.

“We’ll see, love.” She always said that when the answer was no.

Phil pouted but rushed to his chair and drank more hot chocolate. He looked at the opposite side of the table and saw someone sitting there, or the idea of someone. He smiled. “Mum?”

“Yes, Phil?”

“Will I ever have a best friend?”

“Of course! Everyone has a best friend,” she assured him.

“I can’t wait!” Phil said, and added cat whiskers to the list.

---

1998

Phil opened his birthday present and smiled when he saw the Final Fantasy VII game he’d asked for. He was going to enjoy it so much!

He had dreamed about this game for long, even longer than it had been out to the public. It was as if the game was calling to him. For some reason, it felt important to have an item from his list; and he had added "FF" to his list months ago.

He waited until all his school friends had gone home and started the game. After losing three times in a row he decided to watch Buffy instead, but his eyes kept escaping back to the game case on the floor.

His dreams that night were plagued with dark brooding men dressed in black, but Phil wasn’t scared; he knew they were friendly.

---

2005

Long gone were Phil’s magic dreams. He still loved his grandmother, obviously, but repeating things she had told him always got him in trouble, or mocked by his friends, so he had eventually stopped trying to connect with that side of himself.

It was as if he had lost a part of himself, a part of him he didn’t know he loved so much until it was gone. He knew it was the right choice for him, his so-called gift hadn’t done him any favours.

Nowadays, Phil felt nothing but sadness when he opened his old dream journal and saw the list of things that had no way of being related to each other. The last additions had been only drawings: a few sticks in an orange background and a weird circle with mixed colours. Nothing made sense.

None of his friends were a good fit, and, if he was honest, he didn’t even know if this person existed or not.

He was leaving for Uni soon and his mum had asked him to clean his room out and throw away anything that he wasn’t using. So Phil stood by the bin he’d placed in the middle of the room, contemplating his life and trying to decide what part of his childhood he wanted to discard forever.

He looked at the journal in his hand. It was stupid, but he couldn’t just throw it away. Instead he walked over to his bookcase and removed 4 random books, setting the journal flat against the backboard and putting the other books back in their place to conceal it.

Nodding to himself, he continued rummaging through his very messy room. He groaned as he stuck his hand under his bed and touched something sticky; it was all the uneaten candy he’d accidentally dropped, melted by the passage of who knows how many months. He would need to get his shit together or his future roommates would kick him out for being a pig - if the ants didn’t eat him before that.

Then he came across his tiny lion plushie and smiled before putting it in his bag. Lion was definitely coming with him.

---

2006

Phil was back in his room, in the comfort of his family home and somewhat inspired by this new website called YouTube. His friends said he had a bit of a problem with social media because he was constantly on the internet, but everything was just so fun. The idea of uploading a video of his own had been floating around and around in his head for a while, but when he opened a new box of cereal and was met with the prized prize of a black and white little camera, he took it as the ultimate sign that he should do it.

His first Videoblog was a bit all over the place, but that was just who he was. If he wanted to make new friends, what a better way to go about it than to show who he really was, right?

Once the video was recorded, it took him a full day to edit and upload it but it was worth it. He got some comments and video replies immediately! He even got his first subscriber!

Posting that video had definitely been a good idea, no matter what his mates said.

---

2009

Phil’s YouTube channel was quite a passion project for him and he tried his best to continue posting regularly even if he never lost focus on his studies. Uni was obviously more important, but since he would be majoring in video post-production and visual effects, he could pass it as a learning experience.

In February he received a package from his grandmother with a cryptic message. Among the usual ‘take care, be careful and avoid being run over on the 10th of this month,’ she also added her tarot cards with a note that read ‘Use them well.’

He didn’t exactly know what that meant, but in the spirit of being his true self on camera, he decided to talk about the psychic side of his family in a video, passing it as a funny thing more than something that had been a bit of an obsession all his life.

To downplay the importance of tarot reading in the video, he called it “Robot Death Machine,” referencing the electric heater he’d had to rely on because the heating was broken again, instead of anything related to divination.

To begin, he shuffled the cards a bit and laid his hands on the full deck, trying to really focus on transmitting his energy into it. He looked up at the camera and said “Edit that out.” He would pull three cards: one for the past, one for the present and one for the future, with the little booklet with the meaning of each card firmly at his side. He truly needed it, because despite his grandma’s protests, he had never learned that by heart.

He looked into the camera as if he had just begun touching the deck. “My grandma is a psychic and apparently she could have passed the gift on to me, right? Who knows! So let’s look into my future. I’m going to do the following month, so I’m hoping this month will be good.”

“Before this month: it’s the Nine of Cups reversed!” He pulled the card and showed it before reading the meaning. “I was vain, complaisant, over-sentimental, and careless - and I neglected my partner,” he said, wincing at the implication. He didn’t think he had neglected his cheater ex boyfriend, if anything it had been the other way around.

He pulled another card and looked at it. “Currently, the Three of... Swords. Currently I’m entering into a dangerous three-way relationship where heartache is inevitable for one participant - or all.” Wow, he hoped that was not the case; he had enough drama in his life as it was. “Minor surgery is possible. That doesn’t sound good!”

He moved along and pulled the last card, a bit disappointed with the results of the reading so far. “The future: ‘the Knight of Wands. Some guy is going to have a big impact, an energetic warrior, he has a hasty personality and he’s very quick to love or hate.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” Phil said, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’m glad it wasn’t, like, death! And, okay, I’m gonna go eat some crisps,” he laughed at himself. “That’s the first thing that came to my head. No! I’m gonna go change the world in ways you would not believe!”

He waved and stopped the recording.

He sat back against his bed, thinking for a moment. Could it be? He would have to watch out for any new person coming into his life for the next month or so. It could definitely be something, but given that the first 2 cards made no sense, he didn’t have high hopes.

He grabbed his phone and called his grandmother just to be sure.

“Hi!” he said as soon as she picked up.

“Hello, Darling. Did you use my cards?” she asked, not wasting a single second, probably because she already knew he had.

“Yes. I have a question about what came up. The first two cards I pulled made no sense but the third one - I don’t know.”

“What cards did you pull?”

“Uh,” Phil hesitated, looking down at the floor. It was the Nine of Cups, reversed. Then I got the Three of Swords.”

“You were in a relationship, were you not?”

“I was...” Phil said. “But they cheated.”

“Well, there’s the neglect and the love triangle.”

“Oh,” Phil said. “And the Knight of Wands?”

“Was that the last one?” she asked and Phil could swear he heard the smile in her voice.

“Yeah. I don’t think I know any energetic warriors.”

“Perhaps not yet, but you need to pay attention. The Knight of Wands is a very charismatic person, adventurous, competitive, a fiery lad; the salamanders in his coat mean he's resistant to flames.”

“What does that mean? Is he a firefighter?” Phil laughed, not missing that the 'he' came from her first.

“You are taking the cards literally, Philip,” she said, not appreciating the joke. “And I do warn you, the Knight of Wands… He may not be one to settle down, not at first.”

Phil frowned. “Who is this guy?”

“You were calling him, weren't you? For a long while now?”

Phil couldn’t breathe. He blinked repeatedly and coughed. “This month?” he croaked.

“Not necessarily, but it could be. You need to look at the signs.” She waited patiently for him to process what she had just unloaded onto him.

“Is this a friend or…”

“That’s for you to decide. You will have to be patient with him, with both of you.”

Phil groaned. “Thank you, Grandma.”

“Of course!” she said. “You need to trust yourself. Even if you don’t want to share your gift with anyone, don’t try to smother it. It will hurt you.”

“I - Alright. I won’t,” Phil said. “See you soon?”

She laughed. “See you on New Year’s Eve,” she said and hung up.

Phil stared at the cards and began to put them back into the box one by one, just as he had picked them. He closed the box and instead of returning them to his desk, he put them in his backpack. Better to have them close.

By April, and with no news from this ‘Energetic Warrior,’ Phil had decided to move on and focus on the people that were actually making an impact in his life in the present.

It was exciting to interact with the people that watched his videos, especially as he started to be able to differentiate between them. A guy kept replying to his tweets and commenting under his videos with a random username and he looked cute, or at least that’s what Phil could tell from his profile picture.

Phil tried to be friendly and treat everyone the same, giving them the same time and attention, but Dan (danisnotonfire) just kept trying to get Phil’s attention, always being one of the first to reply to his tweets, commenting on his YouTube videos, and even pointing out all the things they had in common, such as their love for Muse and the movie “Children of Men.”

It seemed that Dan was determined to be his #1 fan at all costs. When Dan tweeted Phil saying he had a crush on him, Phil finally caved and decided to snoop around. After scrolling on Dan’s twitter profile for about an hour, Phil was set on getting to know him. He sounded like a fun guy and his observation about everything they had in common was fairly accurate.

He decided to follow Dan back and drop him a direct message.

“Hey :) ” Phil typed, considering his next words carefully. “How are you doing?”

“omg! hi phil!

i can’t believe you followed me back! O__0 ” Dan said.

Phil bit his lip and typed a reply. “Haha why not?”

“i don’t know XD

you are so cool and i’ve been watching your videos for a logn time :] ”

“I think you’re cool too! ^.^

What’s your favourite Muse song?”

“ugh, don’t make me choose X__X”

“Come on! Mine is Newborn, or Exogenesis and Muscle Museum

Those are my top 3”

“i hate you :/

i guess if I had to pick one it would be Citizen Erased”

“That’s a good one” Phil wondered if it would be too forward to ask Dan, but if he got too into his head nothing good would come of it. He had never been one to hesitate a lot about things. What could go wrong after all?

“Hey, do you want to chat on skype?” He hit enter and waited for Dan’s reply eagerly.

“yeah! add me <;3

i’m danisnotonfire there too”

“That’s a cool username

How did you choose it?”

“it was a random string of words I came up with a few years ago lol”

“Hahaha valid :)

See you on skype”

---

September 2009

After days and eternal nights of non-stop chatting, Phil decided to invite Dan to his parents’ house. They had gotten to know each other enough for Phil to be sure that Dan was not a serial killer - probably.

Not that it mattered, because Dan had yet to accept his invitation.

And even though they had often been flirty during their calls, Phil wasn’t sure if they would have the same chemistry in person. If their meeting went well, it would be the first time Phil had successfully transitioned from an online friendship to a real life one.

Somehow, this felt so different than anyone else he had met before, more important. Dan was special, and just being able to talk to him made him incredibly happy.

In October, after weeks of pestering Dan, he finally accepted his invitation. Apparently, Dan had been saving ever since Phil had invited him and wanted to surprise him which made Phil blush and smile like a crazy person.

When October 19 finally came, Dan took the train to Manchester, where Phil was already anxiously waiting for him. Seeing Dan in the crowd, walking towards him and the hug Dan pulled him into was something that felt so familiar yet groundbreaking, and Phil had no way of explaining it.

Just as the sun started to set, they got on the big wheel when as their cart made it to the top, Dan kissed him, the remnants of the last sun rays setting the mood, and enveloping Phil in a warm feeling. He felt like his stomach was flipping over and he knew then that he couldn’t deny having feelings for Dan.

After frolicking around town, they headed home and filmed a video for Phil’s channel, which they were both super excited about. At one point, Phil saw Dan going through his stuff and stopped the recording to check what was catching Dan’s attention.

He had started pulling books out of the bookcase that hadn’t been touched in years.

“What’s that?” Dan asked with a curious smile, making the cat whiskers on his face curl upwards.

“What?” Phil asked.

“There’s something in the back. Is it your porn stash?” Dan smirked.

Phil snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s where I keep it!”

Dan grabbed a purple sparkly notebook with childlike scribbling on the front. “Dream Journal”

“Oh,” Phil said, feeling a tug in his stomach. “I hadn’t thought about that in a while.”

“Can I read it?” Dan asked.

“I guess? I don’t think there’s a lot in there,” Phil said, pulling at the hem of his shirt when chills ran down through him.

Dan sat back down on Phil’s bed, his back against the wall, legs pulled to his chest and bottom lip burrowed between his lips. “Oh, this is interesting. You dreamt about meeting shadow people a lot.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, swallowing thick. He kneeled on the bed and shuffled closer to Dan to read from above.

“What’s this list?” Dan asked, tapping on the last page Phil had ever filled.

“Just things that used to... catch my attention.”

“Bear. Did you know my family used to call me Bear when I was a kid? My grandma still does.”

“I - no, you hadn’t told me,” Phil said.

“Malteesers? Obviously! They are the fucking best. Coffee? You have a real problem with that if you started having coffee at this age.” Dan laughed.

“I didn’t!” Phil laughed along as everything started to slot into place. “Starbucks,” he mumbled under his breath. “Wheel. That’s where…” he trailed off.

“Will? Oh, Wheel!” Dan laughed. “You had a little problem with spelling, I see.”

Phil scoffed. “Shut up!”

“Hmm?” Dan asked, but his eyes were trained on the list. He was barely paying Phil any mind. “Worm?” Dan raised his eyebrows, finally looking up at Phil.

“Warm! That’s an A. I was a kid, don’t judge. I was having hot chocolate with marshmallows when I wrote that,” Phil said, waiting for Dan to say anything that would confirm his suspicion.

“What does that have to do with warm?” Dan asked.

Phil shrugged. “I - I don’t know. I liked the feeling of warm things against my skin.”

“Cat whiskers. Well, we have those on already.”

“Do you know what these could be?” Phil asked, pointing to the drawings he didn’t even understand.

“They look like Muse albums, sort of? Wait, when did you do these?” Dan asked, his brow burrowed into a frown.

Phil’s mouth fell open. He got up and brought Dan the Tonberry plushie he had purchased as a gift for him weeks ago, Christmas surprise be damn. “Final Fantasy,” Phil said.

Dan finally set the journal down on the bed and opened his gift. “This is my favourite character!” Dan looked incredibly happy.

“Yeah,” Phil said. He shuffled the things on his desk and found the tarot card set his grandma had sent him. It didn’t take him long to find the card he had been looking for. He grabbed the journal and slid the Knight of Wands card inside, closing it and returning it to its hiding place.

“I don’t understand what the list was about,” Dan said, still clutching his gift. “Those are just things you liked?”

“Something like that,” Phil said.

Dan raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t keep secrets from me, Phil Lester.”

Phil shrugged. “It’s the recipe for the perfect best friend, I guess.”

“Get out,” Dan said with a laugh and threw the Tonberry at him.

Phil knelt on the bed and pressed their lips together, smiling into the kiss as Dan pulled him closer, smudging their cat whiskers. He had finally found the person from his dreams, his best friend, his Knight of Wands.

Final Author's notes: I referenced this video for the tarot card and I would advise anyone with a few minutes to spare to watch it and marvel at how fucking accurate this card is to describe Dan. I found it hilarious. Maybe Phil is truly a psychic. VIDEO.

#phanfiction #phanfic #succubusphan fics #phan #dan and phil

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iruiji · 2 years ago

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I'm Isekai'd as a Fungus but at least I'm a Kick-ass Healer

BAHAHAHHAHAHAA-

Guys, I HAD TO DO IT. After the Fungi Event I can’t just sit here and not write this. Also, this is pretty similar to the Seelie AU someone already did before so.. ‘m sorry this is not an update to the impostor AU but huehue i’ll get back to it.

For reference, the events on this story are placed right before the Fabulous Fungus Frenzy, and like in the event, they can heal, but just a little. Like they can heal minor bruises or cuts but that’s about it.

Not beta-ed, just minor edits. Don't mind if I keep switching tenses I've always had that problem T.T

So here you are, minding your own business, trying to go home as usual. Earlier during the day, your boss was in a good mood, so your team got to eat outside, which is rare, so it was greatly appreciated. The whole day was as peaceful as it can get, with everyone in high spirits as the new product your company introduce was overwhelmingly well-received by the customers.

With a bit of hop in your steps, you stopped in front of a pedestrian crossing, humming to yourself as you listen to a jovial song from your earphones.

“Watch out!”

The voice, a man you thought, was just full of panic that you immediately look up from your phone to see what was wrong-

A kid was running towards you, seemingly clueless about the danger he was in.

Looking back, you can’t help but think that your normally strict Supervisor who always insists to add an hour of overtime everyday, may have been wrong to send you and your teammates on time at this day.

But then again, you thought as you lay down the cold hard ground and a kid crying his heart out, fate does work in mysterious ways.

You wanted to comfort the kid, truly, but you can’t move any muscle and it feels like everything is so heavy. At least the kid seems okay.. yeah.. oh no.. he’s crying.. with what little energy you could muster at this point, you tried and pat the child’s head, staring a little bit at your bloodied hands.

Oh shit, you thought, almost hysterically. I’m dying..

The next time you open your eyes, it was dark.

...

But wait, aren’t you dead?!

You sprung up from the ground.. only to realize you’re floating. Huh? Huhhh???

Looking down at your arms, you almost had a a panic attack when you saw.. holy shit what are those?! Those aren’t human hands!!It looks familiar though.. wait.. something clicked at the back of your head.No way.

You frantically look around, and came across a wet puddle several meters away. Yeah, nope. Definitely not thinking how weird it is to move. Why am I so slow?!

And then you look at your reflection on the water and shrieked.

Aether/Lumine

The Traveler was doing their Daily Commissions, jumping up and down the mushrooms when a loud shriek broke out from somewhere and made them lose balance. Paimon, predictably, shrieks louder at the noise.

“Waaa!! What was that?! Paimon was surprised!!!”

With a little annoyed huff, the Traveler decided they’d just go back to this commission later, feet already bringing them towards the sound.

“Oi, where are you going?!” Paimon shrieks as she hurriedly hides herself at their back. “What if it’s a really scary monster?? Traveler, wait!!!”

They groaned as the pixie pulled their scarf back. Sighing, they tried to calm down their companion, explaining that they’re strong and better face it first than some random, unarmed civilian. Paimon reluctantly agrees and enters the more dense part of the Avidya Forest.

A whimper was the Traveler heard last before something barrels to their stomach, sending them sprawling down the ground.

Paimon’s scream could probably be heard back at Mondstadt.

“T-traveler! Are you okay? Aaa! I-it’s attacking you!!! Get up!!!!!!!”

Groaning, they look up to see a.. crying Fungus????

“Wait, Paimon, calm down.” they said as they try and cradle the little thing.

It was a Floating Hydro Fungus. But why is it.. crying? Wait, fungus can cry???

“Um.. you okay, little bud?” they ask hesitantly. Not knowing if the creature would be able to understand, they started patting its head to comfort them. Paimon was silent at the side, probably dumbfounded by the scene as well.

The fungus seemed to cry harder at the touch, and the Traveler exchanged a panicked glance at his companion. The pixie stared right back, before clearing her throat and stars patting the creature as well. “There, there.”

If you told the Traveler and Paimon that they’d be comforting a crying fungus during their adventure, they’d probably look at you blankly and then walk away. Sigh, but I guess Teyvat has its own laws, huh?

It took a few more minutes for the fungus to calm down, sniffling as it rest on the Travelers lap.

Paimon flew next to the creature and asks, "Um. Why are you crying?"

As if understanding the question, the fungus pointed to itself, before flapping it's arms as if annoyed - the small body floating up a little bit each flap. Soon it was almost past the Traveler's head while it continues grumbling and huffing.

The Traveler exchanged another side glance with Paimon, and they know they have the same thought: Cute.

Of all the places, of course fate just had to drop you into Teyvat.

It was scary, realizing not only you lost the ability to communicate properly, but also the fact that if some adventurer sees you, they might attack and kill you either out of boredom or necessity. Both outcomes would probably be death.

So you wailed, and then you heard footsteps after a bit and you panicked-

But oh, it's the Traveler!!!

Your body was moving before you can even think, barreling towards them without so much as a pathetic sob. Dammit, why does the Traveler feel so warm- and then you cried even louder because there's hope! You can distantly hear Paimon losing her mind from the sidelines, but really, all you can feel is immense relief. It took another few minutes before they were able to relax completely around you, and the gratefulness and excitement because holy macaroni with cheese flaming balls, you're going to adventure with the Traveler! And Paimon!!!

Hence the start of your friendship with the two. At first, other people were vary of you. You understand, of course, for its not normal for a wild.. monster, as they call you, to act so friendly with people. But every time, you prove to be a loyal companion, and your friends cannot be more proud as eventually you became the infamous 'Healer Fungus' from the derogatory 'Traveler's Pet'.

Hell, even Tighnari recognized you as the 'cutest, pretty little helper'! And Cyno pet your head once! Alhaitham looked like he wants to slice you open though.. man that guy was scary.. he's lucky he's handsome.

Tighnari

The Traveler likes holding you in their arms once on a while, cooing how you're so cute and squishy. Paimon pinches your cheeks sometimes, too.

When in battle, Paimon always pulls you to the side with her because you're still not used to walking or floating fast. Damn this light body, you thought one time when you blocked an arrow for the Traveler, resulting a deep gash and a bawling Paimon.

You guys thought Tighnari's lecture was bad? You haven't heard the Traveler yet. That night you all slept together with the two hugging you tightly.

Speaking of, Tighnari's first meeting with you was.. interesting, to say the least.

He and Collei were patrolling around Ardravi Valley when they both stumbled upon you and the Traveler training. As you dodge to the side, your back hit something soft and you turned around to fluff.

The surprised look on Tighnari's face was laughable.

And then the jerk proceeded to snatch your feet and hold you upside down-

Umm?? Sir?

"Hm.."

Sir, don't.

Predictably, he starts shaking you, making you dizzy. You recall Traveler and Paimon panicking at the side, before you were put down the ground, face plopping first towards the dirt.

"Hiee!! Traveler, Fluffy's dead!!!"

Geez, calm down, Drama Queen.

Later on at Gandharva Ville, Traveler explained all about you to the fennec fox, while you and Collei mostly you try and bully Paimon into playing games.

He was very intrigued. A Fungus that isn't outright hostile? And can heal???

Hoo boy, was there a lot of experimentation.

Tighnari made you try everything - from healing a paper cut holy shit man don't hurt yourself like that! to curing fevers, poison again, STOP HURTING YOURSELF! to abrasions, burns, deep gashes and wounds.

The only thing he haven't made you try is probably reviving a dead person - but even that he knew you can't deal with, especially as various result show that you're good mostly for First-Aid.

Also, you can withstand the Withering, so sometimes he borrows you from the Traveler when taking a bigger one down.

As words spread about the Floating Hydro Fungus who can heal people, of course people were now like hounds trying to kidnap you or buy you from the Traveler - which was always met with a drawn sword and a yelling pixie.

Tighnari sets up a new rule to others to always escort you whenever you're in the forest, as desperate people do desperate measure not like he leaves you alone whenever you visit him and Collei in the first place.

He is F L U F F Y. As someone he believes to not abuse the privilege, he grants you permission most of the time to hug his tail or touch his ears NGH! and in turn he always gives you head pats and snacks. Sometimes he picks you up too!

Cue the panic when you almost melt at the gesture.

Collei really took a shining to you though, and now whenever she feels sick you come to her aid as much as you can. One time she was really sick, you cuddled the whole day and then you woke up with a brand new satchel containing loads of Pita Pocket specifically made for you, since you can't eat normal stuff.

Overall life in Gandharva Ville was peaceful.

Until one day someone successfully kidnapped you - and then you met the General Mahamatra.

Holy fuck I just vomited 1.4k words. You can bet your ass I already have Cyno and Alhaitham written in my head. BYE I'M USING MY WORK COMPUTER i don't own one LET'S HOPE I WON'T BE DEAD NEXT WEEK

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fungus au #genshin isekai #HOLY FUCK WHAT IS THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAA IM GOING CRAZY

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elgaladwen · 5 months ago

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Making Tea

Slowly adding old fics here and on AO3, so have the first Elgaladwen/Gallorith fic I ever wrote! It may not be anything amazing, and is pretty short, but it holds a special spot in my heart, because it was the first fic I wrote that included anyone else's LOTRO character, and I was so afraid Gallorith's player would think I was weird, but no, she liked it, and it spawned me writing a million more about them, usually inspired by our RP. 🥰 It was written in discord during a long virtual meeting back in 2020. Gallorith belongs to @sewer-princess ❤️

This fic has suggestive themes and kissing, but nothing explicit.

More about Elgaladwen in her bio here.

Elgaladwen hopped up to sit upon the table, a little way away from where Gallorith was placing dry tea leaves into a pot, her legs dangling over the edge. She saw him glance up and smile at her, his cheeks pink, and she felt a little bad about distracting him from his duties, but not bad enough to do something drastic, like leaving him be.

She watched him fill another pot with water, and place it over a small fire to heat. "For this tea," he explained to her, "you want to pull it from the heat before it boils, otherwise you'll scald the leaves, and not get the best flavor. You can tell the temperature by the size of the bubbles as it starts to heat, see?" She scooted closer, intrigued. She actually very much wished to know of his craft, though she kept finding herself wishing even more to know the ellon himself, to the detriment of all else.

She was dangerously close to him now, and as he straightened, they locked eyes, and she reached for him, tugging him to her. Their lips soon met, and they kissed deeply, each reveling in the feel and taste of the other.

All too soon there was a hiss of steam as the water over-boiled the pot, some of it bubbling out into the fire, causing them both to startle. Had they really been kissing that long?

Gallorith moved quickly to take the pot off the fire, cheeks flushed more than before, and Elgaladwen imagined that hers probably matched, as she watched him, trying to catch her breath. "I will make black tea instead." Gallorith said in his lovely, soft voice. "It is meant to be made with boiling water."

She saw him dump the lighter leaves he'd been preparing back into a container, before he added darker tea leaves from another. She marveled at how elegant he looked in his robes from the tea ceremony as he added the freshly boiled water to the leaves. "Now it must steep for a time." He said as he turned back to her. She could see her desire for him reflected in his own eyes, and soon he was leaning to kiss her again.

She found herself opening her legs to him, so that he might press even closer to her, and thought fleetingly of how indecent it would look if someone walked in on them. The many layers of his robe and her skirts were between them, though, so it was only a little less than innocent, she reasoned, wrapping her arms about him, even as he gripped her around the waist. As they kissed, she pressed herself against him, imagining she could feel his need for her through their clothing, and she soon had her legs around his waist, hoping to further the contact.

At some point, she opened her eyes, gasping for breath against his lips, and she saw that her skirts had hiked up to her thigh on one side, her bare leg exposed, and she laughed, kissing him more deeply as she realized they truly were being indecent, and she didn't care.

After some time, Gallorith rested his forehead against hers as they embraced tightly still, and not for the first time since she'd been with him, Elgaladwen thought she had never been so happy as she was right in that moment.

"Has the tea steeped long enough?" She asked hesitantly. She saw the sweet smile upon his lips as he drew back from her, and reluctantly, she released him from her arms and legs, surprise filling her when he knelt before her, rather than moving to tend the tea. He brought his lips to the bared skin of her inner thigh, giving her a soft, but lingering kiss that she seemed to feel throughout her entire body as a pleasant, warm tingling, and she gasped involuntarily. She swore she saw Gallorith wear the faintest of smirks as he leaned back again, his fingers gently tugging her skirts back into place, so that her leg was covered once more. She looked upon him with awe as he stood, finding herself unable to speak or move. She ached for him in every way, from the crudest of desires, still making her body tingle, to the purest love, that caused her chest to feel as though it would burst from emotion.

He soon moved to pour the tea, commenting, "I do think it will be more bold than usual, but this blend lends itself well to that." She finally slipped off the table as he picked up his tray of cups, balancing it in one arm, as he held the other out to her. "Shall we, my lady?"

#ugh I love Gall and his tea so much #ElGallorith #otp #fics #my fics #LOTRO fic #lotro oc

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maw-and-pawp · 7 months ago

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Beneath Veiled Faces pt.1

Disclaimer: Robin's and Alma's views on vore doesn't reflect mine. Robin may come off as a little preachy in that one monolog, but just keep in mind that they have strong opinions formed from their own life experiences, and Alma has (less strong) opinions from her own. It's no way intended to say that one type of vore is inherently better than another- the reason the pred here gets the come uppance is purely plot armor lmao. Also, I've never been to a bar or had alcohol! Can you tell? XD Content: NSF/W vore, alcohol, intoxication, discussion of consent and ethics, panic attack, anxiety, unwilling vore, fatal digestion, hurt/comfort, secret missions, first meetings, secret identities, background murder, past slavery, not too graphic violence, unnamed female pred and unnamed ambiguous prey. Lots of fucking world building.

Robin scans the room once again, ears straining to listen to the wind from inside the mixed bar. The lights are dim this time of night, most patrons having either left or had one too many. The perfect time for most predators to make their move on people too drunk to properly fight back. Or run.

This area of the city has been struck with a string of disappearances, all prey folk. An obvious new hunting ground for an inexperienced pred. No matter. If they do this right, their target won't get the experience to get away with it smoothly.

The bartender gives them a strange look from across the room. Robin had tucked themself into the back booth, back to the wall, ordering only the occasional food. It was, admittedly, good food. They're obsessed with the cheese-stuffed potato skins and the sweet potato fries covered with some sort of sweet glaze. But they hadn't ordered any alcohol in a bar all night, just using a fork to stuff their face with finger food. And they had just been caught looking too closely at the patrons and the exits.

Stars they must look so suspicious. They just know they've got ‘that look’ in their eyes again, as Cedar keeps pointing out, that gives people the impression that they're ‘staring straight into your soul’. Ugh. Guess it's time to go up to the bar and actually order something, or blow their cover.

They hand over their ID and smile without teeth. The bartender eyes them a moment longer, before handing it back. He's a tall pred folk, one that would tower even above other mortal preds. As it is, Robin's palms start sweating in their gloves from having to almost throw their head back to look him in the eyes. They focus instead on the little enameled pin tucked across his collar, a cutesy little ghost saying ‘boo-mbtastic!’. As they start to read the menu for something light to sip, he speaks up. “I saw you looking around a lot tonight.”

“I'm waiting for someone,” they confess. It's not the whole truth, obviously, but they can't lie even if they wanted to. He chuckles. His voice rough enough it makes them shiver. They hope they're not flushing. “Got stood up, huh?”

They move to shake their head, but stop mid-movement. A sweet scent tickles their nose, and they have to swallow thickly against the sudden flood. The stool next to them shifts as someone slides in.

“Heyyyy bestie, no time no seeee,” the stranger says. A young prey woman sits next to them, swinging her feet and leaning her face in her hands. A faery prey woman. What in the world…?

“I saw you yesterday, Alma. Like I see you every night.” The woman - Alma - hands over her ID and smiles with teeth. Her pink nose is flushed red already, her pupils blown so only a ring of spring green can be seen. Has she been bar hopping? “Are they with you tonight, then? You can't keep leaving your dates hanging. This one's been here all night waiting.”

The other faery looks surprised, before turning her face to where he's gesturing. She looks them up and down, and smirks conspiratorially. “They are now! You don't mind, do you?” Robin shrugs. It doesn't matter to them, although now they'd have to find a way to thank her for saving their ass there. The man raises an eyebrow and mutters something fond under his breath about ‘damn kids, had me worried’.

They both order, and the bartender turns to start preparing the drinks. Robin tilts their head at the faint whisper in the wind. It's something to focus on instead of the way their stomach clenches. They've eaten enough food tonight, they don't need more, and they've just met Alma. That's not how it's supposed to go back in the homeland. And they've had enough of the nontraditional way. Never again.

She studies them over the edge of her glass of wine. Seemingly sizing them up in turn. After a moment, she comes to a decision, and hisses quietly in their mother tongue, words having a strange accent to them. “Y'know, I thought I was the only one on this side of the Veil.” She smiles toothily, swaying some. They resist the urge to grab her arm to steady her.

“Me too.” They take a sip of the sangria they ordered, trying to wash her scent down with another sweet thing. They need a distraction, so they ask the first thing that comes to mind to keep the conversation going, leaving one ear pricked towards the wind. “What brings you here?”

She snorts. “To the bar or the jungle? Because if it's the first, buddy that's so cliche to ask What's A Pretty Thing Like You Doing In A Place Like This.” Alma giggles as she downs the rest of her wine. She fully turns to face them, leaning her elbow up on the counter not made for her height. Her upright ears flutter, once, twice.

They roll their eyes. “I'm not hitting on you, obviously. You don’t have to answer that if it's personal.”

Alma rolls her eyes right back. She sobers some as she mulls it over. In a hushed tone, she replies, as if anyone happening to be listening could actually understand them. “I'm not the real Alma Florimell. Well, I am but not. It's a whole deal.”

They hum to themself. “Changeling?” They pretend not to be invested in the answer. Truly, how alone must she feel if she was willing to answer a vulnerable question from a stranger? Or drunk. Probably drunk. They shouldn't ask anymore questions like that, then.

“Yeah. Switched at birth and all. Like in a bad comedy drama. I'm lucky that my hosts wanted me even after they realized I'm not normal,” she rambles. The bartender notices that her drink is empty, and she motions for a refill with a muted smile. She sways again. Maybe she's had enough for tonight… They quietly ask for some water in english and push it towards her. “And, well, the real Alma isn't on speaking terms with hers, so I guess I dodged a bullet.”

“You are normal, Alma. Perfectly healthy and average for someone like you, as far as I can tell. And yeah, the plant thing is a little weird, but you're all just weird to me in general.”

They decide to look around again, instinct telling them that something was off. Nothing was out of the ordinary at a glance, though. Exactly how it was before they got caught. They frown slightly to themself before turning back. They redouble their split focus towards the hunt at hand.

“Whatever…” she brushes off. There's no reason to believe them, afterall. They don't even know why they said that. Robin glances down to their hands. Half the glass is gone somehow. Oops. “Wait, how did you know about that?”

“It's really common. It would be weird if you didn't feel more at home with plants than people.”

A momentary silence descends between them. Robin scrambles for something to say. They feel dizzy; from the alcohol or from the sweet treat they're talking to, they can't say. Their stomach rumbles in interest at the thought. They shake their head, realizing they're staring.

It's Alma that breaks the silence. “So, what about you? How’d a windborne end up here? You're not trooping faeries. It must be hard living in a city, especially with no prey. Unless I don't know anything and I should shut up now. No seriously I won't be offended if you tell me to, I ramble all the time, especially when I've had too many. Like now. Yeah.” She sips her water to illustrate the point. The little preything really could talk, huh? Robin likes the sound of her voice, it's deep and smooth, reminding them of Cedar in a strange way. When he's totally relaxed and not nearly soprano from his anxiety. They take out their phone and shoot off a reminder to take his melatonin gummies while they're thinking about him.

Pocketing it, they finally process her words, and freeze. Well, she might not get it, but maybe they can subtly tell her a partial truth so she can draw her own conclusions… They pull up their left sleeve just enough to reveal the old brand curling possessively up their forearm. Their master’s use-name, written in the faery tongue in bold characters. It's an old and ugly memory, but their master’s attendants made sure it healed cleanly. The only apology they could give them as a child freshly ‘acquired’. They don't acknowledge the gasp to their right as they calmly explain, “I'm a free hound, but I can't ever be sure it would stay that way if I went back.”

They pull down their sleeve and fit it back over their glove snuggly. The leather squeaks as they testingly clench their fingers. Stalling, so they don't have to acknowledge the fear Alma is radiating at their side. Her heart is beating so fast, rushing blood close to the surface, making her scent flood the air. It's soured with terror. So dizzy, and shaky, they get up to leave her alone. It's fine. They get it.

Her fingers shoot out and clutch their sleeve. “It's fine! I'm sorry for reacting like this. Give me a minute, you don't have to go!”

They rip their arm away, baring their fangs in a snarl. Heart hammering, they can't breathe enough air into their lungs, and their world lurches forward from the rush of adrenaline and oxygen deprivation. The stool rushes up to meet them and they cling onto it like a lifeline. Everything blurs out of their awareness for several long moments.

When they come back to themself, their ears are ringing, and the bartender has come from behind the counter and laid them down flat on the ground so they wouldn't crash and bring glass with them. He's speaking softly to them, and someone next to them is guiding them through a breathing exercise. They vaguely recognize it as the same one they use with Cedar when he has attacks. Their ears ring.

Robin is guided back onto the stool, Alma saying something to the bartender, who after a moment retreats to get them a glass of water. She very carefully doesn't touch them, but she does lean forward into their line of sight, pretty lips softly smiling. It doesn't reach her eyes.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you…”, she murmurs. “I didn't know.”

“I should be the one apologizing. Just. Don't touch me suddenly. Don't grab my arms like that. And we’re golden.” They gulp down their water in one big swallow. “Thanks for helping me through that. You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah I did, idiot. I messed up. I fix it. Thems’ the rules.” She leans back out of their space. “I think I owe you something now, though. For being frightened unnecessarily, and causing a situation where you'd panic.”

“You don't owe me anything. It's fine. It's over, and it was an understandable reaction to that. It's fine.”

She tilts her head, regarding them thoughtfully. “What about dinner? You don't seem like you've gotten enough to eat recently. Your presence is weaker than I know it should be. Or well, it's late for dinner. I could be dessert?”

Robin bites back the first three answers. They are not going to make decisions with their stomach, thank you very much. “Don't offer me your body out of a perceived obligation. That's weird. I would be weird for saying yes to that.”

She flusters. “Hey, don't talk about it like it's sex! And it's not obligation! I thought, maybe, that you would be tempted if I said it like that. To be honest, I just want to disappear right now. Be far away from everything. I don't know, the chiropractor is too expensive. I need to get factory reset and no one is biting. It's just fulfilling a need for eachother. And yeah, I am sorry for earlier. I know bloodhounds don't get a choice in what the person on the other end of the leash makes you do. It was irrational. You'd have torn my throat out already if you were still under someone's thumb. And I know that I get the munchies after a panic attack, I thought that it would probably be welcome to offer you a meal.”

They hum in thought for a moment, choosing their words carefully. “It's not inherently sex, you're right. But I need to approach it like it is. It's a lot of the same questions about consent and autonomy about our bodies. It's not like here in the mortal realm, they die from this all the time. They can't have a culture around respecting a prey as a person in the same way we can. It's inherently intimate, at least for me. You're both food and a person, but here it's food or a person. It's so strange to think about it like that. It feels wrong.” They shiver in disgust at the mere thought. “So following that logic, I'm pretty sure we're both too intoxicated to be making that decision right now.”

Alma’s voice turns teasing. “You've had literally one drink. You're not that much of a lightweight, are you?”

“Guilty as charged. It's the bird bones. Can't be too heavy to fly and all.” They smirk. “Who knew hollow bones were bad at making blood, too?”

“Oh boy. Let's hope you never have to go to the ER!”

“Yeah. Let's hope.”

They settle once again into a comfortable silence. At some point they relocate to the booth Robin had claimed earlier. Alma ends up ordering 3 more wines, and they show her the magic of the glazed sweet potato fries. She teases them for eating fries with a fork, and they dare her to wrap her hands in napkins and not get any grease or glaze on them. She fails spectacularly, over and over, until Robin can't breathe because they're laughing too hard. She playfully kicks under the table.

While they're having fun in good company, the other preds at the bar watch in curiosity. Some had been concerned earlier, when the short one had keeled over. Some were watching with bated breath, placing bets on when the little pred was going to stop playing with their food and eat the tiny prey. In anticipation or cynical worry.

And one was thinking to herself that the little pred was weak. That together with the tiny preything, they'd make a filling meal. The tiny prey was drunk, it wouldn't put up much fight. Couldn't walk, let alone run, so all she had to do was swallow the other one first. Oh yes. It looked so tasty. She hoped her prey paired well with the margarita she's been nursing the whole night.

Her stomach burbled in interest at the thought of dinner tonight. Or perhaps, that was last night's prey still processing. Such a pretty thing, so trusting. It filled her up nice and good. She went home with a squirming gut that night, and put her favorite soap operas on. Rubbed her belly as it purred, bubbling and churning in delight as the little thing screamed for help. Slowly being drowned out by her massive gut roaring to life, thrashing getting weaker as her stomach clenched and melted her prey into nothing. Gods, she can't get enough of it. Truly, this was what she's been missing out on?

She follows them out after they split the bill, and the little pred helps the tiny one walk. They stagger a few times, and the two stop for a moment so the tiny one can bend over a bush. She hears them hiss quiet words to eachother in a language she's never heard before. They sound like snakes, but if snakes were Italian. How interesting.

She slips unnoticed past them with a casual walk. An alleyway was only a bit ahead, where they'd have to pass to call a taxi home. Perfect. Now, just to wait.

Robin sighs in relief as nothing ends up coming up. It's been a long night for Alma by the looks of it, and they mentally prepare to get strange looks from the taxi driver as they carry a nearly blackout drunk preygirl home. She'd probably be fine on her own, seeing as faery prey are fighters when they don't like what's happening. Vicious things. But it's rained recently, and if she passes out in a puddle…

The hunt tonight was fruitless so far. Well, maybe they could take Alma home and come back to continue. The predator has been attacking in a circular pattern across the city, Missing Persons last being seen at a bar and disappearing after the establishment closes, or after they leave. So the culprit is choosing the victims inside the building.

Of course, serial killers or traffickers aren't entirely ruled out. But the broken antler pieces left in alleys suggest an amatuer predator breaking off the natural defenses of their prey, not wise enough yet to remember to clean up afterwards. Or someone clever enough to make it look like a predator attack to throw off investigators. Not that the police have been any kind of useful to a simple case like this so far. That's why they have to step in now.

They curse their circumstances in their head. If only there were more faery prey - willing prey - they wouldn't have heard about this so late. The wind would've carried the screams for help to them from anywhere in the world. But the longer they go without eating, the more the wind fades from their awareness, the harder it is to maintain the glamour that safely hides away their wings in a pocket dimension. They haven't eaten prey since they were a teenager…

They slowly lead Alma away from the bush as she straightens back up. The designated area for the taxi was just ahead, a little alley between them and the waiting bench.

Someone grabs the back of their shirt and yanks. They feel their body be pulled back into the shadows, reflexively letting go of Alma in the process. Adrenaline shoots up their spine. Something wet hits their face - drool - and they instinctively twist around in the grip of their captor. The attacker is over powered, or caught off guard by their strength, and loses some of their hold on them. Robin strikes out where they're guessing the face is of the predator, and tries not to grin when they feel a crack underneath their fist. They've struck true once again.

The person goes flying. They watch as they - she, bounces off the side of a dumpster and lands on her knees. A vindictive, predatory part of themself purrs in satisfaction in seeing their target brought low. She groans. Growls some generic insult. Or threat. They don't really care what she has to say.

“Found you,” Robin breathes, and Alma slurs. The prey woman leaning on the opposite wall wastes no time in reaching into seemingly nowhere and bringing forth five long purple needles. She throws them. One lands in the dirt by the target’s feet, one in the brick wall, two in the metal, and one strikes true into the predator’s engorged gut. They feel sick as they watch the flesh wobble on impact. The woman goes limp almost instantly.

Robin eyes her for a moment before turning their head to stare at Alma. “What do you mean, ‘found you’?!” They once again say in unison. They shake their head. “You first.”

“I ho arouuund,and…*hic* smell nice. It makes them. It makes them want meeee. So I figired, I've got Para. The stiff that makes you jot move. I trick em into eating it along with me if they're gonna just *hic* take meeee.” Alma rambles. “Yooou turn”

“...I go around and find predators that don't take no for an answer. And I make them take no for an answer.”

“Ohhh you're the killlllerrr. Cooooool”

“And you’re the cause behind preds becoming paralyzed suddenly. Nice.”

“Yeaaah” She slowly sinks down the wall, and Robin moves to help her up. “I wanna go home now.”

The adrenaline is slowly starting to wear off, and the exhaustion setting in. Robin is tired down to their bones after tonight. All in all a successful hunt, with a new ally/friend to boot, but they've done more emotional work tonight than they have since the night they ran. “Yeah. Let's go home.”

Two taxi rides, a deadweight girl on their back up a flight of stairs, and a worried phone call later, Robin is closing their own apartment door behind them. They're asleep in Cedar’s bed before their head hits the pillow.

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natsuyuki-w · 1 year ago

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Serenitea Shop | Sparkling Berry Juice

Kaveh x gn!reader

Modern AU

Serenitea shop >

You took a quick glance at the entrance, and when you saw the boy you were waiting for, placed a trembling hand to your chest as if that gesture would help curb your racing heartbeats. - Argh, I can't believe I'm going to do this... Do I look decent?" asked to your friend as you checked your reflection in the nearby window.

Hair soft and combed, but with obvious messy clumps from the bike ride. Clothes, well chosen and polished, but with the other hand wrinkling them out of nervousness. And finally, an accompanying shy smile. "Gorgeous" he could only think, but he would've not allowed himself to make such embarrassing comments at that exact moment. To avoid stammering, the blond boy nodded with conviction, not taking his eyes off you. Nervousness, jealousy, and embarrassment poured into that strong grip around his cup. The incoming gossip about your weekend had been one stab after another for Kaveh.

- There it goes...- You sighed heavily, turned around and gave your friend one last big smile. He hugged you tightly, and when he saw that gray hair out of the corner of his eye, he knew it was time to remove himself from the scene.

—-

You held your breath for a moment and then took the courage to answer the call - Hello? - There was a clear break in your voice. - It's me, Kaveh. Are you home now? - Street noises soundtracked his somewhat labored voice. A whole day had passed without hearing from you; you should have expected that he would provide. - Ah... yes. Sorry you didn't say goodbye before you left, you were in a bit of a hurry. - You chuckled about it, the knot in your throat getting more and more annoying. - I’m on my way to see you. - stated conclusively. - Ah... really... and how come? Don't you have anything else to do? Surely better than wasting your time with me. - And hopped a little sob. - I want to see you. We're friends, right? And we are because I like spending time with you. - He answered firmly again. - W-well,... But are you sure? V-it's all right you know. And then s-s I'm a little tired I don't want to bore you… -

- And you? - interrupted you - Do you want me to come, or would you rather be alone? - he asked. This time the tone was much calmer and accommodating compared to the previous answers. - I don't want to ... be alone. - - I’m coming - *Ding dong

The call cut off, and you heard your father greeting someone and calling your name from downstairs. - Kaveh is here! - With great effort, you managed to tell him to let him in without sounding completely distressed. You had been sick to your stomach all day, but the tears didn't seem to want to come out.

Light footsteps approached, and you saw him standing still in front of the front door. - May I? - he asked to be sure, and you answered with a nod of assent. - Go ahead and close it, thank you. - - He stepped in, and as he approached, his curious eyes wandered involuntarily, his architect's eye ever watchful.

You curled in on yourself even more and motioned for him to sit on your bed, and too immersed in your thoughts, you missed the gradual increase of saturation on his cheeks with each step he took toward you.

Before he could open his mouth, you began a casual conversation, "How was school?" "What did you have for lunch?" "Such a nice weather today..." And he decided to humor you for a while.

A good 10 minutes passed, and he was the one who interrupted you this time by laying a hand on your crossed arms clasped to your body. - You choose when you want to talk about it, but I suggest you do it. If not with me, call someone who makes you comfortable, but let it out. - And like the violent return of water in a dried-up river, you burst into a cascade of tears. From curling like a ball, you soon found yourself clinging to Kaveh in a natural search for comfort that your friend was willing to offer.

Crying and silent support had succeeded in brightening your mind clouded by too many emotions. You were ready to vent your embarrassment and confront your love's disappointment.

With more awareness of what was happening around you, you were struck by a deep sense of guilt. You had shamelessly crumpled the poor blond between tears and hugs as if he were a handkerchief.

You dragged him to the ground floor of the building, where the family café, Serenitea, was located, and hurried to prepare a snack to offer him. You approached the table where he was seated, and instead of joining in, you proposed: - What do you say we head to your house? I want to tell you everything but it's a little crowded here. - You looked at the clock - ... and also getting late; you still have to go to school tomorrow, right? - He nodded and proposed to stop by Vanarana.

The large greenhouse was one of the most beautiful places to visit in Teyvat. It was not easy to find. One had to walk down narrow side streets, but once they reached the heart of that suburban neighborhood, the small square had been completely transformed and made into a huge covered garden, full of lush plants and colorful flowers. - There seems to be no one there tonight. - You commented. - Come on, let's sit down. - and pulled him along by tugging lightly on his arm. - Enjoy. - he smiled at you, but with an undertone of impatience after setting one of the metal and glass tables with your dinner. - Thank you Kaveh. - you suddenly extended your hand to take his. The contact was electric, and his cheeks tinged pink. - P-for what? You're the one who prepared - - Hahaha I'm not talking about the dinner. Thank you for everything. - you told him sincerely, your eyes still flushed and shiny but revitalized after the short laugh.

He squeezed your fingers lightly and smiled in turn. - Look,... I've been holding back insults from all afternoon about that soulless oak log... - and you burst out laughing again; the disappointment of the morning was easing, and so you began to explain without letting go of his hold.

- Um… I don't seem to have updated you much on Saturday night.... - - No, but if Cyno gossiped the truth,... I don't want to know the details. - He commented putting an even flustered pout than before. - I guess he told the true, so... -

You tried to summarize by dribbling out the most intimate details as much as possible. - I thought he was into it in short, but today he slapped me without remorse, telling me how he did it just to please me or something. - -S0,... he used you and then JUST... - he was furious, to say the least, but when you moved your hand to his cheek, he immediately blanched the anger. - It’s okay, at least now I know it would not work out. - and your smile widened even more - And from this situation, I just confirmed how lucky I am to have you Kaveh, and many friends to support me on these shitty days. - You giggled. Before you could see how red he had turned, he squeezed you tightly and murmured in your ear - Well, remember that, because I'm not going anywhere. -

Something in your brain clicked, and soon your cheeks were dyed like his.

#bookshelf originals #serenitea shop #genshin section #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #fanfiction #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh #alhaitham angst #genshin kaveh #kaveh x you #kaveh x y/n

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queerasflux · 2 years ago

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So I've been struggling real bad with working through some old childhood trauma, and my therapist asked me to sit down and write down everything my mother did to me that was just like, Objectively Not Okay- and jesus christ. I always just sort of assumed that like, yeah, my mom wasn't the most perfect mom, but she was doing her best and meant well.

then I just... couldn't stop writing. and the more I wrote, the more I realized that hey, this was straight up abusive. not just "made a few mistakes but generally well-meaning as a parent" but like honest to god "what the fuck is wrong with you and why would you do that to a child" shit, and I'm just so angry and I don't know where to put it.

I'm tired of people telling me that I must forgive/give my mother some slack, because she's my mom and she was also traumatized and "did her best"- as if being traumatized is a free pass to abuse others, or that it somehow negates the emotional and mental toll it took on me to be raised by someone like her.

I'm angry that I can't even confront her about these things, because she will immediately either get defensive/aggressive at me, or will invalidate it (it wasn't that bad/wasn't as bad as what her mom did/she didn't mean it that way), or hop up on the pity potty and want to be comforted that yeah, even though she severely abused her child, she's not a bad mom, right?

Really just struggling with things rn. List under cut, because I think other people should also be aware this shit is Not Okay, and because I'm tired of covering up for my mother's bad behavior, and not being allowed to talk about it or how it hurt me because of how it may reflect on her.

A (very) abridged and generalized list of shit my mom has done that was straight up fucked up and abusive and Not Okay that I was convinced was "not that bad" for literal decades.

Beat the shit out of her autistic kid having meltdowns, joked years later about "beating the autism" out of me, never got me tested for autism/ADHD/any other neurodivergency, I had to get diagnosed myself at 28

stayed married to a man that was not only physically abusive, but who she (rightfully!) suspected of being a pedophile

constantly ripped her children from places once they'd established friendships/finally settled in at school with no warning, apology, support system, or any way to contact old friends

when her child who is very smart starts struggling very badly in school (for above reasons and also because she was drinking heavily and was too busy partying to help her kid), decides the best option is not to get the kid tested/help in school, but to simply scream at them that they're just like their abusive father

medically neglects her children- one of whom didn't get glasses until they were 13 and had a note sent home from school. same kid becomes partially deaf in ear later due to medical neglect, and eventually ends up with several disabilities as an adult from things that could have been prevented or mitigated from childhood

repeatedly put children in the path of her own abusive mother, who she knew and described as abusive, and who she knew (commented on and joked about!) was targeting one of her children specifically

when I get depressed over that, and come to her asking for help because I'm suicidal, she proceeds to mock me for (actual quote) "needing [my] mommyyyyyyy", does not get me into therapy

despite never getting her children treatment for their own mental illness or being someone they could confide in, perfectly able and willing to use her children as free therapists, from as young as 6 years old.

constant breaches of trust/privacy- instead of simply talking to children or listening to them when they have a problem, she decided to simply read journals, chats/emails, anything private, then becomes angry when confronted.

The first two times I came out to her, she just ignored it because she didn't want to have to deal with it and thought I would just drop it

The third and final time I came out, she said I was mutilating my body, that my fiance would stop loving me and no one else would ever want me, and that I was holding her hostage/betraying her.

again, the most generalized/abridged version of what she's done, and seeing it all down just... disgusts and enrages me. this is not okay behavior. this is child abuse, emotional abuse, just sickening behavior in general, and this whole time I've been making excuses. Because I was taught/told that I "had to understand" because she had been traumatized, so that somehow made my own trauma acceptable? Because she wasn't as bad as her mother, I was expected to praise her and never hold her accountable for her behaviors and actions. I am expected to give her kudos and a gold medal for meeting the bare minimum of food/shelter, as if that's not the absolute bare minimum that doesn't get your kids taken away, and that animals in the animal kingdom do without any sort of celebration every day. a leopard doesn't get a mother's day card for feeding her cubs, she has to do that or they fucking die.

I'm just angry, and I need to get it out somewhere. I am sure this will be eventually seen/found by my sister, and like, sorry buddy but I can't be quiet any more, and I'm not making excuses for her any more. She was abusive. Is abusive. And I don't have to put up with it any more.

#flux's bullshuit #cw child abuse #cw emotional abuse #cw medical neglect #personal #you don't get a medal for bare-minimum parenting #I didn't ask to be born and no one asked you to shit out two kids

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rosetintedgunman · 2 years ago

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Buckle up kiddos. Tonight, I'm going to tell you all about Santa!Wilford (or Wilford Warfclaus, etc). First, I shall bribe you with three doodles to show the differences between how he is normally, how he would look in winter if someone knows the secret, and on Christmas Eve/Day before it all starts reverting back.

No matter how he looks, he's a cutie. Scientific fact.

Now, you may be thinking, "Ash, this is a ridiculous idea that isn't relevant at all". I simply shake my head and tell you to pay more attention. At the end of Markiplier TV, Wilford starts performing an improv scat/performance. One of the lines is "I killed Santa Claus [...] No presents for the children of the world". It's a throwaway joke, sure, but I always remembered it. Plus, it's the only rambling about a cultural/historical figure that made it into the final cut (Mark's bloopers make other references to history).

Then, a few years ago, I was watching the S.anta C.lause movie. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it. It's silly and wholesome. But the general plot is this: if you kill Santa Claus and put on the coat, the clause comes into play and makes you take over. And you won't believe what Wilford did.

This meant, in this timeline, Wilford ended up with this HUGE responsibility. And he hated it. He ignored it every year until mid-December when he either had a strong instinct pulling him back, or elves literally kidnapped him. He should have been stuck in the North Pole full-time, but his own reality warping powers trumped that. It's also why he doesn't look the part most of the time. There was an upside to all this: Wilford finally was able to start vaguely keeping track of time.

But then… there was one year, fairly recently, where he put out a statement banning the naughty list for that year. He realised everyone was feeling rotten, and it might be nice to have something good to look forward to. That idea placed a tiny gear in his brain.

(It's said that Christmas was the most magical in a long time)

At some point during the following year, the gear clicked, and Wilford realised the responsibility he had. Somehow, despite everything that had happened, all the blood on his hands and madness in his head, he was in charge of something that brought happiness. He decided, for the first time, to make a proper effort. This included helping with the heavy lifting, and also trying to come up with "You Survived the Year" gimmicks for those that didn't believe in him.

This year has been a curious one. He's regaining more of his memories as William, and he's more aware of the present moment than ever before. He's been hopping between the Roller, the Studio, and the North Pole, and you might think this is far too much for one character in one verse…. But that's exactly what William did.

You see, after the war, William hated downtime. He didn't like sitting around, doing nothing, and thinking about everything that happened. He had a bunch of free time in the trenches and it's not a good place to reflect on life. William began keeping himself as busy as possible. When things were good, he was working as Mark's handyman, covering duties in the barracks, and working on renovating the little cottage he was living in. Thus, the idea of juggling several jobs isn't that far fetched to Wilford. In fact, with how he can teleport and take shortcuts, it's easier to manage them all.

So what of others knowing? By default, your character won't know. At the time of writing this, Wilford would have half-white hair and a white beard. However, he can hide these when he isn't in the North Pole, and he'll do so as much as possible. He doesn't understand why he can't tell anyone he wants, but it's a rule that he begrudgingly has to follow. It won't stop him trying to find out what people are hoping for or try to motivate adults to take part again, for instance.

Saying that, he can tell people. If he's dating someone long-term, he has to let them know. They would notice the long disappearances. Anyone associated with Christmas or other Holidays would see through his illusion. If it's someone he absolutely trusts, he might drop a hint, but it would be dependent on the individual. Otherwise, he'll laugh off any suspicion, admitting that his tubby shape gives off that impression.

It is a gimmick, absolutely, but it also plays a part in my interpretation of Wilford. It's helped him keep track of time - since taking on the role, he has barely fallen out of time, compared to constantly doing so beforehand. It's given him connections unrelated to the other Egos, and a chance to interact with others in a strange way. It's allowed him to have somewhere where he can be childish and silly and be encouraged. It's a place where he physically cannot take out his gun without it disappearing in a puff of glitter to be temporarily confiscated. All in all…. It's done him good. And maybe, one day, he'll tell someone because he thinks spending time in a place like the North Pole would do them some good too, but we'll see how things go. And! After a lot of begging he's been given a suit that is a little more pinkish-red than it ought to be!

At the end of the day, Wilford is the first Santa to already have reality warping powers. When everything else in his life fades away, he'll always have the Santa role. He can't stay dead, after all, so the clause would never pass on to another. With that in mind, he'll try and do what he can to bring a bit of joy.

Especially to his friends. He's a little biased.

#reporterheadcanon #long post #(I think I've had this on the blog the whole time; or at least for three years)#(whichever it is I am very proud of this silly thing. afaik I haven't seen anyone else take this idea and run with it)#(he has also been trying to use the day to celebrate people surviving the year regardless of beliefs or traditions. You deserve a reward!)#on the tablet #(whoops I better go sleep)

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beigehearts · 4 years ago

Text

Multiple requests are fine! Requests are unlimited.

This is a cool idea so hell yeah

Yandere Adult Trio finding you after a few years after escape CW: physical abuse, mentions of kidnapping, blood, needles

Hisoka

This is rather nice actually. A quiet life in the middle of nowhere where no one questions you. It’s somewhat of a farming community you live in. You work at a farmers market, selling fresh fruits and vegetables to the same people every day. Everyone here recognizes you under your fake identity, and treats you as part of the community. As if you didn’t randomly appear one day. As if you aren’t in hiding.

It’s been about three years you would say. Three years since you escaped... him. You dyed your hair, wore colored contacts and completely changed your clothing look. You moved countries, learned a new language, and completely dropped your entire identity and life. It was the only way you could escape him. How you escaped him remains a mystery to you too. He was always attentive but- you escaped that last time. Slipped through his fingers.

Mr. Grady, the oldest farmer in town hobbles over to your stand and smiles with his big loose mouth. He only has a few teeth but you don’t need many when you blend all of your food anyway.

“Oh hello Charlie. How are you today?” He asks with his frail old man voice.

You smile back and begin bagging up the usual for him. “Very good Mr. Grady. How are you?”

Your conversations are never short but it’s almost become a highlight of your day to hear the old man ramble. “Oh you know. The sheep dog are sick, so I tried rounding those cows up with my cat. He practically got trampled!” He throws his arms up as if it’s unbelievable. You somewhat listen as he continues. “... moral of the story is, cats are unreliable and only have two lives.”

As you hand the paper bag over the counter the old man stops to think for a moment. “I saw someone new up by the shops today, he was a real character. Quite tall too.”

You nod and get the change for the money he hands you, “Oh really? Did you talk to him?”

“He wasn’t much interested in me. Though he didn’t seem like a normal traveler. He was much too eccentric for that.” He offers one last toothless smile, “Don’t work too late. It’s time for the foxbears to come out of hibernation soon.”

Before you can further question him, he hobbles off pretty quickly for an old man. Of course you’re overreacting but someone eccentric and tall randomly coming to town? No it couldn’t be. It’s been over three years since then. And he wouldn’t go this far for you would he?

After closing up the shop you grab the keys to your car and head for the ‘parking lot’. It’s a field with white lines spray painted on the grass with a single light to illuminate the whole place. You hop into your car and are just glad to finally go home after a long day. It was rather slow but that’s because it was a tuesday. It is very busy on friday-monday. You start your car, and turn on the air, you plug your phone in and relax some into your seat.

You adjust your rear view mirror and scream when you do. You just barely catch the reflection of someone in the back of your car. He’s sitting in the back seat watching you closely. You decide against turning around to face him.

“Hello y/n. Or is it Charlie?” He asks calmly, as if it were a casual conversation.

You clear your throat and try to control your shaking. “What are you doing here Hisoka?”

He ignores your question completely. “You really know how to choose a nice town. Quiet, friendly, off the grid.”

“I suppose.” Your hands grip on the steering wheel tightens. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, well, it was quite hard really. You did a good job. But once I found the first person who helped you change your identity, it was just a matter of going down the chain.”

You’d rather not think about what happened to those people. “And what are you doing here?” You repeat your question.

“Well there’s only one thing I’m here for of course.” He leans back in the seat, just barely having enough room for his legs. “I’ve come to bring you home.”

“I don’t want to. It’s nice here.” You state as if you have an option.

He leans forward this time, and cranes his head around the drivers seat to whisper in your ear, “It’s really not up to you pet.”

Before you can even react, there’s a rope around your neck, and he’s pulling you hard against your seat. You claw at the rope and gasp for air. You try to turn some but the rope burn hurts too much. You manage to get your fingers under the rope around your neck, and throw yourself forward.

His head smacks the back of your seat but your head smacks the wheel, honking the horn. There’s no doubt that you’re bleeding. You throw the rope over your head and jump out of the car, and run. But he’s much faster.

He jumps out of the car and before you know it, he grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you to him. He holds you against himself with his arms, leaving no room for escape. But you have one more trick up your sleeve. You throw your head back as hard you can and headbutt his face. There’s a loud crack that you can only assume is his nose.

He groans and his nails dig into your skin through your clothes. “You really got feisty while I was away.” His nails begin to pierce your skin, ripping through the cloth of your shirt. “But it’s no matter, it only turns me on more.”

Illumi

To say you’re on the run is an understatement. You’re practically sprinting away even all these years later. You know that if you stop for even a few days that he would find you. You spend no more than three days at a time in the same place. You’ve travelled half of the world by now- and quite honestly it has been somewhat nice. Not just the freedom from the suffocating grasp of your captor Illumi, but being able to see the world. You would never have done this if not for the situation you were in. Maybe things happen for a reason.

It feels like forever since you’ve been travelling. But the reality is that it’s only been two years. Two long years of not stopping. You have a new name and often go days without eating. It’s not easy getting money when you aren’t in the same area for long.

It was late night when you escaped from him. He never let his guard down so you just had to go for it. He wasn’t expecting you to make a mad dash out of the manor, and hide out in the woods for a few days. Slowly but surely you managed to get out of the mountain prison, leaving through the small door next to the office. The man working at the entrance was sipping tea and reading the newspaper when you left much too busy to pay attention to you. You’re more than sure he was punished for missing you leaving. But sometimes you wonder if he chose to ignore you on purpose, and let you escape.

It’s a beautiful morning. You slept on a few blankets and a sweatshirt as a pillow on the ground of a cave. It was hard to get any sleep at first but you managed to get used to the back pain. The sun is shining through the canopy, streams of light illuminating the cave. The grass outside of the cave is wet with dew droplets. It’s only slightly humid but the breeze with the warm weather is heavenly. It’s not every day you get good weather like this.

You sit up and stretch your arms in the air, yawning tiredly. Your usual morning routine was to get a fire started, and put the tiny kettle above it. In your small backpack you have a few essential items. Coffee being one of them. You get out your tin can after jimmying a fire and filling the kettle with water from a nearby stream. You drop some instant coffee grounds in the kettle and bask in the aroma of coffee.

You pour yourself a cup and put some powdered milk packets and splenda in the cup, stirring it with a stick that looked relatively... clean. But you had a feeling that today was the day. You weren’t sure why this morning you knew he would find you. But you did. Almost on cue, you hear footsteps approach behind you.

You bring the tin cup to your lips, taking a long sip of the hot coffee.

“So this is where you’ve been.” You don’t even flinch at his words. You knew this was inevitable.

The coffee burns your tongue. “Yes, I must have stayed here for a day too long. Don’t you agree Illumi?”

“Yes. It was quite stupid.” There’s a silence between the two of you. You continue sitting on the ground with your back facing him. “Are you ready to leave?” He asks as if he’s picking you up from and elementary sleep over.

“May I finish my coffee first?”

“I suppose.” Though he doesn’t move from his spot, his gaze staying firm on your back.

Luckily you haven’t spent all this time just running, but training. In self defense to be specific.

Quickly you jump up and turn around, you move your arm to throw the coffee on him in hopes of burning him. He grabs your wrist, but the coffee does land on his forearm. You bring your leg up to kick him in the side but he grabs it right as you make contact. The only hit you actually manage to land is when you throw a punch with your free hand at his throat. If it were anyone else they would be stunned for at least a few seconds. But this wasn’t anyone. He shows no sign of flinching.

“Are you ready now?” He asks.

You allow your body to relax and he lets go of your limbs. “Go ahead, put a needle in me.”

He doesn’t argue with your point, pressing a needle to your chest and the last thing you hear is “Don’t fight it.”

Chrollo

The very thought that all of these people by his side had no qualms about you being kidnapped makes you sick. All of them had many chances to set you free and yet they stayed loyal to your captor, as if this were normal and okay. So many people witnessing this unhealthy obsession and not even muttering a word about it. Honestly you find it more ridiculous than you do sad. How did he have all these people under his thumb? Was he really just that powerful?

Wherever he went, you went. One day he had what they called, ‘a mission.” You had caught a cargo train out west and jumped on, as stowaways. It’s not as if anyone checked each boxcar. All of you had fallen asleep in the small space of the boxcar. The train was at full speed, with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Cargo trains were much faster than you anticipated. Once you were sure everyone was asleep, you stood up casually as if you were just stretching. In case someone woke up. Which they did. Nobunaga peeled his eyes open and examined you. But he was too slow, you leaped out of the car before anyone could grab you. You went tumbling through a field after hitting your head very hard against the ground. It wasn’t the perfect escape but it was an escape.

After that you found a nearby farm, and while it was still night you stole a horse from a barn. You rode for many miles, until days later you found a very busy city. Somehow you managed to make a life for yourself, becoming a low grade secretary.

Today was a slow day, your employer did not have many clients today. You checked in on your boss to see if she needed anything but she waved you away. You decided to play solitaire on the computer, a perfectly valid way to waste time.

The phone rings and you pick it up while still keeping one hand on the mouse to play solitaire.

“Hello this is the Seedling Lawyer’s Office. How may I help you?” You stick the phone between your ear and shoulder, playing solitaire.

There’s a chuckle from the other side of the phone. “So it is you.”

Your blood runs cold, and the only thing that your head is telling you is ‘run’. “I’m not sure who this is, could you please state your name and purpose for calling?” Playing dumb seems like the only decision right now.

“My darling, there’s no need for the semantics. I’m coming to pick you up right now.” Perfectly on cue, the sliding doors of the building open and you drop the phone, standing up abruptly.

His eyes show affection and kindness, but there’s a glimmer of... rage. You look around but no one is in the waiting room and you know the cameras are fake for security. This is a cheap layer’s business after all.

“There’s no need for the semantics Chrollo.” You try to say mockingly but it comes out more as fearful and unsure.

His smile drops and he begins walking towards your desk. “Do you understand the consequences of your actions y/n?” He scoffs kicks the heavy desk to the side as if it weighed nothing. “I missed you of course.”

“Ah well, maybe I needed a break.” It comes out as a question.

He corners you against the wall and places a rough hand on your cheek. “Oh darling, oh my sweet darling.” His smile reappears, as sweet as it always has been. “I’m going to kill your entire family.” His hand grips the side of your face roughly and he tilts your head back.

“You really are something. I would never hurt you, you know.” He places a gentle kiss against your cheek despite his tight grip on the side of your head. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences for what you’ve done.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and grab his wrist. “Well you’re hurting me right now.”

Immediately he drops his hand and sighs. “I would never hurt you intentionally, or if not necessary.” He grabs your throat, holding it so tightly you wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk again. He’s crushing your air ways and vocal cords. You claw at his wrist but its useless. “Disciplining you does not count as hurting you.” He leans forward, and if you could yelp you would.

He bites your cheek, definitely leaving a mark. After drawing blood, he licks it up. Your vision is going dark but you’re simply not strong enough to fight back. “Do you understand darling?”

#hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #yandere hisoka #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere illumi #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #phantom troupe #hxh #hunter x hunter #adult trio #adult trio x reader #yandere adult trio #yandere

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shivada-jade · 3 years ago

Text

songs of a siren

characters: venti, beidou, kazuha, albedo ➡ mention(s): xiangling, ningguang, sucrose, timaeus, peepaw warning(s): yo ho ho me hearties

note: whenever i write venti, i always have 27 tabs of rhymezone opened up. my rhyming vocabulary will be unstoppable in a few weeks time. no one can stop me, it will be sublime

Venti:

Venti has seen many things in his free-spirited life. He's seen many different lives and creatures, but something he has never seen before are the fabled sirens of the sea.

"Beware of the sirens!" The old captains of Teyvat warned, "Their music is captivating and will drown you into sea."

"Music?" The bard asks with sparkling eyes.

The old sea captain squints her eyes. "Bard, do you have selective hearing? The sirens will drown you in sea."

Venti laughs, "But I've never heard of singing sirens! Just sirens. I wish to see one."

"Younglings these days," the captain shakes her head, tipping her chair back just enough so she wouldn't fall.

"I'm actually older than I look, you can see me in many books," he chuckles, hopping off the table right outside of Angel's Share.

"Thank you for your sea tips captain!" He says, tipping his hat in a bow with a hand behind his back. "I'll put it to jolly good use. With your knowledge, I'll make sure nothing bad will happen!"

Venti sneakily snatches an apple from a sleeping person's hand and saunters on his way, whistling a few notes.

"Sirens of the Sea will be my next tune!"

Everyday, Venti comes out playing his lyre to the sea, hoping he would be able to hear someone sing back. He made his winds carry his song to the deepest part of the waters, trying to catch the attention of sirens.

And everyday, he would return to the tavern, fruitless as the patrons pat his back singing a drunken song.

The young adults nearby would shake their heads, kindly telling Venti that sirens are not real. The grandparents' eyes would twinkle when they heard Venti playing the song for the sirens while kids would sit next to Venti who played his lyre at the docks.

His green cape flew back as he played a different style of music, one that's more mellow and calm compared to the upbeat kind he plays so often. There, he swears he sees the flip of a tail far beyond the ocean.

He bid farewell to the children and apologize for not being to able to play more music for them. "I'll be back if you bring apples!"

Venti waves goodbye and walks out the exits of Mondstadt.

His legs brush the long grass, reaching to touch his hand as he hikes up Starsnatch Cliff, until he remembers he can fly. Oops.

Swirls of teal lift his feet, representing the winds carrying him to the top. The blue of the sky reflected on the waters, and he decides today is the perfect day to sing for his siren again.

Letting his lashes rest on his cheeks, he plays the same mellow tune at the docks, sometimes peeking with one eye to see if the siren is there.

That's when he hears it. The sound of a loud splash ringing in his ear. His lyre playing turns quick and exited, when looking down to see a bobbing head, and a colourful siren tail behind it.

Venti waves his hand wildly, stopping his lyre playing momentarily.

"A real siren!"

The siren freezes, and sinks a bit deeper in the water. The green bard slowly floats down with a friendly smile.

"Did you enjoy my music?" He asks in glee, waiting for an answer. Venti hovers right above the water so his clothes won't get wet. He sees the siren's eyes look at the instrument in his hand and pushes it to their face, making them lean back a bit from shock. "Do you wanna try the lyre?"

"The lyre?" The siren repeats, gliding a finger on the wood of the instrument.

"Just don't sing okay? I can't drown yet, my pride is still high, and the kids there would be in dismay."

The siren laughs, now gripping on the lyre, "Do you always speak like this?"

"Yep!" He says, relieved you feel comfortable with him and seem friendly too. He scratches the back of his head. "Although... you're taking this lightly. Is it true your singing drowns people?" He asks politely.

The tip of the siren's finger touches their lip, thinking. "Well, in some cases, it does."

Venti's eyes widen.

"But not in the way your folktale mention it!" The siren continues, now clasping on the lyre that Venti let go of, playing a few strings. "Sometimes when our folk sing, the sailors are curious where the singing comes from. But the sailor that spread the story of the deadly, singing sirens is The Sailor That Can't Swim."

"The Sailor That Can't Swim? Now that's a tale I need to hear! Though, I must say, I do pity for him."

The siren splashes Venti, making him dripping in cold water. The berette on his head now droops to his eyes. He grins mischievously as he wrings the water out, showing the hair he hides. A strong gust of wind dries the siren's face, making them go back in the water to splash Venti.

"Right, so," the siren pops out their head again. "It was my great great grandfather that actually sang the song. The sailor was curious and fell off his ship, but he didn't know how to swim and drowned. His first mate blamed my great great grandfather's singing for making his captain drown. We're not bad actually. We stopped singing music so close to the surface."

"Wouldn't that be a sight," the bard hums, listening to the song you play on his lyre while looking at the sky above. "Say, Siren. What do you want me to call you? Let me know before the day turns night"

"You ask me my name before telling me yours?" The siren teases, giving his lyre back.

"Ah! My apologies, I'm Venti the bard!... Uh, I can't seem to get a word that rhymes with 'apologies' that go great with my sentence, so I hope you accept my repentance."

"It's alright." The siren says. "I'm [Name]. It's not everyday I can make friends with someone from the surface."

[Name] draws a figure in the air. "My first surface friends told me to be wary of others, but I think I can trust you," [Name] glances at the green glass, strapped on Venti's hip. "One of them even has the same looking glass orb as you. A vision he called it."

Venti shrugs with a smile, feeling like he knows the person the siren was referring to, "I would like to make a song for you, [Name]. Let's have others know what a wonderful siren you are."

Kazuha:

He sits at the side of the ship, playing his leaf like a flute beautifully. The crewmates on The Crux hum the same notes on repeat. They are broken records.

"Even the sturgeon and the ray, they get the urge and start to play!" A kid sings out loud, skipping behind Kazuha.

"Hmm hmm mmm" the kid hums, replacing the words he doesn't know with just the tune itself. "Under the sea!"

Kazuha sighs, letting go of his leaf for the ocean winds to take. His finger traces the lines of the ship, bored and somewhat annoyed. Beidou's crew had been singing the same song for hours after leaving Liyue, showing no signs of ever stopping. It was like a curse.

He looks over the horizon, the crescent moon shining on the ocean, making the ripples turn to satin sheets covering the water. The world is asleep, but not The Crux Crew.

He lets his hair free from the tie; snow hair moves with the breeze, waiting for his friend to appear.

A tall woman settles her hand on the boy's shoulders, sighing. "It's time to get rest. Your siren friend won't come, especially if sirens don't exist," she says saying the last part to herself.

"Beidou," Kazuha greets without turning his head.

"Come on, kid," Beidou insists. "It's late."

Kazuha stays seated, looking over the waters to find his siren friend. "I think I'll stay here a bit more. The ocean calls me as much as the wind."

He feels Beidou's hand leaving is shoulder. He silently thanks him for respecting his wishes.

"Good night, Captain. See you tomorrow," he says waving her off.

The sea captain lifts a hand while turning away, even when she knows Kazuha isn't looking.

Kazuha waits.

He waits some more.

Maybe Beidou is right. His siren friend won't be back today. He'll just wait again tomorrow.

He begins to stand until he sees a familiar figure in the ocean.

"[Name]," he breathes out gently.

A shimmering siren tail waves at him instead of a hand. Kazuha laughs and waves eagerly. He walks along the side, reaching one of the 'emergency boats' strapped on the ship and untangles its ropes, letting it fall to the ocean with a splash.

He gently falls down, the winds he summons cushioning his landing onto the small boat. His ruby eyes spot something in your hand and he asks about it.

"This? A weird green boy gave me this thing called a lyre. Said he had tons more so he gave me this one after making a song with me." [Name] presents it to Kazuha with both hands, grinning. "The boy even taught me a song."

"Oh?" He tilts his head, "Go ahead, play the song. Perhaps some day we may duet."

The siren sends him a thumbs up and start pulling the strings of a lyre.

Kazuha feels his eye twitch. "This song... what's the name?"

"Do you not like it?"

"No it's just... the crew was singing this song all day. I was wondering what song it is."

"Oh the green boy and I made it. I didn't know it would go that famous!"

"Hmm, keep playing."

Kazuha didn't mind the song the siren plays. After all, when [Name] plays the song, it sounds enchanting. He understands why people tend to fall overboard when hearing a siren play music. In fact, he almost drowned himself when hearing his siren friend sing for the first time.

...

He was preparing a boat to escape Inazuma by a secluded beach covered with sakura trees and many plants of nature.

Placing the planks in one spot, he hears a song in the sea.

Strange.

Enchanted by the singing, he walks out to sea. The water reaching his ankles, his knee then soon his chest to look for what was making the music. The sounds of nature call him back, desperately trying to make him safe, but he was too curious. The singing stops and Kazuha sinks under the sea to hear clearer, but instead his eyes widen and a few bubbles escape his mouth.

Glowing eyes stare at him.

A few scales pattern adorning their face. He looks behind the face and sees a tail, a fish tale. He knows it's a siren.

He sinks deeper, noting the details on the siren. How human ears aren't there, it's replaced by these webbed-like frills looking like a crown. He is amazed, and it seems the siren is too by seeing land legs for the first time so close.

Kazuha kicks his feet up, remembering he needs air to breathe, but a pesky seaweed wrapped around his leg, not letting go. The salt water stings his eyes, hurting more from every second. The lungs that need air start to fail him.

The siren in front of him flicks it's tail, quickly weaving their hands to untangle the boy from the seaweed.

The last of the bubbles escape Kazuha's lips. He shuts his eyes as he feels the drag of a current and the arms of the siren taking him to who knows where.

"So many... regrets," he thinks, letting himself be carried by a creature from only fairytales.

His head breaks the water tension and he immediately gasps for air. He coughs out water, chest heaving against the sandy beach, trying to calm himself. He stills, watching the siren lay on their stomach next to him, drawing flowers and fishes on the sand with the tip of their finger.

Sand sticks on Kazuha's wet skin and clothes.

"Thank you," he says weakly.

The siren perks their head up, hearing Kazuha's voice. "You're welcome!" They return to drawing on the sand and speak up without diverting attention from the drawing, "You're... the first human I've met."

Kazuha props himself up, his elbows acting as support. "Oh really? You're the first siren I met."

"No, duh. You had this dumb look on your face when you saw me," the siren teases, now looking at Kazuha. "All the other sirens say that humans are looking to hurt us. Why is it you don't want to hurt me?"

"Well- I was on the verge of dying."

The sound of feet stomping on the ground startles Kazuha and his new friend. Both of them sit up straight, feeling the ground shake.

"The Raiden Shogun..."

Kazuha flips his head to his unfinished boat and stands, quickly trying to complete it.

"Human," the siren calls, now back in the ocean. Kazuha looks at the siren. "Your broken boat will not take you anywhere. Just hold on to my back."

Kazuha chuckles and runs to the siren, knowing what they said is true. The guards will take him the second they reach him.

He trudges through the water, and clasps his arms around the siren's neck. "I know of a ship that can hide me for the time being." He says.

"So... what's your name?"

...

The song [Name] plays ceases, and Kazuha claps his hands lightly, careful not to wake the crew. He gives a small, "Heh" and leans on his small boat to be closer to the siren's face.

Their faces draw closer and [Name's] cheeks feel warm. Kazuha looks like a prince under the moon and stars shining on him.

Delicate hands make their way to cradle [Name's] jaw, making their foreheads touch. His thumb swipes [Name's] bottom lip all while gazing into their dilated eyes.

"I think your siren family are calling you," Kazuha says cheekily and quickly moving back away from [Name] after hearing the sound of other sirens calling for them.

"Oh, I- Well-" [Name] takes a deep breath before speaking, "Will you be here again?"

"Just as the moon awaits for the sun to rise once more, I will stay as well. I'll wait for your arrival once more at the same spot."

Beidou:

The well known Captain of the Crux Fleet does not believe in sirens. Dragons and the water form called Osial is one thing. Sirens, or better yet- merpeople are a kids' tale in her mind. Not even after Kazuha telling her he befriended a siren.

It's a child's tale; a myth not to believe in, which is ridiculous in Kazuha's opinion because they live in a world of myths.

She stands, sitting on a box of crates, peeking at her anemo wielding friend untangle the ropes of the emergency boat to get down closer to the waters.

Despite her crew telling her to rest at nights, she doesn't. As captain, it's her duty to keep watch after all her crew members, ensuring full safety on the fleet. She watches Kazuha always docking down from her ship to he his siren, but she never follows, only seeing his white hair descend from her sight.

Kazuha harnesses the wind to lift himself up back on the ship after hours being with the so-called siren. His hands move, controlling the wind once again to lift the boat, strapping it back on the ship. His ruby eyes glint to Beidou, who waves at him.

"Enjoy time with the siren?"

Kazuha sighs, knowing Beidou's doing this for the sake of it. "Beidou, they're real. My friend and every other siren in the waters." He says, trying to cover his flushed face by turning away from her.

"Right, right. Well, you only have one hour to sleep at most until the sun rises again."

"What about you?" Asks Kazuha, his back still facing Beidou. "Not even the bravest of warriors could stand their posts if they lack the energy to do so."

Beidou places her hands on her hips and laughs, "Come on, kid. I'll even tuck you in."

"Thank you... but I'm quite sure I can tuck myself in."

"Nonsense. You'll be tucked in."

She takes Kazuha to his own chambers in the ship, amused how he did not struggle against her.

After tucking him in, the tall captain stands at the figure of her ship and overlooks the sea. It is coincidental how when the topic of sirens came up the conversations, there was a song accompanied by it. The song will be the death of her.

Her chestnut hair weaves in the wind as she inhales deeply, enjoying the crisp air. She spots the seen peeking out from it's blanket of blue waves. She is blessed with another day.

One by one, her crew starts to file out. She greets them a good morning and with a surprise, "Crew! We're heading to Liyue. Chef Xiangling sent her kind invitation to eat for free!"

Woops and hoorays echo. Food made by Xiangling is the best.

The Captain lifts a hand and everyone quiets, "Set sail to Liyue!"

Upon reaching Liyue, Beidou swears something was following them, but every time she looks back, there would be nothing. She shrugs it off, thinking it was the lack of sleep getting to her and continues to lower the sails, preparing to land.

"I'll meet you there," she tells her crew. They accept their orders, already knowing were to go. They chatter their way to Wanmin Restaurant. She turns to Kazuha, seeing as he won't leave without her. "Kazuha, has something been following us?" She asks, knowing his sensitivity to things around him.

"Yes, but you won't believe me if I said what, or who, was following us."

Beidou groans, "Kazuha, sirens are just a folklore. I've spent years in my reckless teenage life looking for sirens. There just aren't any." She slaps Kazuha's back, "Let's go eat. You still look weary."

Kazuha purses his lips, looking at his Captain dead in the eyes. "[Name] is waiting below this ship. [Name] wouldn't follow us to Liyue unless something needs to be said." He waits for Beidou's reply.

"Alright, it's about time I met this siren friend of yours."

Surprised, Kazuha parts his mouth. "Wait, really?"

Beidou gives no answer, but instead unties the boat Kazuha uses to go 'meet his siren friend.' She waits on the tiny boat for Kazuha to join. When he takes a step in, Beidou releases the ropes she was once holding and falls to the ocean. This part of the ship is hidden from the people of Liyue, and Kazuha thanks his luck because who knows what people will do when they see a siren?

The small boat rocks side to side, balancing itself. Beidou lazily reaches for the water and splashes Kazuha's face who only tightens his lip in response. "Relax," the woman teases. "Your friend will be here if they're real, right?"

Kazuha summons a leaf, twiddling it with his fingers, waiting until he jumps in the water.

Beidou sharply turns to Kazuha, leaning over the boat to reach for him. "Kazuha!"

She jumps in after him with a smooth dive.

And that's when she sees that sirens are true.

The salt water stings her eyes as she looks at Kazuha making hang motions, pointing to her and up to the surface. The siren nods, understanding, swimming to Beidou. They wave, chuckling with the jaw-slacked face the sea captain makes.

Bubbles escape her lungs, so she treads up quickly, breathing in the air and then coming back down. Kazuha swims beside the siren and shows a smug face, as if saying "What did you say about sirens?"

Divine is the only word to describe Kazuha's siren friend. From the shimmering tale to the beauty of their smile, Beidou can only describe the siren as simply divine (a word Ningguang taught her).

The siren's webbed-like ear perks up to the surface. They tap Kazuha's shouder and cup their ears and point up.

Breathtaking.

Beidou notes how Kazuha and his friend communicate with each other so effectively with only a look in the eye and a few hand movements.

Kazuha nods, smiling then swims up to the surface, but Beidou stays, amazed by the tail of the siren.

"Up," the siren mouths. Beidou remembers the pain in her lungs for not having to get air in a while. She swims up, giving the siren one last look and breaking free from the water.

Strands of brown hair stick to her skin, looking at Kazuha with so much child-like wonder.

"Kazuha, is your siren friend single by any chance?"

Albedo:

Rumours of the singing siren spread through Mondstadt. Greeting Timaeus and Sucrose, he ignores the new song that spread around Teyvat called "A Siren's Tale," but he can't help but wonder if the tales are true.

On rare days Albedo isn't on Dragonspine or his office, he's sketching alongside the water and the marine life inside. It's a new interest he's taken in after learning everything above land. The ocean is so huge, there's an endless amount of questions under the sea.

He finishes the last stroke of a drawing. The Snapdragon and the crab next to it look realistic in his canvas. He sits on an isolated rock, a good distance away from the beach, enjoying the calming tunes of the ocean.

Wait- tunes?

He almost drops his canvas and charcoal, making eye contact with a bobbing head. Curious eyes flit from Albedo to his sketch in hand.

His immediate reaction is to create a flower to lift and up to glide back to shore, but he can't.

The stranger drifts closer to the rock Albedo sits on, revealing a tail that flickers behind it.

A siren.

"You aren't Venti, but I'll take it. I love someone of arts and crafts

Albedo tilts his head quizzically, charmed, "I am indeed not Venti, but thank you for the compliment." He takes a while, studying the details on the siren. "You're not what the song describes you as."

Lifting themselves onto the rock beside Albedo, the siren brings up their tail to wrap around what they sit on. "The song? Oh the one Venti made. I'm so sure we described myself perfectly, partly because I helped make it."

Albedo takes another canvas from his bag and draws circles to get the base of a face, "Well, physically yes. It captures your looks, but never did it once mention how enchanting you are."

The siren sputters, obviously not expecting a stranger to flirt. "What- huh?"

Albedo laughs, looking at the siren that sits next to him, analyzing their features before returning to his sketch. "I apologize. Socializing is not my thing."

"Yeah, I could tell. People usually tell me their names before saying things like that. Granted, I only met three other people before you."

"One being Venti?"

"Yeah. I visit him around this time everyday, but he said he's struggling to pay back a bartender so he's hiding with an old friend in Liyue. His friend's name is Peepaw. Should've been back by now, but he's gone."

"..Oh."

Two fingers push down the drawing and he looks at the siren, confused.

"Are you drawing me?" They grin. "It's fantastic, but why?"

Albedo explains, "I tend to sketch what fascinates me. Your beauty was surprising, I couldn't help but draw you." His charcoal grazes the canvas so swiftly, it's dancing on ice. The black tool turns to a stub, until it turns to nothing but ashes on his finger. His sketch is only half finished.

"Excuse this lousy drawing. I appear to be out of charcoal."

The siren jumps into the water and comes back up with rusted metal from a sword. "Will this work?"

"Ah, that's a sword. I can't use that for sketching."

"Oh..."

Albedo lifts a finger, a thought is said out loud, "I realize I have yet to ask your name. I'm Albedo, Chief Alchemist of The Knights of Favonius."

"Wow that's a long name." The siren takes a deep breath and speaks in one go, "Hello, Albedochiefalchemistofthenightsoffavonius. Pleasure to meet you, I'm [Name]."

"How charming." He says, putting his canvas in his bag. "I mean to ask another question, would it be alright to visit you again soon? You live under the sea, surely you know about the mysteries we have there."

[Name] looks at him like he was an alien. "Are you for real?"

"I'm pretty sure I am."

"You can just tell me you want to hang out. I know I'm fun," they say puffing their chest, proud of themselves.

"You certainly have high views of yourself," Albedo laughs, covering the bottom half of his face with his charcoal stained hand. "I'll be here tomorrow, if you would take your time to see me again."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #genshin #venti x reader #genshin venti #beidou #beidou x reader #albedo #albedo kreideprinz #albedo x reader

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muffinbeliever · 3 years ago

Text

When the Stars Align [08]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Soulmate!Reader

Word Count: 5801

Warnings: language, angst, sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), ANGST, lots of crying, theres dom/sub vibes if you squint, did i mention angst?

Summary: Soulmate!AU– Everyone has the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their wrists. You and your cat are living a normal life in Fort Collins, Colorado when three men come bursting through your door, completely changing your life. Reader-insert story. Starts around S06E08, but Sam has his soul, and it doesn’t really follow the series from there

A/N: APOLOGIES ! i have been absolutely swamped with work and exams. i wrote an extra long chapter full of angsty tears because you know i live for angst. i am so sorry for my irregular postings i'm trying to work on it.

Masterlist | When the Stars Align Masterlist

You snuggled closer to the object in your arms, eyebrows furrowing when you realized it was a pillow and not Dean’s bare chest. Despite last night’s unhappiness with your soulmate, you couldn’t deny that you loved waking up with him. Too tired to open your eyes, you patted your hand around the other side of the bed, frowning when cool sheets met your touch. You groaned and cracked your eyes open, squinting them not only because of the puffiness from crying but also from the bright beams of light streaming through your window.

The door opened slowly, and Dean peeked into the room, his wet hair indicating he just showered. When he saw you were awake, he gave you a tentative smile, unsure of how you would react.

You couldn’t ignore the feelings of hurt from last night, but you knew you were being irrational. Besides, you didn’t know how long he was going to stay for, and you didn’t want to ruin your time together. You could be mad at him later. You returned with an equally tentative smile and watched his face relax.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, his voice as smooth as honey.

“Good morning,” you responded sweetly, patting the bed next to you, wanting to be close to him. He happily obliged, the scent of his cologne filling your nose. The bed dipped beneath his weight and you curled into his side. Silence fell between the two of you, and you debated your next words.

“Bean,” you started, and he hummed in reply. “I’m sorry about last night. I overreacted and I know that it wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just is what it is.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, nervous that bringing last night up would result in another argument. Dean’s large hand rubbed across your back, and you relaxed under his touch.

“You didn’t overreact,” he murmured into your hair. “I shouldn’t have sprung it on you so suddenly. I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know how to find the words or even start that conversation. I’m sorry for ruining our date.”

You leaned your head up, his worried expression filling your gaze. Your heart was no longer pounding; instead, it tightened at Dean’s pain.

“Last night may not have ended in a way that we both wanted it to, but by no means did you ruin our date, Dean. I’ve never been out like that before and it was amazing. There isn’t anyone else that I would want to do that with,” you reassured him, hoping your affectionate words wouldn’t scare him away. A hint of a smile danced on his lips before he leaned down, capturing you in a bruising kiss. And God, this man could kiss.

His hand stopped it’s soothing rubs against your back and instead travelled further south, gripping your ass. His tongue was wonderfully playing with yours, his soft lips like pillows. You ran your hands through his slightly dampened hair as he shifted under you, rearranging so that you were straddling him. You could feel how hard he was under his jeans, and you took the opportunity to press against him, slowly grinding your hips, eliciting a noise from Dean that shot straight to your core. He flipped you over expertly, taking control of the situation. His hands were exploring your body, rolling your pebbled nipples with his thumb and forefinger. You shamelessly moaned as he trailed kisses down the side of your neck, nipping at special spots that made you cry out.

You tugged at his shirt and as he tore it off in a hurry, you quickly unbuckled his belt in a swift movement. He slipped off the t-shirt that donned your body, immediately pressing open kisses on your chest as his fingers danced at the waistband of your underwear. You arched your back, a silent gesture of want.

“Patience, baby,” he breathed against your lips, and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped you. He chuckled darkly, and you gazed into his eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“Please,” you whispered, pathetically. Dean smirked.

“Please what, sweetheart? Use your words,” he commanded lowly, and you could feel yourself getting impossibly wetter. He looked down at you, drinking in the sight of your almost-naked body that was writhing with want.

“Please touch me,” you whined.

“Touch you like this?” he asked with false innocence as his fingers grazed your rib cage, his light touches making their way up your body, kneading your breasts. You let out a struggled moan, frustrated with his teasing.

“Or should I touch you like this?” he whispered hotly into your ear, and before the words could fully register in your mind, his fingers dipped below your underwear and into your wet heat. You moaned loudly as thumb lightly circled your clit while his fingers pumped inside you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and his lips were on you in an instant. You could barely think; how could someone be so good with their fingers? The room was filled with your breathy moans and the slick sound of Dean’s fingers in you. You felt your climax approaching, and Dean could feel it too. Suddenly, his fingers were gone as was the light pressure on your bundle of nerves. You whined at the sudden loss of contact.

“When you cum, sweetheart, I want it to be on my cock,” he said roughly and your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he buried himself in your tightness until he was fully unsheathed. It only took a couple of well-placed thrusts before you were seeing stars, incoherently rambling as he worked you through your orgasm. The snapping of his hips was relentless, and by the time you had come back down from your high, there were only a few seconds before you could feel the pressure building inside you again.

“One more, sweetheart, I know you can do it for me,” he encouraged, and you shook your head, tears forming from the overstimulation of his fingers rubbing your clit and the fullness of his cock. He muttered praises in your ear as you came again, and his thrusts became sloppy as he drove himself over the edge. Spent, he collapsed on top of you, the comforting weight of his body caging you in against the bed.

The two of you laid there for a minute, catching your breath and allowing for your heart to stop racing. Dean pressed a light kiss to your neck before he rolled onto his back next to you. A glance at the clock told you that you had a little over an hour before you had to leave for work. You looked to your right and found Dean already looking at you, a twinkle in his tired eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, and you nodded with a smile on your face.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” There was slight apprehension in his voice. You placed a hand on his cheek and your heart fluttered when he nuzzled closer into your palm.

“I like it a little rough,” you admitted with a blush. He flashed you a wide smile and leaned in to kiss you.

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman,” he muttered against your lips and you giggled. He pressed a firm kiss to your lips before pulling away, getting off the bed in search of his boxers.

“Why don’t you go shower and I’ll cook us some grub?” he offered and your heart warmed at the gesture.

“Only if you make bacon,” you teased and he gasped dramatically, his hand clutching his chest.

“As if I would make anything else,” he retorted and you rolled your eyes playfully. You hopped off the bed and walked to the bathroom, uncaring that you were naked. You debated on taking a shower but instead threw your hair into a bun and opted for a hot bath, as your legs were still a little wobbly from your previous activities.

You hissed as the water made contact with your sensitive skin, but soon you were fully emerged, your muscles relaxing into the warmth. Leaning your head back, you sunk deeper into the tub, letting your eyes close. There was a slight clatter of pots and pans coming from the kitchen and you heard Dean quietly curse followed by the tapping of Meatball’s claws against the hardwood floor. You chuckled, envisioning a spooked Dean accidentally stepping on Meatball’s tail and an equally frightened Meatball scampering away. You laid there for a while, the exact time, you were unsure, but you guessed about fifteen minutes if the light pruning of your skin was any indication. Despite how comfortable it was, you didn’t want to keep Dean waiting. You quickly washed yourself before climbing out of the tub.

The tub quietly drained as you brushed your teeth, and you observed your reflection. Despite your tears from the night before, your face wasn’t puffy and your eyes shined brightly. You put on lotion before making your way to your bedroom. You pulled on a soft pair of leggings and a worn sweatshirt. You threw your towel into the hamper and glanced around your room, a smile quirking on your lips when you realized that Dean had already made the bed.

You wandered into the kitchen, a full pot of coffee sitting on the counter as well as a plate of eggs and pancakes. Dean was at the stove finishing up the bacon when he turned to you and winked.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you. When Dean grabbed your empty plate and made his way over to the sink, you protested but he silenced you with a look.

“You gotta get to work. I’ll clean these up,” he said and you sighed, knowing he was right.

“I’ll cook dinner then,” you compromised and he smiled at you. You gathered your purse and keys and Dean kissed you on the forehead along with a whispered promise to see you later. Meatball was sitting by the front door, his tail swishing with slight irritation and you frowned, knowing he was probably jealous from the lack of attention. You picked him up in your arms and brushed your hand over his soft fur. It took several seconds, but soon Meatball’s purrs filled the air and you placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head before setting him back down.

The bookstore was quiet and fairly empty, but you weren’t surprised. As the weather grew colder, people normally stopped coming in as frequently. Only at the peak of Christmas shopping did you see a lot of your customers in the winter. It was a day filled with stocking books and shared giggles with Thomas. The atmosphere between the two of you was back to normal, something you were grateful for. You didn’t want to lose Thomas as a friend. You were still full from the breakfast Dean had made, so by the time lunch had come around, you decided to go home for a little bit rather than eat.

You walked into your house, Dean’s voice echoing from the kitchen. He was on the phone. You weren’t sure who he was talking to, but he didn’t sound very happy. You couldn’t make out the words he was saying other than the occasional “son of a bitch”. The call ended when Dean sighed and said, “Alright Sammy, I’ll see you later.”

The kitchen was silent after that, and there was a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew that he wouldn’t be staying for much longer. Were you going with him? Did he want you to go with him? Are you guys together? This wasn’t a one-and-done type of thing was it?

“I thought I heard you walk in,” Dean’s voice came and you jumped. So lost in your thoughts, you had failed to notice him leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, a small smirk on his lips. He pushed off the wall and walked over to you, cupping your face in his hands and placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“If I had known you were stopping by, I would’ve made lunch,” he said, his eyes held mild concern and there was a slight frown when he noticed that you were drowning in thoughts.

“Sweetheart,” he said, and you shook your head, eyes filled with tears.

“You’re leaving?” You whispered, and his face fell. There were word lines on his face and his eyebrows furrowed. The small part of you that hoped he would bring you with him was crushed, and you understood that he was leaving you behind, again. He pulled you into his arms and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Y/N, you know why I can’t take you with me, right?” His voice was thick, and there was a sharp pain in your chest when you realized that he too was holding back tears. You were tired of arguing with him. You were tired of the tears and the angst. You just wanted him.

“Be careful,” you whispered, defeated. You could tell he was taken aback, probably expecting you to fight. You stepped away, wiping the tears from your face.

“Be careful, Bean. I’ll be here when you get back,” you said with a sad smile. Because it was true: you’d spend forever waiting for him if you had to.

“I—,” he paused, before shaking his head, clearing his eyes of tears, “I’ll come back for you.” He promised, and you giggled while tears streamed down your face, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. He wiped the tears from your cheeks and gave you a deep kiss.

Kisses with Dean weren’t unusual, but they were nothing like this. This kiss was filled with emotions left unexpressed and words left unsaid. It was filled with the missed time between the two of you and hope for the future. You weren’t sure when you would see him next, but you were sure that you would remember this kiss for the rest of your life. It was the perfect goodbye kiss, and that is what made it so hard.

He left soon after, not needing to pack anything, as he didn’t have much with him in the first place. With teary eyes, you watched the Impala’s tail lights until they reached the end of your street, turning left and out of sight.

While the reassurance of him returning comforted you, it didn’t keep the tears from escaping your eyes and the sinking feeling in your chest. Deciding to take the rest of the day off, you shot Thomas a quick text telling him that you wouldn’t be returning from your lunch break. Instead, you turned the TV on and cuddled with Meatball on the couch, seeking comfort in your feline companion. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that Meatball also missed the green-eyed hunter, as he kept staring at the door as if expecting Dean to walk through.

Time quickly passed and before you knew it, the sun had set and Meatball was meowing for dinner. You quickly began to regret not fighting Dean more, at least asking him to stay for one more night. But he left in such a rush, you didn’t want to be selfish and keep him to yourself when there could be someone out there whose life depended on him.

The events of the day left you without an appetite, so you filled Meatball’s bowl before retreating to your room. Your eyes fell on the dark henley that was laid out on the bed, and you smiled at the kind gesture. As if on cue, your phone rang and you giggled when you saw a goofy selfie of Dean fill your screen along with his contact name “Batman”.

“I wasn’t aware I had the hero of Gotham’s phone number,” you answered, teasingly.

“Not just Gotham, sweetheart,” came Dean’s low voice and your heart pounded in your chest. How was it possible for you to get this excited over a phone call?

“When did give me your number?” You asked, and Dean chuckled.

“This morning while you were knocked out. It was quite a sight; I took a couple of pictures to commemorate the moment,” he said, and you scrolled through your photos, immediately finding several photos of you sleeping, your mouth wide open and your hair sprawled everywhere. There were a couple of you by yourself but others were with Dean, him making silly faces as you slept.

“Creep,” you joked.

“I can’t help that you’re adorable while you sleep,” came his smooth reply.

“Did you see my gift?” He asked, changing the subject. You nodded before remembering that he couldn’t see you over the phone.

“Yeah, I found it right before you called,” you said, picking up said gift and holding it to your nose. You inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of cologne, leather, and whiskey. For the next couple of hours, the two of you talked about everything under the sun, enjoying each other’s company. You found out that he was a few hours outside of Sioux Falls, and that the normally almost 10 hour drive was dramatically shorter due to the Dean’s speeding. After lightly scolding him about his disregard for his safety, you proposed that he take a plane if he wanted a shorter trip, but he confessed his fear of flying.

It was nearly midnight by the time the conversation lulled, and you were laying comfortably on your bed in Dean’s henley. It was a comfortable silence filled with Dean’s deep breathing and the purr of the Impala’s engine, and you quickly drifted off to sleep.

The next few weeks passed by fairly quickly. Although you missed Dean’s presence, he made up for it with daily calls and endless texts. Every morning, you would wake up to a sweet text from Dean wishing you a good day. The two of you were faring well considering the distance. He would keep you updated on his hunts, as well as Sam’s wellbeing.

You were happy again, Thomas noted as he observed the smile that always graced your face whenever you were talking to Dean. Despite his lingering feelings for you, Thomas truly wanted you to be happy, even if that wasn’t with him.

However, there were some nights that left you feeling empty and those nights were the hardest. You muted your microphone and cried yourself to sleep, not wanting to cause Dean any pain. As the time apart grew, so did the frequency of those terrible nights.

Nearly three months after Dean had left, you were slowly starting to unravel. You began to isolate yourself again, turning down lunches with Thomas and opted to stay in your house when you weren’t at work. You often spent your weekends staring at a blank wall thinking about Dean for hours on end.

You were unsure if it was your imagination running wild or not, but you could’ve sworn that your soulmate was getting more and more distant. Your nighttime calls were getting shorter, often ending before you had fallen asleep, and Dean’s voice seemed to be sharper. You rationalized in your head that he was particularly stressed about this case and that once it was over you would have your goofy partner back.

When you woke up one morning without a text from Dean, you knew that your suspicions were correct. He was pulling away. You wished him a good morning and waited all day for a response that never came. Maybe he was just busy?

At 9:57 PM, your phone rang loudly, startling you from your trance. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw “Batman” flash on the screen and your heart leaped out of your chest, a wave of excitement but also anger rushing over you.

“Where have you been?” You immediately asked when you answered, not even allowing him to greet you. Your voice was icy, upset with the way you were shut out all day, and Dean knew that he was in trouble.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice defeated, and you knew something was very wrong. There was a deep sigh before he continued.

“Sweetheart, I have to go away for a couple of days and I won’t be able to contact you,” he said and a million questions raced through your mind, but the most prominent of all: why? Conflicted with where to even begin, you let out a shaky breath that you weren’t aware you were holding in.

“Where are you going?” You asked weakly.

“I just gotta finish this case, and I’ll be back before you know it,” he rushed out. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Dean hastily cut you off.

“I gotta leave now, but I’ll see you soon,” he paused, “I’m sorry.”

“De—,” you called out, but it was too late. He had hung up on you. Furious, you tried calling his phone, only for it to go straight to voicemail.

“Dean Winchester, you will answer the phone right now and explain what is going on,” you demanded, before texting him variations of the same command. You tried calling Sam, but much to your anguish, his phone also went straight to voicemail.

“What the fuck,” you muttered, wringing your hands as you tried to figure out a way to contact the brothers. There was no way for you to track them, and you didn’t even know Bobby’s last name, only that he lived in Sioux Falls. You got on your knees and prayed to Castiel, begging for his help, but when there was no flutter of wings nor a handsome man wearing a trench coat in your home, you did the only thing you could do. You cried.

You thought it had hurt when Dean left the first time, but it was nothing compared to the pain you had felt now. This time, you had a glimpse of happiness, a peek into what your future could have held. A future with pancakes and forehead kisses, late nights in bed and early mornings curled around him. You had gotten used to his witty comments and snarky replies, his teasing and affectionate nature. You had finally began to see yourself being happy for the rest of your life with this man, only for it to be taken away, and you hadn’t the slightest clue why.

A day passed without any contact from the brothers despite the numerous calls, texts, and prayers you had sent. You had no idea where Dean was, how long he would be, or if he would even come back. For all you knew, he could’ve just left you, deciding that he could no longer do long distance. Unable to bare being alone in your lonely house anymore, you drove to Thomas’ apartment.

You knocked heavily on his door and noted the look of surprise in his brown eyes, before Thomas recognized your tear-stained face and disheveled look.

“What did he do this time?” Thomas growled, as he stepped aside to let you in. Not in the mood to talk, you merely shook your head as you felt tears welling in your eyes again. Thomas pulled you into a protective hug, and as much as you wanted to find comfort in the embrace, you were disappointed when the smell of lemons and fresh laundry hit you instead of cologne, whiskey, and leather.

Thomas pulled away once you quieted down, dragging you to the couch and insisting that you stayed there while he made you a cup of tea. You glanced around the room, taking in slight differences since the last time you were here. There was an unfamiliar jacket resting on the back of a chair as well as a pair of shoes by the door that you’d never seen before. When a shirtless man walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, you remembered Thomas mentioning a few months back that his brother was staying with him for the foreseeable future.

Thomas’ brother, you had forgotten his name, swept his dark eyes over the living room, spotting you on the couch.

“It’s about time Tommy found a girl,” he remarked with a smirk. Something about him made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and sent shivers down your spine. Thomas had briefly told you that they don’t really get along, but that he still wanted to help his brother out. You shook your head, clearing your mind of thoughts.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduced, “I work with Thomas at the bookstore. We’re just friends.” You clarified and noted the man’s eyebrows raise.

“Just friends, huh? I would’ve thought Tommy would mention working with such a beautiful woman,” he drawled before sticking out his hand.

“Dylan,” he said firmly and you looked warily at his hand before shaking it, very much aware that he was practically naked in front of you. Luckily, Thomas stepped into the room, a cup of peppermint tea in his hands.

“Dyl, go put on some clothes,” Thomas instructed, before looking back at you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Dylan rolled his eyes and sauntered out of the room.

“Sorry about him,” Thomas said. Not wanting to cause any trouble between the brothers, you shrugged lightly before taking the tea.

“What’s wrong?” He kindly inquired, sitting next to you on the couch. You took a sip of your tea before setting it down, letting out a shaky breath. You spent the next hour explaining what had happened with Dean: how he had to leave suddenly for work and the past several months with the phone calls and texts, leaving out the more intimate details. You then told him about Dean’s changing moods and the strange phone call. You told him that you had tried many times to contact him, not mentioning Castiel, and how broken you felt without Dean by your side.

You were a crying again by the time you had finished, reduced to a bumbling mess, unattractively wiping your face with the sleeve of Dean’s henley that you wore for the past two days. It had long lost its scent, but knowing it was his still brought you a shred of comfort.

Thomas cooked your favorite pasta, and Dylan joined the two of you at the table for dinner. Hoping to get your mind off of Dean, you got to know Dylan more, asking questions about his career and his life in Fort Collins. You learned that Dylan was a problem child and he was at boarding schools for most of his life. He dropped out of college early on, much to his parents’ disappointment. He had gotten in trouble with the law for petty theft as well as drunk driving. He was now staying with Thomas as he worked at the mechanic, fixing cars and saving money until he could get a place of his own. Despite your initial impression of the man, you had learned that outside of his snarky demeanor, he was actually quite a decent guy. Him and Thomas weren’t very close as a result of Dylan being five years older and not around for the majority of Thomas’ childhood.

As the pasta disappeared along with two bottles of wine, the three of you delved into deeper topics. You learned that Dylan hadn’t met his soulmate yet and he was afraid he never would. He had a long history with women, and Thomas pegged him as a one-night-stand type of guy. You told him about Dean and the rollercoaster that was your relationship. You successfully avoided questions that directly asked about Dean’s job and the details of his life. It was nearly midnight when your phone rang.

You sucked in a breath, your heart pounding when you saw Sam’s name on the screen. Why was he calling you, after all this time? Why didn’t Dean call you first? Did something happen? You quickly excused yourself from the table, rushing into the living room before answering. “Sam?” You said, shakily.

“Hey Y/N,” came Sam’s tired voice.

“What’s going on? Where’s Dean?” You demanded, furious at your soulmate and his brother for leaving you without a clue as to what was going on.

“Dean didn’t tell you?” Sam asked, his voice twinged with confusion.

“Tell me what?” You asked, your heart racing at the endless possibilities running through your mind. However, none of them was remotely close to what Sam revealed.

“Lisa and Ben,” he said, and you flinched at the woman’s name, “they were kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped? By who?” You asked incredulously. Sam began explaining how demons came after them and how Ben had called Dean. You didn’t mean to, but you tuned out the younger Winchester, caught up in your own thoughts.

Did Lisa tell Ben to call Dean? Is this why he left? Did he have unresolved feelings for this woman? You collapsed onto the couch. You couldn’t cry anymore even if you had tried. No longer buzzed from the wine, you processed everything that Sam had told you, anger rising in your chest.

“Where is he?” You asked, not caring that you had cut Sam off. He sighed before answering.

“The hospital.” The hospital? Why on Earth was he in the hospital?

“He’s not in the hospital, he’s at the hospital. He’s uh… he’s taking care of some things,” Sam said, and you didn’t even realize that you were thinking out loud.

“I see,” you clipped. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Lisa and her son were the unmentioned things and that Dean still deeply cared about them.

“Y/N,” Sam said, “I’m so sorry; I thought you knew. Dean said he took care of everything.” You scoffed.

“He told me that he was leaving and that he would be coming back later,” you said coldly. You took pity on Sam, the tall man always kind towards you and it wasn’t his fault his brother was an idiot.

“Tell him I am expecting a call when he’s done with those… things,” you said before hanging up. You resisted the urge to hurl your phone at the front door, and instead screamed into a couch pillow before rejoining Thomas and Dylan in the kitchen. Thomas took one look at your face and pulled out the whiskey and three glasses.

You winced at the harsh burn as the alcohol entered your body, throwing back glass after glass in hopes of numbing the ebbing pain in your heart. He didn’t want you. He wanted her. He left you so he could be with her. You should’ve known he wasn’t over her, with the way he kept hiding things from you, how he hid their relationship until recently.

It wasn’t long before you were a drunken mess, Thomas insisting that you sleep on the couch as you were in no state to go home. You barely protested, knowing that you would rather be with Thomas in his apartment than in your house by yourself, sleeping in a bed that you and Dean used to sleep in.

A loud ringing from your phone woke you up. A pounding headache and an achey back signaled that you were hungover and on the couch. You didn’t remember passing out, nor did you remember Thomas bidding you a goodnight. You squinted your eyes at the clock on the wall, wondering who would be calling at three in the morning.

You scrambled off the couch as your phone continued to ring, seeing Dean’s face on your screen in that stupid silly picture he took that you hated to admit you loved. Wanting nothing more than to scream at your soulmate, you unlocked the door and crept outside, not wanting to wake up the whole apartment with your yelling.

“How convenient of you to call,” you said cooly when you answered.

“Sweetheart, I—,” Dean started before you cut him off.

“Don’t sweetheart me, Dean. Do you know how worried I was? How confused I was? You suddenly up and left me without a single explanation, and I have to find out from your brother two days later that you were saving your ex-girlfriend? You were in such a rush that you couldn’t explain it over a text or a voicemail?

“God, I cannot believe that you did that! Why did you keep this from me? Do you still have feelings for her? You asshole, you said you didn’t love her!” You screamed, absolutely done with the whole situation.

“What’s next? You’re going to apologize and tell me that she meant nothing, and that you only want me, but the next time another girlfriend of yours goes missing, you’ll be leaving again, without a single word?” You were out of breath now, your chest heaving. The other end was silent, before Dean spoke again.

“It wasn’t like that. I was trying to protect you,” he reasoned and you exploded again.

“Protect me? You keep saying that but all you do is leave me and hurt me. Don’t lie to me Dean, you were trying to protect her and her precious son,” you said venomously.

“You know what Dean? I’m done. Go be with Lisa and that kid. Go live out that perfect life that you had tried to before,” you said, suddenly exhausted. You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep fighting with him.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset,” he started, “Hell, Sam punched me when he found out you didn’t know. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you, I guess I didn’t want you to worry, but God I’m so stupid. I promise I’m done with Lisa. I had Cas remove their memories of me, so they can live a normal life away from all of this stupid supernatural bullshit. I don’t want her, Y/N. I want you.”

“No, Dean. You don’t get me. Don’t you understand? You chose her. She may not have any memories of you but you sure do have memories of her and the year you spent together. The year you played family. How dare you even be jealous of Thomas, when you’re with her?” You were tired. It was cold.

“I’m done, Dean,” you whispered defeatedly into the phone. “Please don’t call or visit. I don’t want to see you.”

“Sweeth—,” you hung up before he could even get the word out. Bubbling over with anger, you threw your phone to the ground and watched it shatter into tiny pieces. You rushed back inside, throwing yourself on the couch and sobbed until the sun rose.

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