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dapper-shipping-forever · 2 years

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This is way self indulgent, but that's what we're all doing this stuff for, yeah.

M.agi s/i is captured and trapped in a spell that shows her what should be a perfect version of reality.

Just some quick vocabulary used since probably not all of y'all are familiar with m.agi.

Djinn metal vessels are powerful weapons that have djinn within and grant the person who wields it incredible power.

Dark djinn metal vessels are man made versions that use dark energy to power them instead.

Djinn equips and dark djinn equips is when someone invites the power of a metal vessel to transform their body and increase their power further.

I think that's it, lmao 🌸

---

She'd had smarter ideas than coming to this cave by herself, but she can't say yet how dumb it was.

It had been a week since they'd heard she's the latest target of the organization Al-Thamen. Why? Gillian herself isn't sure. She supposes she's been more blatant as of recent with fighting them as she's assisted Sinbad, Alibaba, Aladdin, and everyone else trying to end their plans, but in her eyes anything she's done hasn't been all that spectacular. Regardless, she'd seen an immediate change in Sinbad. He'd refused to let her out of his sight, and was ready to get on his knees to get her to agree to him assigning her body guards from the eight generals. Gillian isn't a reckless person, she'd been content to stay close to their lodgings, though Sinbad would've preferred she'd be shipped back to the protection of Sindria. But she wandered away, and when she heard someone was in trouble, she couldn't help going after them. Which is how she arrived in this dark, damp cave, two agents of Al-Thamen cornering her. They'd appeared a second after she'd sensed them, emerging like predators from behind cave structures and circling her. Wielded by both men, she could see dark metal vessels. One held his confidently in his hand, resembling a large brush, and the other wore his weapons around his forearms.

"You've been a tricky one to catch alone." The smaller, wirery agent said. "But someone like you couldn't hide for long. I pity you for being stupid enough to believe that lie. Now we've got you, exactly as I knew we would." He shakes his head in a mocking way, long hair swaying behind him.

:readmore:

The other agent, a larger, more muscular man just grunts behind him in a baritone sound.

"I'm not looking to fight anybody." Gillian said, holding her hand out in a calming gesture towards them.

The dark metal vessel user simply smiled at her. "Excellent; because there's no use in resisting this. After all, I'm doing you a favor here." And he held out his hand with the dark metal vessel, a bright colored mist emerging from it. The substance crept forward towards Gillian, surrounding her.

Gillian brought her metal vessel forward, but before she could activate it, the mist clung to her completely, heavy yet weightless on her, in her. She blinked, and jolted backwards a step when she saw the area surrounding her had turned far too dark to see anything in. She pivoted, swiveling her head to try and find anything, but she saw nothing near or far.

"I wonder what you desire." The voice of the agent of Al-Thamen sounded around her, somehow surrounding her exactly like that mist he created. "The girl who converses with princes and kings, queens and princesses. Who travels the world and holds immense power in her delicate hands. What do you wish to obtain?"

Gillian thrusts her hand in front of her, djinn metal vessel clinking on her hand. But, it's almost as if she hadn't moved, like she couldn't find her metal vessel at all. Is it not right in front of her? Her body feels strange, and the thought occurs to her that this isn't real at all; but she can't focus on that to find what's real when the voice continues speaking to her.

"I can see it. What a sweet girl. You have such a pure desire in you. The man you've longed for, but who taunts you with the ways he throws around his affection. What you desire, simply, is love." As soon as they say the word, Gillian feels a large hand grab onto her shoulder.

She spins around to see who it belongs to, immediately defensive, but who she sees shakes her guard and makes her take a step back.

Sinbad laughs, care free. He's the only thing she can see right now. "Easy there. Sorry, did I catch you in another day dream there? I hate to interrupt, but the people are waiting for us."

"Sinbad?" She says, voice an incredulous whisper. She realizes with a slight jump that they're both now surrounded by familiar scenery and warm sun light. Birds chirp all around them and the crisp scent of the sea drifts to her as she stands before the royal palace in Sindria. "When did we get back here?"

He gives her an amused look. "Were you that deep in your day dreams?" He puffs out another laugh, shaking his head. "And they call you the responsible one. You're adorable." He sighs.

"Thats not it, Sinbad." She hadn't been day dreaming just now. Had she? No, of course not. She has to tell Sinbad about the Al-Thamen agents who confronted her !

Sinbad speaks again first. "Come on, you can get back to that later. For now, we have a duty to attend to, my love."

The use of the pet name isn't what makes her pause, since Sinbad often uses them for her, but rather she finds herself slipping into further confusion; as if the thoughts about Al-Thamen are becoming less important to her, she catches on the part about them having a duty to do. "What duty?"

"There's a festival to get started !" He grabs her hand. "And the people want to see their beautiful queen." Sinbad starts pulling her along, towards a ledge beyond which she can hear the sounds of hundreds of people gathered below, waiting.

"Their queen?" It's then she looks at his hand clasping her's, and she sees on his finger a sparkling wedding band shining there.

Quietly dumbfounded, she brings her own hand in front of her eyes, and sees a matching ring on her ring finger.

All she's able to think is how those got there. Sinbad, king of Sindria, is her husband? That's not real. Is it? It's certainly not something she's opposed to, she knows as he pulls her towards the short wall lining the length of the ledge. The thought fills her with a pleasant warmth, it's actually joyful. But, she knows this can't be reality. It can't be? She and Sinbad aren't married, they aren't together in the first place. How could they possibly be married? As he stops the two of them at the ledge, intertwining their fingers and lifting a hand to greet his people as they cheer louder, it feels right despite her logically knowing it's not possible for this to be reality. On a sort of auto mode, she lifts her own hand not being held by Sinbad in greeting along with him. Her eyes display her confusion, but she manages to keep her face from showing too much as she tries to decipher this odd puzzle.

But, does it matter? The voice in her mind whispering to stop questioning it keeps soothing her rational thinking.

In actual reality, Gillian stands surrounded by a layer of mist in the dark cave. The dark metal vessel user watches her, hand staying out stretched. "We won't have to worry about her much longer. Soon she's going to forget the real world she belongs in, and shall stay in the paradise I've provided forever. I almost envy her; the power of my dark metal vessel is truly a gift unto this realm."

His companion scoffs, looking at the entrapped form of the girl. Their leaders made such a fuss about the threat this girl could pose to them, yet they captured her easily. No one has escaped from this ability before, and he highly doubted this puny girl could manage that feat.

---

The beating of drums and the rhythm of unrestrained dancing and celebrating fills the atmosphere as the festival rages. Fires illuminate the kingdom as night has arrived and the festival has begun. The citizens of Sindria revel, radiating outwards from the central platform.

Gillian watched them, an ornate cup in her hand. She felt just swept into the hustle of the festival until now. People greeting her, bowing to her, leading her to this platform where Sinbad and the eight generals gather together to eat, drink, and laugh. She currently stands to the side, sipping her own drink. Her eyes scan the group, watching them all. Something just feels strange to her, but she can't figure out what. She knows something about this scenario isn't as it should be. Her eyes land on Sinbad, sitting by himself and laughing along with everyone. Her eyes stay on him, and something that's strange clicks for her as she watches him. He's sitting by himself. Normally at any festivals, in Sindria or somewhere else, Sinbad is almost constantly surrounded by women. They cling to him and praise him as he speaks sweet compliments back to them, the hands that are currently empty except for his own cup roaming their bodies. But she hasn't seen Sinbad interact with a woman in a way beyond being polite and friendly all day. The only flirty remarks have been directed at Gillian herself. The famous womanizer of the seven seas not seducing every woman he lays eyes on? That's strange enough to make her move from her spot, walking towards Sinbad's seat.

As she approaches, his eyes lift to meet her's. His smile only brightens when he sees her, and he stands and uses long strides to meet her part way. "There you are, my love." He says, arm already sliding around her waist and pulling her securely into his side. They face outwards to the sea of joyous people. "Enjoying the festival?" He dips his head to look only at her as he talks.

"Yeah." She says, somewhat distantly. "Its nice. Sindria certainly knows how to have a party." She glances out to the crowds, then looks back at Sinbad. "Though, I'm surprised to see you're not surrounded by lovely women tonight."

He cocks an eyebrow at her comment, bemusment on his face. "What are you talking about? I wouldn't stray from you. I disbanded my harem long ago, too. The only woman I need, and the most lovely of all, is right here with me; my affection is just for you, Gillian."

It's like he knows exactly what she wanted him to say. She can only stare at him wide eyed for a minute, her face feeling a bit warm. That's what she's always longed for from him, from the second she realized her feelings for him as kids. The soft light of the braizers dancing across both their faces as they stare into each other's eyes, her mouth open slightly while he fondly smiles.

Someone in the crowd raises their cup and shouts. "Cheers to the king and queen !" And the entire crowd follows and cheers for the two of them.

Sinbad looks away only to respond to his people with a raised cup, like a respectful king. Gillian feels herself relax, a smile showing on her own face. She sinks into his side, head nestled on his muscular shoulder. This is what she's always wanted from him. This feels perfect, and she couldn't imagine preffering anything else to this. This is where she should always stay. She raises her glass to the crowd below, feeling like nothing is strange.

The agent of Al-Thamen controlling the spell smiles wicked and wide. They've got her entirely. As he knew would be the case.

---

Sinbad had been on a rampage.

He'd felt out of sorts since he'd heard that Al-Thamen is targeting Gillian. He'd managed to convince her to allow him to give her body guards, made her agree to not go off on her own. He couldn't focus on anything but keeping her protected from the organization.

Now no one has seen her in nearly a day. The icey rage that emmenated from him when he was told about this scared everyone around him, Jafar had taken a step back from his king. Immediately, he'd stormed out, directing the gaggle of his subordinates to begin searching, as he began doing the exact same. It's been hours upon hours of searching, and they've finally got a lead.

The sky is stormy and rumbles with thunder as if the sky itself feels Sinbad's intense rage at the people who took her. Maybe it did. Sinbad was already djinn equipped in his lightning djinn Baal form, the fury of the storm in his eyes. Lightning flashed as he flew fast towards the area they've narrowed Gillian's location to. He hadn't waited for the others to come, knowing they'd catch eventually. He planned to rescue her before they do, though.

It's not long after thinking that that he spots it; a cave where they'd been given information about suspicious people milling around, and their best lead on where Gillian is. He can feel something pulling him to it, and that's enough for him to confirm that she's there. He poises himself to attack, and with a powerful thrust of his sword, he crashes into the top of the cave and shatters a hole into the rock, spraying shards of stone everywhere.

The Al-Thamen agents both cover their faces as stones fly and scrape them. They glare at the source, but each gets a shiver along their spines as they recognize the man illuminated by the new entrance to this cave.

The first thing Sinbad sees while raising his head is Gillian. Shrouded almost completely in a thick mist. He feels a growl rumble inside of his chest. Gillian floats a couple inches off the ground, suspended by the power he can tell is coming from the more wirery agent. Their face betrays their fear of him, the hand raised towards Gillian tensing.

---

The festival went strong for hours, only just recently slowing. Gillian laughs as she leans into Sinbad's side, the two of them making their way back to the palace after hours of enjoying the festivities together. The halls of the palace are quiet, the servants either already sleeping or continuing to partake in the energy of the people continuing to dance into the night outside in the city. It's perfect for a walk with the man she deeply loves.

"That was wonderful." She sighs, hand clutching his hip.

"It was. I'm surprised you went that long without getting tired. I expected you to beg me to walk you home much sooner." He teases. His hip bumps her.

"Hey !" She bumps into him in return. "You make it sound like I get tired after five minutes at a festival."

"What do they say? If the shoe fits, my darling." He quips back, playfully pinching at her nose.

She swats at his hand and lightly slaps his chest while both their laughter echoes off of the smooth walls. This feels nice, Gillian thinks.

A soothing, cool wind blows by them from the window, and they both kind of just meander to a casual stop, framed by the gentle moon light coming in. They both turn to face each other, Sinbad's arms wrapping around her waist while Gillian's hands grasp the fabric of his top.

Sinbad gazes deeply into her eyes, and she stares back, drawn into his depths already.

"This is perfect." He says.

She can almost feel the statement thick in the air itself.

"It is perfect." She agrees with little hesitation.

"To share this with you is all I've ever wanted. You're the greatest thing to happen to me; I cherish you, my darling queen." Every word he says is like it's crafted to her specific desires.

"Sinbad." She breathes. She leans closer to Sinbad as he starts doing the same, holding each other in a firm embrace.

His eyes flutter closed and he lowers his head closer. She does the same, lips pursed to welcome his delightful kiss. She can feel the warmth of his breath, the kiss she's longed for finally here.

This should feel right. This is what she wants.

This should be perfect.

She dips her head right before their lips touch, her forehead pressed to Sinbad's chest.

But,

It's not.

"What's the matter?" She hears Sinbad question.

She's not entirely certain; this should feel right, but something, a rational urging, is saying it's not right like this.

Why not? She feels the cloth from Sinbad's top between her fingers and palms and focuses on that. In slow concentration, she rubs the cloth with her fingers. It feels real, but something is strange about about this.

Something is absolutely strange about all of this.

"This isn't real." She whispers, head lifting to look at him after a pause.

"What?" Sinbad replies.

"This isn't real. This palace. This festival. This you." Of course it's not, it feels plainly obvious.

"Of course it is. You are my wife. This is where you belong."

"Its not. I belong outside of this fake reality, with my real friends and family and the real Sinbad." She takes a couple of steps, facing him. "Sinbad, this isn't where I belong."

He seems troubled, and everything about him is crafted like an attempt to draw her back to him. To make her abandon all objections and simply not question this. Part of her can't help just wanting to stay with this Sinbad. "Say that's true." He says. "Wouldn't you want to stay with this me? I'm your perfect Sinbad."

She just smiles, a melancholic expression as she stands her ground. "I love you, Sinbad; but, I love the real Sinbad. He's definitely not perfect, but I love him despite that. No, I love him because of that. I'm not certain that Sinbad is going to actually stop his womanizing to be with me, but I'd rather take that chance with the real Sinbad than stay with any fake."

She concentrates, feeling for her real djinn metal vessel. The one on her hand she can currently see is a fake, it's incredibly obvious now that she's paying attention, it's power feeling almost hollow compared to the real version. Hidden from her, she feels the power, and she feels the plants and dirt hidden in the cracks between the stones in the real reality. All she needs to do is reach for those real feelings, and grasp them like a lifeline to freedom.

---

Sinbad stands straight with his weapon ready, facing his new opponents. "Took us a while, but we finally found you." He shifts his stance, moving forward just a step. "I'm actually kind of impressed; it takes a lot of bravery to do what you've done. You've taken someone incredibly important to me. It's almost as though you thought I wouldn't come for you." His eyes narrow with a dangerous sheen. "Are you brave, or are you just fools for that?"

The agent controlling the spell scowls, but his eyes are afraid. "Do something, that's what you're here for !" They bark towards their companion. Damn ! That man just had to show himself ! He can't move to fight him; if they move and break the concentration on the spell before she completely gives in to the fake reality, the spell would break and they'd fail their mission to subdue her for their leader !

The other agent charges forward, summoning the powers of their own dark metal vessel. Their dark djinn equip takes shape and he transforms into a ferocious silhouette. Any normal person would shrink back in intimidation from the hulking warrior he's become. "I've heard you're a legendary warrior, king Sinbad; your skills are quite renowned. But this is one fight you won't be adding as another victory for your legend." He raises his arms, spiked bracers ready to slice Sinbad to shreds as he jumps into the air above him and crashes towards him.

Sinbad isnt a normal person. He raises his sword and the sparks of metal slamming into metal shower outward from their meeting. Their weapons tremble as the agent pushes into him, but Sinbad holds strong despite that. "Ordinarily," he says. "I might humor you and let this fight drag longer, but you've got me in a foul mood right now." His voice raises, resounding around the cave. "Bararaq !"

Lightning strikes the agent, arching from Sinbad's sword; it sends the man flying away, shooting back into the far wall, pieces of stone shattering around him. He crumples to the ground, unconscious and smoke curling off of him. Sinbad finished the fight in a second, and his attention turns on the other agent.

They make a panicked sound, watching their companion be defeated without contest. What should he do now? If they fight or flee, their spell is broken, and failure isn't taken well by their organization; but just standing here, their defeat is all but guaranteed.

Sinbad begins to walk towards the agent; long, slow strides bringing him forward. Before he gets close, though, they both feel the ground under them crack. Sinbad, out of the corner of his eye, spots a glow shining from within the mist trapping Gillian, her metal vessel brilliant. And from under the rock floor of the cave, giant flowered stems burst out of the cracks. They whip wildly and without aim, emminating in a circle all surrounding Gillian.

Sinbad has to quickly raise his sword to block a stem, pushing him back, but the agent hasn't got quick enough reflexes to stop himself from getting hit. The thick stem lands a direct hit on them, and they shoot backwards, bouncing off a wall like their crispy companion. As soon as his concentration is broken, the mist vanishes completely from around them.

Gillian drops the few inches and her eyes fly back open. Her gaze swiftly scans across the room, and lands on the agent, prone on the stone ground. Next, she notices Sinbad standing there, and she freezes. Everything she remembered from the fake reality comes to her vividly as she stares at him, and only the grunts of the agent and the movement of him pushing himself back to his feet draws her eyes away from Sinbad.

Her shoulders square, facing him with a stern glare. "I told you, I hadn't wanted to fight anyone. But I can if you make me." She raises her hand with the metal vessel.

Her stems shoot out and whack the agent, wrapping tightly around him, immobilizing him. They fall with a hard thud onto the ground, unable to move or summon the power of their dark metal vessel. Both Gillian and Sinbad give no acknowledgment to the frustrated grumbling they make as they can't attempt to free themself from how tightly they're held.

"I wouldn't call that much of a fight." Sinbad remarks. His body feels tense with the anger that's stuck within him, he knows the fight is done but finds he can't switch just like that.

Gillian simply sighs, feeling somewhat drained. This cave is a bit too dark for her tastes; she just wants to get back out into the sunlight to recharge. Besides, she feels sorry for the two agents; pawns of Al-Thamen, practically victims of their manipulation.

Sinbad turns to her, scanning her entire body. He can't see any marks on her from here, but worry eggs continuously at him. He let's his djinn equip release, and right away takes long strides to reach where she is. She looks at him as he approaches, again feeling something strange within her; it's an intense feeling of longing for what she knows could be. As soon as she's in reach, Sinbad grabs her shoulders and pulls her towards him, wrapping her in a tight hug. "I was worried about you." He breathes, ruffling her hair with his warm breath. He's curled his body around her, as if to never be further away from her than this hug again.

He feels the warmth and familiar shapes of her, and slowly that rage leaves. Now, his only thoughts are of her and her only.

Gillian takes a few seconds to react, biting her cheek and thinking of the fake Sinbad. Hugging Sinbad isn't anything new, but to be held as his wife was, and she loved it. But, hugging the real Sinbad, she takes in his warmth, the shapes of his body, she smells his familiar scent and hears the tremble buried in his voice and knows she decided 100% right. She wouldn't trade the real Sinbad for any other version of him. And though she wants more from him, she's content to have him anyway he allows her.

She hugs him too; small, skinny arms not quite enveloping him the way his much bigger arms do, but it's just as tight as she holds herself flush to him. "I missed you."

The two friends who sit on the cusp of romance stay there for several long minutes, holding each other closely. Both are eager to leave, but neither are thinking about it right now. They've taken a step closer to breaking the barrier between them here.

---

And then she got tackled in a group hug and knocked to the ground by all her friends after they left the cave together.

Also I accidentally now like the villain characters I made from this and want to make them developed ocs and um Sinbad and my s/i capture them both alive lmao

💜💜💜

#self shipping #self ship community #self ship #self insert #oc x canon #i tried to add a read more but I think its not actually working #I use mobile #sorry it's long lmao #dapper writes

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moon-kn1ght · 2 years

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clean hands/dirty

pairing: jonathan levy (sfam) x gn!reader words: 1k warnings: prof/student relationship; angst; s3xual imagery; references to absurdism, brecht, cheval, things from my ba in theatre; (not the pwp you're looking for); [could be interpreted as] ooc jonathan; a/n: this isn't fun. this isn't an alluring age gap relationship. i wrote this to tell myself "no." published in honor of the 10 minute all to well version and the line "i'll get older but your lovers will stay my age." masterlist || other jonathan x reader

It began innocently enough: in his office hours with him correcting your pronunciation of ‘verfremdungseffect’ (and not his first time at that). The German tripped you up in a class where most of the foreign titles were preceded with ‘le’ or ‘la.’ He watched your mouth intently as you sounded out the syllables, carefully demonstrating and correcting each sound. “Don’t let the ‘r’ get lost in your throat,” he coached, his eyes on your lips and your eyes on his, watching him model the placement of the letters.

(Innocently enough — but still your mind wandered back to the shape of his mouth and that beard when your hand found its way between your legs later that evening).

Was it still innocent when his hand lingered for a moment too long on your waist at the department halloween party? A drink or two in both of your systems, a compliment paid on the nature of your cheval-inspired costume — a tug at the tutu and fingers tracing across your back and side.

It was enough of a linger for your roommate (dutifully dolled in gold to be the gramophone to your ballerina, a symbolic umbrella shared between the two of you) to catch your gaze and raise her eyebrows. A gesture of ‘are you sure about this?’ that you in turn would brush off (instead of flinching away from his touch before he deemed it to be over).

Other eyes in the room caught the touch too — but no one said anything, their minds clouded by ‘oh it’s just Jonathan, he’s got Mira at home, there’s nothing to it.’ Maybe there would be nothing to it. (They put their chips in for that maybe).

His beard brushed past your ear when he gave you a hug goodbye that night. He whispered for only you to hear, “you’re doing well this term, your future excites me.” Another sincere compliment that burned its way into your consciousness.

Desperate for more from him, you clung to every one of his words. Come to my office, I have something for you. // Will you attend this event with me? I think the students would benefit from your presence. His affirmation, praise was a trail of breadcrumbs that you quickly lost in the woods.

It began innocently enough, but by the time he pressed his mouth to yours at his car on a chilly December night, alone in a dark parking lot, your hands were no longer clean.

“I’m so sorry,” he immediately confessed after breaking the kiss. You said nothing, you just kissed him back. His hands intertwined with yours, stains sharing, four hands carving up one mess that neither of you can come back from.

Your roommate knew. You didn’t even have to tell her.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure,” you said truthfully.

“I’m worried.”

“I am too.”

“Then why?” she questioned, her heart already understanding the hurt that is going to come of this.

(Like screaming for help underwater and all those who could save you just see bubbles at the surface). “There’s just something about it. About him.”

For a time, you flew -- behind closed doors his fingers would find yours. He would hold your hand (but only away from prying eyes).

In class, his gaze would catch yours and you would share a look only the two of you would be able to understand.

He would find his hands under your clothes in the corners of his office. His beard would burn against your neck.

“We are all boats,” he once said, “We are merely the vessels traveling our thoughts from point A to B, through an endless tide of disappointment."

Were you the disappointment? Was this meant to be about Mira?--this is the problem with sleeping with your theatre professor -- he speaks in broken and borrowed metaphors that he doesn’t have the prowess to string together successfully.

If only he’d mention the story of Icarus to you, then maybe you’d listen. You’d have made a different choice. You could have avoided this fall. (But you knew that you wouldn’t hesitate to choose him again and again, no matter how much it hurt).

And you did fall.

You laughed as you fell. You screeched and howled as you plummeted back to Earth. Sure, it hurt but there was also a triumph in it -- to be so close to the sun, to be scorched by his rays, and then to fall.

Did he notice? Did he notice your pain? Did he notice how much you hurt after grazing just too close to the true him. No, no, no.

Blisters ran trails across your body in the same tracks that his fingers would rake, over and over, after he would press himself inside of you. Scorched.

#jonathan (scenes from a marriage) x you #jonathan (scenes from a marriage) x reader #jonathan (scenes from a marriage) x gn!reader #jonathan levy x gn!reader #jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy x you #scenes from a marraige #scenes from a marriage fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #angst #professor/student #di writes

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semischarmed · 3 years

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“Ben”

I was out on a socially distant walk by the woods when I notice a fire dance across the night sky and into the woods. Against my better judgement, I decide to investigate.

A small glowing silver ball sat among the forest wreckage. I reach out, almost by trance, and immediately feel a spark course through me on contact. In the process, my clothing ignites in brilliant green flame. Then, I feel a presence. Immediately, I turn around, still holding the orb. Amidst the green flame was a puddle of metallic gray slime. It vibrates before sending out a little slimy limb which slowly rocks side to side, as if to examine me, before jumping for my face.

For once in my life, I react quickly enough and instead catch the thing in my hand. It was slick, and unbelievably cold. The mass begins to glow dimly, as I hold it out in front of me. I stare at it expectantly as it again forms a tiny limb, re-examining me. In a flash of green, the little wad of silver goo transforms into what appeared to be a tiny silver human. No, human’s not quite the right word. It was humanoid, sure, but the proportions were all wrong, almost cartoon-like. It had a larger more bulbous head with large reflective eyes and a small, near indiscernible mouth. The hands were larger as well, while the arms and legs were far thinner. Despite strange the sight before me, I sense no ill intent. Its beady little black eyes watch at me, displaying not only life, but intelligence. Words cannot explain how I knew, nor can it explain why I ask my next question out loud in a language it certainly did not understand. “What are you”?

Its eyes begin to glow as it opens its mouth to speak, “Human...” it states in plain english. I jump back, almost dropping the thing out of my hand before catching it. “Thank you. I have chosen a form and language most suitable to your own. I am weak from my crash and from your atmosphere. You are not afraid or angry?” It takes its little arm and gently strokes my skin. “Your body appears to be incompatible with my physiology... perhaps due to your contact with my craft. As I understand it, your species is incredibly hostile. If you are intending on destroying me, my only wish is for a swift and painless death.”

I stood dumbfounded until I realized the small orb-egg-thing he came in was some kind of craft. “uh... this yours?”

“You seem unafraid of my presence and do not appear to intend to destroy me, despite these circumstances. Perhaps my information is incorrect? Has your planet had contact with other such beings previously?” it asked. “No.. uh, I can’t explain it but you don’t really seem like a bad-“

“-Guy” it corrected me. “My closest equivalent to your species is what you would classify a male. You appear shocked. Are you alright?”

Holy shit an actual, real-life alien! And it speaks English! I screamed in my head. Despite the absurdity, I cannot help but respond plainly, “Oh, um, this planet has not had any contact before. At least not that I’d be aware of.”

“I see, you are a friend then. Thank you human, I am in debt to you” it states. Looking at the small humanoid before me, I cannot help but want to protect it. It obviously did not intend to do anything or it would have killed me by now. Still, I felt somewhat bad, he really did not seem like a bad guy and, from the movies, it never usually ends well for the alien.

“You came in a big crash, right? So the government or whatever is probably looking for you. We should probably find a safe place for you, um... what can I call you, anyway?” I ask. It looks at me in silence again, then flashes an impossibly bright, green light from its hands before pondering for a moment, and stating “You have not lied. Thank you for your sincerity and your support. I may be called Ben.”

“Ben?” I can’t help but chuckle a little. “You travel all the way across the universe and you’re just plain old Ben?” Its formed its own little smile, which I find endearing. “My true name is—“ the rest was unintelligible. “Ben it is!” I laugh, “Look, we need to get you out of here. I’ve seen what they do to aliens in the movies.” Ben produces a small oddly heavy rock. “Understood. Please. Drop this into my crash site. It should cover our traces” it states in a weak smile before falling over momentarily. I oblige.

“Cool, cool. So...um.. what now? Also, are you alright?” I ask.

“Your planet... It is poison to my form. I am moments away from death. I need a genetic input to adapt to this atmosphere. I would feel safest inside a human.” Inside?

“Well.. uh... i dont really have much going on, on a friday night so...”

It smiles again. “I appreciate the gesture, friend, but as I have mentioned, our forms are incompatible. As such, I require a different vessel. Please select any of your choice.”

“You’re a little forward, buddy” I add playfully.

“Apologies human, your language is somewhat difficult to grasp. I appreciate any and all attempts at assistance”. The little silver alien in my hand sits down.

“Ok, let’s get you somewhere safe... Anyway I know just the guy....”

Fucking Austin. That smug tool was the my bully from way back when and was/is a massive jerk. He was also fucking hot and he knew it. I think he got off on it too- After years of torment, I couldn’t wait for this little alien to do whatever it needed to do inside him.

The walk back is embarrassing as my naked form scrambles in the dark, hoping to avoid any onlookers. Thankfully, it was the dead of night, and our neighborhood is fairly empty. I walk up to his garage, lit by a lone bulb, where he was presumably working on his car. Sweat and grime cover his torso. Of course, he strips to shirtless as soon as he notices me, offering me a tantalizing peek, like he always did when he brought a girl over. “Why are fucking naked you creep. The fuck you want, fag?” He sneers as his eyes immediately lock on to the small orb I am using to cover my junk.

“THIS!” I shout, extending out my other arm, holding little alien man. For a moment, nothing happens and he raises his eyebrows in amusement. It quickly shifts in shock when Ben springs to life, jumping onto Austin’s bare chest. The little silver man clings to his sweaty chest hairs, using them as leverage to scramble up Austin’s face.

“The fuck?!” He spat as he swats at the little alien. With a fervor, Ben dodges and continues inhumanly and follows with his quick dash, crawling up to Austin’s right nose. Austin attempts to get the little silver man off him but to no avail. Despite his shape, Ben is incredibly slippery, and Austin’s thick fingers cannot get a good grasp.

Austin screams as Ben has lodged himself inside Austin’s right nose, secreting a silvery slime while he burrows ever deeper into him. Austin’s eyes shut tight and his mouth opens in anguish. “FUCK!” he shouts as he tries to pull my friend’s tiny legs out. Ben is victorious in this struggle and Austin’s fingers again slip. “AHRRG” He shouts, while right side of his face crinkles in pain. I watch in amusement as Austin is reduced to small, rhythmic grunts. “....Fu-...Fu-... FF....hu...hu”. I no longer see any semblance of my alien friend so he must have crawled deep, deep inside of Austin.

Stillness washes over Austin before he starts again, mumbling slowly. “S-stop.... get out” he repeats, as his body starts swaying back and forth and his head bobs forwards and backwards. His eyes roll to the back of his head in delirium. Abruptly, he screams “GET THE FUCK OUT” in an angry growl and one eye rolls back go lock on to me. “YOU!” He shouts. Before he can move any closer, the veins in his body flare to life and I notice they start writhing, throbbing, coursing with some silvery liquid before returning to normal. Austin’s face quickly goes from anger into unconscious stupor as a line of silvery drool escapes his mouth and his entire body begins trembling. He slumps foward and then falls. I run forward and struggle to try to hoist the massive pile of quivering meat up. Still, he topples over, falling right on top, crushing and pinning me beneath the weight of his muscled form.

Despite the situation, I am completely entranced. I can barely breath from the weight of Austin on top, only managing steady, shallow breaths. He continues convulsing, causing the day’s worth of grime and sweat to smear onto me. Hot. Just feeling him like this, feeling his skin meet and rub across mine, was turning me on. This was physically the closest I have ever been to this man. His convulsions slowly die down, until he is just sleeping on top of me, pinning me to his dirty garage floor. I remark him, the breathing in his shallow breaths, the heat from his previous struggle, his salty, putrid sweat that now caked both of us. I was taking in all the Austin that I had previously only dreamt of having.

His gentle sleep is broken when his eyes shoot wide open. They’re incredibly wide, dilated, glassy. Silver tears escape their corners. His lips curl into an open mouth, breathy smile, and he motions to speak “..... ahhhhhhh” he states moving the muscles on his face and vocal cords as if for the first time. Despite the absurdity of the situation, I could clearly tell what was happening. Enough movies and TV and wishful dreams to more or less grasp what had just occured. The man before me was not Austin-at least, not the Austin I knew. This was all Ben.

“Sorr-“ he murmurs, as he pushes himself and his weight off me. He watches himself, first moving his digits one at a time, while he examines how muscle and sinew stretch and contract to accommodate his commands. He gently rubs his hands together, as if to wash them, remarking on every feeling. With these gentle fingers, he traces over his left bicep, following it’s curves and valleys, as if he had sculpted them himself. He tugs a little at strands of his armpit hair, remarking on the new texture, before sniffing the droplets of sweat that had clung to his fingers and making a sour face. “You humans are so fascinating. It’s like this body is constantly producing its own serum. what a wasteful process. Such a high temperature as well... your are.. inefficient models.” He licks his right bicep like a cat, which causes a stirring in my pants. “Still, these byproducts of your living... they are quite delicious”.

Austin’s tour then follows his chest. “I see you are bound to your forms, with no ability to shift”.’ He cups his left nipple, remarking at the musculature within. “Hmm... that description is inaccurate...You appear to be somewhat capable of physical change, though not as drastically as my species.” He twirls a finger around his left nipple, smiling slightly at the stimulation. “Oh...though your species has a far heightened pleasure ceiling. This is...” He trails as he repeats the maneuver with his right nipple and stifles a moan. I stand, awestruck and slightly horny at the sight of my former bully pleasuring himself. He continues, taking his hands further down and feeling each ab before he stops at his pants. Austin pauses, curious, raising his head as if to scan his own brain for information, before flatly stating his catchphrase “Bet you’d like to suck this fat cock, wouldn’t you?” He spat to the side before immediately resuming his former tone, “Apologies, human emotions are... difficult to reign in. This vessel is responding to my intrusion unpredictably...“ He then wears Austin’s personality again. “But anyway thanks bitch, for giving me this hot, hot, jock cock. Time for me to pay up. I got cash... booze... weed... other shit” he winks. “So what’ll it be?”

In the heat of the moment, I could only reply back what I wanted. What I’ve always wanted. “Let me suck your fat cock” I reply automatically.

The mood shifts immediately and Austin’s face is perplexed. “This function you are requesting, it does not lead to procreation. It lacks any of your societal benefit...What good does it do you?” I decide to push a little further than I normally would have. “Let me show you” I state, giving him a wink. I strip Austin down and gently grab his thick cock, relishing in the moment. It flares to life, slowly hardening, increasing in size. I clasp my hand a little tighter around the rod start with slow, rhythmic strokes. Of course, I look to the face Ben was wearing for any cues, but it remains emotionless. I start to pull away before Ben finally speaks up “I see... benefit. Please, continue demonstrating”. Fuck. After all these years. All his teasing, he was finally here and he was finally mine.

“My body appears to recall this... this behavior is consiered gay, yes”

“Fuck yeah it is....”

“My body... these memories I have commandeered indicate this is something Austin is neither familiar nor entranced with. I will try to apply its equivalent knowledge accordingly” he stated flatly, somewhat confused at the situation. “Apologies... as I have mentioned, your language is a little complex.” I ignore him and continue.

“I personally.. to find this behaviour... hmmm.... acceptable...but.. he.. appears to.. I... Hmmm.... Fuuuuck!” he screamed, as his body abruptly leaned forward. His emotionless face begins to dance with a wellspring of feeling. It cringes first, then flashes into one of bliss, then pain, anger, intimidation, until settles into sneer. Mine of course flashes imminent doom. Oh Shit.

“Uh.. little buddy? You there?” I ask nervously. He grabs me, dragging my face near his. I am prepared for the worst.

“You know, he really fucking hates this. I can feel him resisting... Fuck you!” He spits. I still cannot tell who is who, until he clarifies. “Austin must really, really hate you.... but I dont” He leaned his face further in, giving me little chance to react before he jams a thick slimy tongue into my mouth. When he pulls back, his face then showed an odd emotion-cute, even. He was looking for approval. I, turned on by the past events, quietly nod in shock. Emotion immediately shifts back. “Come here, bitch!” he screams, pulling me back to him, bringing our faces close together while he hocks a wad of Austin’s spit at me. That part, I was familiar with and I instantly wince, expecting the normal pummeling I’d get. Instead, he sticks his hand down to scoop some of cum he had just released and aggressively smearing it all over my face and running Austin’s seed through my hair. “You’re mine forever, you get that right? Fuckin twerp. You fucking want this, right?” Austin stated with a sneer. He jams his tongue into my mouth again for another sloppy kiss and I explode cum in my underwear. Goddamn this was hot. Fuck. All those years of torture and in the end, here he was, seeking my approval, seeking to be mine. The sneer plastered on his face shifts immediately to one of concern and validation-seeking.

“Are you alright, friend? I apologize for the scare, I was attempting to follow-“

“No, no, no...” I mumble in heat. “Turn... FUCK...turn whatever the fuck that was back on. This is, god, this is everything.”

My little buddy complies, rolling Austin’s head and eyes back before immediately shifting his face back to his trademark sneer and giving my face a sloppy lick. “Bro, this body fucking hates you. You know? Feelings are created by brain and all that shit, like damn... all I wanna do inside this hunk of flesh is give you the pummeling you fucking deserve.” he states menacingly, before giving my face another lick. “But dont worry I fucking love you, bro. Look at me when I’m fucking talking. I am Austin. New and improved. Maybe this was what I was missing in my home-world. Maybe your degenercy has tainted me. Maybe this vessel has. To be honest, we don’t really give a fuck. Well, he does but I speak for us both now. This little... experience...has been a delight and a revelation. According to this meatbag’s brain ‘you’re gay as shit’ so, help me to help you. Austin’s gay as shit now too. For you at least. Help your daddy Austin betray his species find me some more of these kinds of males. Whichever you like. I’ll make our wildest dreams come true.” He comes in for another sloppy kiss, and sticks his muscular hand down my pants, corralling my seed and scooping out it out moments later. It is slick with my cum. “Hahaha this body finds this act so revolting. According to his memories, he finds you utterly disgusting. Well... I’m into it, let’s stick some of you inside Dear old Austin. I’ll stuff your cum so deep in him, he’ll never get it out. Our boy is quite the fighter too, he’s resisting me, even now”. Austin regains momentary control. “NO FUCKING WAY” His arm struggles and shakes as it brings the cum-covered hand to his mouth. In the end, Ben is successful and Austin has no choice but to jam the slimy hand to his mouth, slurping each digit individually, caking his insides with me. “Mmmmm but you taste so fucking good...bro... well to me at least. This body physically hates this. Too bad our little Austin isn’t in control right now. And when I’m done with him, he’ll come back wanting more”. He repeats the gesture with his other hand, and cracks his neck, piloting Austin far more naturally. “As long as we keep him well-fed, I can continue to pilot this hot piece of ass without resistance. We will transcend this meat-suit. With me running the show from this fucking hot bod, and you at our side, we will be unstoppable.” He states in deranged glee. I worry slightly until Austin’s persona flips to Ben’s normal formal tone. “Ah, apologies, as you know, this body thinks very highly of himself” he states with a slight chuckle ”but no worries... no more outbursts.”

“Some more information about myself, while I make some rearrangements to this body’s brain. My species has the ability to commandeer others into vessels, though I believe this is a byproduct of our formless nature more than our intended purpose. You see, home-world has isolationist tendencies. We keep to ourselves. I am somewhat aberrant in this matter. We are powered by genetic diversity, yet they choose to remain within the one world when there is a whole universe outside of home to explore. I am different. I want it all, I want to see, hear, feel, experience what this wonderful universe has to offer. For that, I was cast away, to travel this lone plane with my craft. This life is a quiet one, so I am fortunate to have met you.” He strokes my cheek lovingly with Austin’s hands. I initially wince out of habit, but he seems to have understood. “Thank you, for everything,” Ben says sincerely with a kind smile. I beam back but immediately blurt out what had been on my mind throughout his whole monologue “why me though?”

“As you know, each human’s genetic output is a mix of information.”

“Uh huh” I trail, struggling to follow along.

“Well, your specific combination produces a nectar to our species which we would find intoxicating. Perhaps it had been slightly altered by my crash.” Ben stares at me with Austin’s eyes, relaying an intelligence that my former bully had never previously had. “Beyond that, in my eons of travel, I have never met a more kind or accommodating individual”

“I like your genetic material, your signature, your blend...it is... hmmm...there is no equivalent phrase for this- at least within your capacity of emotion- but make no mistake, it’s delicious and I would like some more.” His demeanor shifts. “Do you like Austin? Do you like me?” He asks in a playful tone as he circles Austin’s nipple with his finger. Austin then grabs my arms, rubbing them across his abs. “Yeah, this meatsuit is a fucking keeper, isn’t he? I can tell you love this bitch” He teases with Austin’s mannerisms. Ben has been getting really good at this, he’s practically imperceptible from Austin when he’s acting. I nod eagerly in approval, still feeling up my former tormentor as he stretches his arms and gives a yawn.

“Good, good. Well he’s all set. Let me just get our friend Austin prepped. I will to give him some autonomy but, given my penchant for your genetic information, you may see a slight adjustment to his personality.” He winks. “Please bring my pod over, I must conserve some energy, I believe to you humans to understand the equivalent to be hibernation.” I pull the pod up to Austin. “Lower bitch” he commands, grabbing my arms and pulling the pod to his dick. He strips Austin naked before wrapping Austin’s vascular hands over mine, moving them in a way that splits the pod open. He then uses Austins hands to slowly wrap my fingers around his dick. “Pump,” he commanded. I comply, masturbating his dick until it explodes a stream of silver all over the pod. The silver gel congeals into the pod and Austin’s body drops unconscious. I catch the pod and gently place it on his table.

I watch Austin expectantly. He wakes, showing me a look of confusion before sternly asking “the fuck are you looking at, fag?” He then sniffs the air, raising his thick biceps to quickly verify if the smell had been emanating from his armpits. He grimaces, “Goddamn I reek...Did you do this?” Eyes lock with mine as I see only fury blazing. His eyes go wide as his face displays the recollection of our nightly encounter. He quickly runs over, blocking any escape route out of his garage. “You bitch!” He shouts. Before I can react, Austin pushes me up to the wall, shouldering my body and neck and locking me and my airways in place. He raises a fist, and I flinch until... well... nothing. I watch his face, attempting to discern what had just occurred. He releases his grasp slightly, allowing me to finally catch my breath.

He was still furious. Unimaginably so, but I see it tinged with something else as well... shame? And I then notice another feeling, as I begin to feel his heartbeat and breathing quicken. It’s an emotion I have only been able to see in him once- only when Ben had been controlling him. It was lust. He again motions angrily to punch me with a muscular right hook, before stopping his own hand, mere inches from my face.

“I UGH...FUUUUCK....” he shouts, looking away seemingly angry at himself before he punches the wall beside me, leaving a dent. He looks back at me, motioning to give my cheek a tender stroke before he catches himself and shakes his head in anger. “That spiteful bitch! I dont know what little trick you pulled you little asshole, but... hmmmm” he moans, smelling the scent of my fear and desperation... ”man have you always smelled this good?” he mumbled quietly to himself. I decide to take a little risk with this opportunity “Yeah bro? I taste pretty good too,” I state seductively.

That seems to have set him off. He was still somewhat angry obviously, but the lust only seems to have only deepened and overtaken him. He rushes our bodies closer. Sweat drenched abs hover tantalizing close to my stomach, as his sculpted biceps and vascular forearms bound my cheeks. He leans in, inches from my face.

“You want this ass, right? I can be a fag too, only for you” he whispers, leaning even closer to me as I breath in my prior bully’s hot steamy breaths. I instantly go hard. He notices and proceeds by planting a slow, sloppy kiss on my lips. I have to admit, Austin was a great kisser, better than Ben even. Hungrily, Ravenously, his lips pry mine open as his thick tongue dances inside my mouth, greedily tasting me. I reciprocate. In turn, he hugs our bodies together, and I feel his large form encapsulate my own with a warmth and an odd tenderness that I had never even fathomed him capable of generating.

He pulls back, breaking me out of my trance. “But, can you put that little thing back in me... I... uh... together...we uh...look, I want him back. I need him back.“ He begs. “Something...missing inside me.... fill it”.

Goddamnit Ben. I gesture with my head to the motionless pod containing my friend while I chuckle to myself. “He’s sleeping”. Slight adjustment my ass.

He looks back at the pod, obviously disappointed. Then he looks at me, gaze softened, the facade from his usual persona all but broken, “Sorry, can’t help myself... well fuck it, I know you always wanted this anyway,” he mumbled as he nuzzled my neck and shoulder, taking in my essence in deep inhales. I feel myself blush as he continues and then does a quick survey of my body. “When he’s using me.. I can feel... I-I know he loves you... look, I know he wants more... but you fucking better- I’m gonna stay your fucking favorite right? You can use me too, or whatever. I can be your bitch. I can be whatever you want me to me... Just, keep me around, ok? And keep him inside me” I muse at how the old me would have killed to hear similar words from Austin, years ago.

He pauses for a moment, looking away in disgust at his own actions before yielding and scratching his head as he forces out his next words:

“look man... just... the thing that’s missing from me... well this is gonna be weird ask bro, but...can you cum in my mouth?”

—————

I’m a little bit shit with the titles but thats neither here nor there. Used some other similar stories I’ve read in the past for inspiration. Hope y’all like it. Next one’s probably gonna be a continuation on that Chrysalis one. What kind of possession stories are your favorite?

#male possession #malepossession #male puppet #alien possession

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

Text

Lay Me Down (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello, again! We have reached the endgame, as in we have reached Endgame in the timeline. Loosely inspired by Sam Smith’s “Lay Me Down”. Pieces from the film are used, but definitely have adjustments to fit the story. Let me know your thoughts!

Summary: How will the events of Endgame play out for Y/n and Wanda?

“Can I lay by your side, next to you? And make sure you're alright, I'll take care of you. I don't want to be here if I can't be with you.”

It felt as though everything went dark for just a moment and almost immediately you were back. The first sight that greeted you when you opened your eyes was a man in a cape, much to your disappointment. You would have much rather been greeted by a certain green-eyed woman who held your heart. The man urgently informed you that you all had been gone for five years, erased from existence by Thanos. The idea was so troubling that you almost didn’t believe him, but something within you knew it to be true. You had felt it in your final moments in Wanda’s arms before you faded away.

Wanda. She was the first thought to enter your mind. Had she existed the last five years on her own? Was she erased from existence with you? Was she okay? The last thought struck fear into your heart. You wouldn’t know what to do if she wasn’t.

There was very little time for processing though since the man, who said his name was Stephen Strange, told you it was time to fight again. If you all didn’t act quick, Thanos would be sure to succeed in his wicked plan again. This required everyone, and you didn’t hesitate to agree when Strange opened a portal for you to enter through.

The portal that Strange created for you opened into a bleak field, and as far as the eye could see were waves upon waves of Thanos’ army. Thousands of them. There was one thing that gave you hope though. One thing that made you believe that the battle wasn’t lost yet and that was seeing countless members of the Avengers step out of similar portals. Despite the myriad of people stepping out of various portals there was no sign of Wanda which caused anxiety to bloom in your chest. Unfortunately, you weren’t given much more time to look for her as the members of Thanos’ army appeared to push forward eagerly.

You knew that your main focus should have been preventing Thanos from erasing half of humanity again, but you couldn’t help the fact that Wanda was the one thing at the forefront of your mind. She always would be. The heartbroken look on her face as you faded away was burned into your memory. You needed to find her, and you needed to find her now. You needed to see for yourself that she was okay.

You didn’t care if you had to tear Thanos apart with your bare hands to do so.

When Thanos’ army began to push forward even more, you got into a defensive stance, everyone around you doing the same. A unifying sense of determination was heavily present around each of you. Losing was not an option this time.

The sound of a familiar voice caught your attention. As you glanced over you took in the sight of Steve who looked worse for wear but okay overall. Breathing, and that was what mattered. A sense of relief washed over you because at least you knew that he was okay. “Avengers,” he called and reached a hand out, your eyebrows quirking in surprise as he summoned mjölnir. “Assemble.” He finished assertively as each of you rushed forward, prepared to overcome any obstacle that stood in your way.

The anger that you felt at the situation made it easier to harness your powers. Anger that Thanos thought he had the right to take life, anger for the knowledge that he succeeded once already, anger for being taken from Wanda.

Looking around, you noticed that one of the bigger threats was a metal looking creature that was firing down at everyone. With a deep breath you focused your attention on the being and slowly brought your hands together, forcing the vessel to fold in on itself and rendering it useless. Smirking in satisfaction as you watched it fall to the ground.

As soon as the army noticed who destroyed the creature more of the beasts began attacking you. Dozens had surrounded you when you saw a small glimpse of red energy flash out of the corner of your eye. It was faint and in the far distance but you’d recognize it anywhere. The red energy could only mean one thing. Wanda. She was still here. Your heart pounded anxiously.

You need to get to her now.

Making quick work of the creatures that surrounded you, you began sprinting in her direction as fast as you could. As you got closer you could hear her voice over the chaos.

“You took everything from me.” Wanda gritted out through clenched teeth as her eyes glowed with a wrath you had never seen in her before. Her hands stayed at her side, glowing brightly.

Thanos stared back at her unflinchingly, “I don’t even know who you are.”

The calm in Wanda’s voice sent chills down your spine. “You will.” A moment later you watched her begin to attack Thanos and it was clear that he didn’t stand a chance against her. He didn’t stand a chance against this powerful woman who’s heart he had played a role in destroying.

You knew you couldn’t call out to her because if you did her concentration would break and she would be put at risk of Thanos overtaking her. Instead you focused on defeating his members that were coming to his aide so he would have to face her on his own.

He was destined to lose at her hands.

It seemed Thanos was aware of that as well as he called for the larger of the flying ships to begin firing down into the field to get Wanda off of him.

“Wanda!” you shouted as you saw her attempt to shield herself from the attack, only to get thrown by the force of the hit. As quickly as you could you built a barrier around her and began running in her direction. Not caring that you were leaving yourself exposed to the blasts.

The distance between you two was hastily closed as you instantly dropped to your knees at her side, pulling her in your arms and checking her for any injury. She stared up at you like she was seeing a ghost. “Y/n?” You tenderly stroked her cheek as you nodded.

When she finally processed the sight of you in her arms, life filled her eyes again as they illuminated with affection. It didn’t matter to her that you both were in the middle of horrifying battle with an evil being. All that mattered was that you were there with her. The emptiness she had felt when she saw you fade vanished and was replaced with an inconceivable amount of love.

Wanda surged forward and clung desperately to you, a choked sob escaping her lips. “I thought I lost you.” she said shakily into your neck.

You clung to her just as desperately, tears of relief falling down your cheeks at the knowledge that she was safe and, in your arms, once again. “I thought I lost you.” Came your shaky response.

Just as Wanda was about to respond another blast hit the ground right next to you and sent you both flying. You managed to hang on tightly to Wanda and land under her to lessen the impact. “Are you okay?” she asked worriedly as she pushed your hair lightly out of your face.

“You know, under any other circumstances, I would have loved to be in this position.” You said cheekily.

Wanda let out a watery laugh at your response. “I’ve missed you.” She said before connecting your lips passionately. You wrapped your arms around her waist as you eagerly pulled her closer.

Wanda pulled away a moment later. “As much as I’d love to continue, we have a battle to win.” She stood up and offered you a hand which you gladly accepted.

“To be continued?” you teasingly replied with a wiggle of your eyebrow.

Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but laugh. Falling more in love with you than before if that was even possible. This. You. It was everything she needed for the rest of her life.

“To be continued.” She confirmed.

The playful look on your face fell when you realized something. “Why did they stop shooting at us?”

Wanda tilted her head, she hadn’t noticed that until you pointed it out. Both of your gazes turned skyward as a bright beam of light crashed through the largest ship that was in the sky. “I’m guessing it has to do with that.”

“Badass.” You whispered quietly to yourself as you watched.

Wanda smirked in amusement as she took your hand. Your gaze shifted to meet the emerald eyes you cherished. “I love you.” She said adoringly.

“I love you, too.” You replied without hesitation. You’d never hesitate to say those words to her again. “Now let’s go get rid of this giant purple monster, so we can have that happy ending I promised you.” Wanda bit her lip and nodded, melting at your words. That was all she wanted. To live happily with you.

Together you began running in the direction that the gauntlet appeared to be. Only letting go when you both had to use your hands for your powers.

“I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that.” You heard Peter tell the woman who you recognized to be Carol Danvers from Fury’s stories.

Both you and Wanda landed at her side a moment later, “Don’t worry.” Wanda began confidently.

“She’s got help.” You finished with determination. All the women on the team joined together and charged fearlessly forward into the battle. You and Wanda worked together on destroying the ships and creatures in the sky while some of the other women cleared a path on the ground for Carol to transfer the gauntlet to Scott’s van.

There was only a short distance between Carol and the van when you noticed Thanos throw his weapon aiming directly towards said van. You tried to run towards it to stop the impact, using your hand to try and summon the metal within the weapon. The problem was that you noticed it a moment too late. The spear like object had already impaled the machine. The force of the explosion threw you back into a large stone, your head taking the majority of the damage.

Wanda looked over worriedly from where she was keeping a group of at least two dozen creatures at bay. You gave her a thumb up to ease her worries. She seemed reluctant but turned back to getting rid of the creatures.

When you were able to focus on the scene in front of you, you saw Carol get launched into the large rock right beside you from the force of Thanos’ hit. Shortly after Thor and Steve appeared to attempt to stop him from snapping his fingers once again. Both being removed by Thanos despite their superhuman tolerance and strength.

When you saw Thanos approach Steve who was on the floor you jumped up protectively and flicked your wrist. His feet sunk into the ground, preventing him from getting any closer. You didn’t have superhuman tolerance or strength like Steve, but you’d be damned if you just sat there and watched Thanos attack him and then erase half of humanity again.

“Y/n, stay back.” You heard Steve grunt from his place on the ground.

Your action was enough to get Thanos’ attention as you began using your powers to manipulate the metal in his hand to stay open. Distracted by trying to keep his hand open, you didn’t notice him getting closer. Steve finally got up and raced over only to be a second too late. Forced to watch in horror as Thanos’ opposite hand that held the power stone hit you in the head at full force.

Wanda landed just in time to see you go through the large rock you had been leaning against just moments before. She screamed.

As she gathered you in her arms, she gently tried to coax you awake. Fear sinking into her heart when you didn’t even flinch. With shaking hands, she checked your pulse and was relieved to still feel your heartbeat thrum steadily beneath her fingertips.

Suddenly, everything around Wanda went quiet. When she lifted her head, she was relieved to see Thanos’ army fading to dust around her. She tenderly pulled you closer to her body. Tears brimming at her eyes. “We won, Y/n.” she said shakily. “We won. We can finally have our life together. Our happy ending. Please, wake up. Please.” She begged quietly.

The only comfort she found was the way your breath softly fanned across her cheek and the way she could feel your heartbeat steadily against her own. Tears fell down her cheeks, but she refused to let you go.

When Steve placed a cautious hand on her shoulder, she jumped. “We have to get her to a hospital.” He said meekly, his eyes troubled as tears fell from his eyes as well.

Grudgingly she let him pick you up and load you on the waiting jet, blind to anything going on around her. When Steve said he’d meet her there later she barely heard him as she took your hand in hers, pressing her lips firmly to the back. Shortly after feeling the jet rise in the air and begin the short trip to S.H.I.E.L.D’s facility where their top medics were waiting to tend to you.

“I’ll take care of you. We’ll have a happy ending.” Wanda gently stroked your cheek, smiling slightly at the warmth that she still found on your skin. A moment later tears began falling as she rested her head against your hand. “I don’t want to be here if I can’t be with you.” She whispered despairingly, hoping that you’d squeeze her hand, or open your eyes, anything. You were all she wanted, all she had. She couldn’t lose you. She wouldn’t recover.

Part 12! Can you believe it? I’m honestly shocked we’re already on part 12. Only one part left though. What do you all think is going to happen in the last chapter? Annnyway, as always, hope you each enjoyed reading this part. Thought and comments welcome, seeing them makes my day :)

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imomomi · 3 years

Note

do you write for sukuna? and are you still taking little requests? i just need my heart broken by that man, so if you could write anything of the sort i’d be in your debt 4 forever

“Yuji?” a voice called. Sukuna shifted from his position. Something about it felt familiar and anything that would cure his boredom was a welcome relief. He hated the dull silences, the inane small talk of teenagers. The moment he was out of this vessel, he would rip this school apart.

“Oh, Y/N—”

The face that stared back was a familiar one, one that Sukuna would never quiet forget. He was reminded instantly of the clever sorcerer who’d thought to erect a shrine in his honor somewhere in the Gifu prefect—a test not only of his mercy but the Emperor’s. The girl without a clan name to back her, with a cursed technique that was easily forgotten, but she fought as if she was already dead.

Maybe it’s the sudden surge of eagerness to scare her that temporarily let him escape from his prison. The reaction he received was a startling coldness, neither surprised nor frightened. He wanted something more than the corpse like girl before him. Where was the fire that once lit her gaze? And why—why—why—did her insolence taste bitter in this stranger’s body?

“Sukuna-san.”

He smirked, tilting her chin up. “Polite as ever, brat. Though I remember your tong—”

He was sent back immediately, and Yuji winced, clutching his head, and uttered an apology. Neither him nor Y/N mention Sukuna’s words.

The next time he saw her, the other boy was there. It was odd to see the woman, who once cursed the three big clans as readily as she cursed him, sit with the Zenin boy as if they are old friends.

The whispers of words he caught from Yuji—he was still Sukuna and much as they share the same body, it was only his sight that he had and none of his memories—tell him that she was older than the three.

Not as young as the green-haired failure.

And not quite as old as the white-hair rat from the Gojo clan.

Her face he realized mirrored the pain he saw on the Zenin boy’s—a knowledge that Yuji would die one day. He wonders if her terror would be as sweet as Megumi’s was--if she would fight him just as readily to save his stolen body. He could cut her down easily, quicker than she could blink.

The way she laughed was stilted.

The sound was artificial, as if she was trying hard to play at human.

He laughed and it echoed around Yuji’s head, quieting him instantly. When she looked at Yuji, he took his chance and pulled her in.

His domain had not changed in a thousand years and he wondered if she held the same memories he did. Water seeped into her pants and clung to her ankles. Down beneath his throne of bones, she looked smaller than he imagined.

“Y/N,” his voiced echoed and brushed against her like a warm wind. “I wonder how a pathetic to thing like you can dare to sh—”

“Have you brought me here for a reason?”

He’s behind her, hand cupping the back of her neck as he tilts her head to look at him. “Do you truly not remember?”

“Remember what?” she parroted back, but there’s a sharpness to her eyes that has him laughing. A kind of arrogance that lingered in the lines of her face—had it be anyone but her, he might have killed them.

“Come on, Y/N. It’s not like you to lie,” he said.

Something in her gaze shifted. “And it’s not like you to be at the mercy of a mere boy.”

A thousand years ago, Y/N was born into a nameless family in the depths of the Gifu Prison to a world that was constantly at war. Her parents were poor peasant farmers, kind and sweet, but without the means to support her cleverness. A stray sorcerer took her in, finding use in her innate ability to sense curses and she thrived in a world where the barriers of her low birth held no importance.

She knew what she was doing in grabbing the attention of the King of Curses—but Y/N, who promised that she would never look back the day she left the village she grew up in, could not know how deeply he would entrench himself in her.

Push and pull, like two planets circling the same sun.

She had loved him because he burned brighter than any fire. Because she knew without question that if she was by his side, she would die only by his hand.

She wasn’t stupid enough to believe he loved her back.

He touched her as if he did. Kissed her as if she was the sweetest thing he’d tasted.

Once he’d come back from Kyoto with long wraps of silk. The fabric so richly colored that Y/N had been afraid to touch it let alone wear it.

“You think someone would question you?” he asked, lounging on a pile of pillows as if they should be honored to be holding him. “Wear them. I won’t have you sullying my name by showing up in rags.”

“Aren’t you kind?” she sneered.

“Am I? I had no intention of being kind.”

Life with him was a constant fight and he took—took—took until she had nothing left to give. Y/N lived and died a lifetime for Ryōmen Sukuna and she promised herself never again.

Cursed Technique—Rebirth. He laughed when she first explained it. In the thousand years he’d been gone, she had lived and died in a constant cycle. Never forgetting, never stopping to look back at the past she’d left behind.

Perhaps in those thousand years, she had learned a way out of his domain, but she made no move to break free. His voice pressed against her, soft and low, and gloating. Her face twisted with a look that he recognized because she had saved it for him alone.

Foolish girl.

She still hadn’t learned.

A/N: I know it’s not exactly what you asked, but this was all I could think up.

#sukuna x oc #sukuna x reader #jjk reader insert #jjk x y/n #sukuna #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk #ask #jujutsu kaisen

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

From All Sides (P.8)

Title: From All Sides (Part Eight) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Pirate Tony. Tony is obsessed with a certain barmaid at port and showers her with gifts to try to bring her to his bed. She is resistant to his advances, her eyes elsewhere, specifically on her coworker, the cook. Although, that love is unrequited and always will be. The reader is forced into close quarters with Tony unexpectedly and sailing the sea, she slowly bends to his will. And he plans to give her all the affection he can to make sure she stays. Words: 2,480 Warnings (for the whole fic): Eventual smut, violence, angst, possessive behavior Warnings for this chapter: Heavy violence!

Part Seven || Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony jolted back, stepping out of the way of one of Ivan’s fists. He took advantage of Ivan being so close and landed a punch at the center of Ivan’s ribs. Ivan choked, the air knocked out of his lungs, losing his balance a little. Tony did not miss that and kicked at his calf. Ivan stumbled even more but found balance again. Tony backed off.

His hair clung to his forehead, sweat covering him. It glistened on his bare chest.

Again, Tony tagged Ivan up, landing a handful of strikes. But Ivan got his in and sent Tony into the wall. Pissed, Tony grimaced as he turned around quick just as Ivan was on him. Ducking out of the way, Tony blocked Ivan’s incoming kick and got another punch in. In the same spot he had hit before on his ribs and Ivan grunted. Tony had done that on purpose, hoping to crack Ivan’s ribs and it seemed he had.

Having the upper hand for even a moment, Tony used it to his advantage to sweep a kick and Ivan tumbled backwards. Tony was on him in a moment, laying punch after punch. Ivan held up his hands trying to block Tony but Tony’s fist collided with Ivan’s jaw, sending him sprawling, face to the ground. He was out cold.

The crowd around the pen erupted louder now. Tony stood up, straight, his breath loud and short as his heart pounded in his ears. He brought a hand up to his cheek, feeling the cut there that Ivan had given him early on and his ear hurt where Ivan had boxed him.

Tony backed off completely now so Ivan’s men could come collect him. He turned to the exit of the pen, eyes searching for Steve and the men he had brought with him. They were waiting and Steve intercepted him and told him that he needed to bandage up his hands. Tony looked down, seeing that yes, his knuckles were bloody.

But he had won. Now all he needed was a quick bath before returning to the ship.

<><><>

You were outrunning the crew, weaving in and out around people on the docks, heading further into the cavern’s expansive layout. You were not sure where you were going but you just kept running, tossing looks over your shoulder.

When you caught sight of Bucky closing in, you pumped your legs harder.

It was all for naught because the man had ridiculous speed. Your heart clenched as you heard his pounding footfalls right behind you and in that moment you knew you were going to be caught.

Bucky tackled you to the ground, slapping the gun away from you, sending it flying across the floor. He planted a knee directly into your chest, holding you fast against the ground. You tried to stab at him clumsily with the knife, but he gripped your wrist painfully with his metal arm. You cried out as he tightened his grip to cause your hand to go limp. He yanked the knife away with his free hand. You slapped helplessly at his thigh; he was crushing your ribs. You gasped for air, hands grasping his knee, trying to shove it off.

“Give me that rope!” Bucky barked at one of the other pirates that had caught up by now.

Tossing the knife aside as well, Bucky easily caught your forearms, pulling them up towards him. He held your arms close together before him.

“Tie her up!”

The other pirate did as you watched helplessly, wincing at the bone crushing grip Bucky had on your forearms. The extra rope was long hanging off your wrists and you were stuck tight.

Snapping his fingers, Bucky pointed at his gun. “Give me that!”

Your vigor was renewed, and you started kicking your legs, trying to bring at least one up to knee him in the ass. Bucky’s jaw was set, glowering at you. The man brought him the gun and Bucky pointed the gun at you and your mouth fell open, going limp immediately thinking he was going to shoot you. But he pointed the gun to the side and shot at the ground away from the pair of you.

“Stop making this more difficult than it needs to be, Y/N!”

In shock and your ears ringing, you blinked. Bucky holstered his gun again and stood up quickly before swooping down, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as if you were a bag of flour. How strong was this man to handle you like this?

“I told you that you were making a huge mistake!” Bucky said to you, his grip tight on you as he turned and began to stomp out of the room. “There was no way you were going to get away from me.”

Shock clearing, you squirmed in his arms, and he only held tighter. You used your tied hands to beat at his back and he only chuckled, which made you even more upset.

“Hit me all you want, dear. You’re not getting away from me again. I won’t disappoint Tony twice today.”

<><><>

“Where the hell is everyone?” Tony demanded as he approached Sam, who was standing next to the ramp, eyes searching the port. He immediately noticed that even more of the crew was missing than the small handful he had taken with him and Steve. Sam looked far too disappointed to see Tony which made him even more suspicious.

Sam sighed and said curtly, “They went ashore.”

Tony stepped closer, staring Sam down who to his credit was keeping eye contact with his captain. “Why do I feel like there’s something else you need to tell me?”

“They’re looking for Y/N. She left the ship.”

Tony was quiet, eyes wild. The silence scared Sam even more than if Tony had immediately burst. Still, the inevitable explosion caused Sam to flinch.

“Pray tell me how she managed to evade an entire fucking crew!” Tony barked. “I trust you! Or I should be able to trust you to follow my orders! And you cannot even manage one woman?”

“She had a knife. I don’t know where she got it. She tried to just walk off, but Bucky stopped her and she got the jump on him. Knife directly to his throat.”

“Then yank it away from her! Like Bucky couldn’t have overpowered her? Jesus Christ!” Tony hollered. “He’s gotten out of tighter situations before!”

“Well, she demanded his gun and he gave it to her and she used that to get off the ship by pointing it,” Sam went on and that information made Tony even more furious if it was possible. Sam quickly added in Bucky’s defense, “I don’t think he wanted to injure her for fear of angering you.”

“Letting her off the ship is angering me more! I thought that would have been clear but apparently no one thinks on this vessel! And who in the hell was supposed to be watching my quarters in the first place? Oh, right, Alexei. Where the hell is that prick?”

“Passed out. Nose was deep in a bottle,” Sam answered stoically. “Found him afterwards.”

Tony’s face was red, veins taut in his neck, as he tried to not scream. He shook his head furiously, taking a step back, head turning towards the dock. He wiped at his mouth, taking a deep breath.

“Bucky’s got her,” Steve announced from the railing, his head turned away from port to look at them onboard.

Tony stormed over to the railing, seeing indeed Bucky had her swung over his shoulder. To Sam, he snapped, “Where is Alexei?” Sam told him and Tony ordered, “Do not let Bucky put her back in the cabin. I want her to see this.”

Finding Alexei below deck, Tony gripped the hammock and upended Alexei unceremoniously. He circled around the hammock, eyes pinned in a rage at his crewman trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Tony did not give him much time to figure it out before he swung his fist down, clocking Alexei on the cheek, knocking him to the ground.

“What—” was all Alexei got out, pained before Tony hit him again.

Grasping the back of his hair, Tony tore his top half away from the ground, Alexei’s back bent back painfully in the process. Alexei’s eyes were unclear, a mixture of the drink and the fact Tony had just knocked his brain about twice in quick succession.

“I gave you a direct order to stay outside my cabin and make sure that Y/N did not leave!” Tony bellowed. “And what did you do? Go get yourself drunk and let her escape! And she ended up causing a lot of people grief in the process! You fucked up big time, Alexei!”

Tony let go of his hair and planted a series of hard kicks into Alexei’s side and stomach when he tried to roll away to protect his side. Alexei vomited from the last kick, clutching his stomach in pain. Tony was not satisfied yet, not even close.

Dragging him up the stairs and up on deck, the crew parted for him. Tony tossed him onto the deck, drawing a pained moan from Alexei. Y/N was staring at him in a mixture of disgust and horror beside Bucky, who was holding tight to the end of the rope around her wrists.

Alexei sputtered blood, his hands shaking as he tried to plant them on the deck to push himself back up. He only got up a few inches before Tony sent a rough kick to his backside, sending him sprawling again.

“I did not tell you to get up,” Tony snarled rabidly.

His eyes went around the circle of his crew, chest heaving. His knuckles were stinging, this being the second time he beat a man into submission today.

“This sorry sack of shit was supposed to be outside my cabin to make sure my lass did not leave. How hilarious I come back and find he had not done what I asked and instead found himself at the bottom of a bottle. What happens when someone disobeys a direct order from me?” Tony shouted out at his crew. “We know the answer to that, don’t we?”

Alexei blubbered, trying to ask for forgiveness for only a few moments, drawing Tony’s attention. His lip curled in disgust, and he sneered, “At least have some dignity, you scurvy dog.”

In a fluid motion, Tony unholstered his gun, aiming it directly at the back of Alexei’s head. He cocked it and the gunshot echoed.

As the smoke cleared from the shot, Tony holstered his gun again. Turning to Y/N, he pinned her with a glare. He stalked towards her, the crew silent as the tension between the two of them could be cut with a knife. She was cornered, her eyes full of fright. He was sure this was the first time he had ever evoked that in her and he found sick pleasure he had put it there.

“At least, that rule applies to the crew. My men. You on the other hand, no, I’ve got something else planned to teach you a lesson,” Tony seethed, staring deep into her impossibly wide eyes. “When I said do not leave my cabin, I fucking meant it. And since you can’t seem to follow directions, looks like I’m going to have to enforce it myself until you can learn to behave!”

To Bucky, he snapped, “I’ll deal with you later!”

Tony jerked her away from Bucky, feeling her stumble behind him as he stormed off. She was struggling to keep up with him. The crew parted again as he made their way back to his cabin. When they reached it, he pulled her beside him, throwing his door open. He shoved her inside in front of him and closed the door behind him.

“Tony—”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

Dragging her to the bed, he snapped his finger at the floor and instructed gruffly, “Get on your knees.”

She looked indignant suddenly at the command, “I will not!”

Rolling his eyes, his patience growing ever thinner with her troublesome attitude, he gave a swift, light kick at the back of her knees, causing her to buckle. She tried to catch herself, but he was already using the momentum to shove her down to her knees next to his bed.

“Stop it!” she begged.

Tony snorted, “You must be mad if you think I am going to do that.”

She tried to crawl away when he gave lax on the rope, and he punished her with a yank. She hissed against the burn on her wrists. He gave another rough yank to bring her even closer to the bed, and she winced as her knees drug against the hardwood.

Looping the rope around the bedframe, he began to tie it expertly. Her eyes widened, realizing what he was doing.

“Tony, please don’t!” she pleaded as he tied it taut. She yanked helplessly against it, stuck against the built-in bed. She sniffled, tears forming. There was no way she was going to escape that without help. She gave another hard pull and whimpered audibly at the rope rubbing at her wrists.

Tony grasped her chin and demanded, “Stop it right now! You’ll rub your wrists raw!”

“Then untie me!” she said, trying to escape his grasp but he only held tighter, fingers digging into her jawline.

“You can earn your way back up onto the bed and out of those ropes with good behavior!” Tony let go of her roughly and she sunk further onto the floor.

Tears that had been collecting tumbled over now, fat down her cheeks. Tony was unmoved in his anger; he could not let her get away with disregarding his orders. He would break her down, make her obedient. And if that meant doing this the hard way and having her either hate or be afraid of him, then so be it. That was better than not having her at all.

Coldly, he told her, “Cry all you want. I told you what you need to do to get back in my good graces. It’s up to you, love. You know damn well how patient I can be. Just give me what I want and you can be comfortable. Those are the rules.”

With that, he turned away from her and grabbed fresh bandages off his table. He would get a crew member to re-wrap his hands for him since Y/N was disposed at the moment. He tossed her another glance, and she was watching him apprehensively, sniffling. He looked away, gritting his teeth before leaving the cabin, slamming the door behind him, having confidence this time that Y/N would not go missing if he left her alone.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

#tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark #dark!tony stark x reader #dark marvel #my shit

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morimakesfanart · 3 years

Text

Sindria's Prophet #11

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

[AO3]

*edited so the images are better

"... At least until we can get you to your room. You need to wake up before they ring the bell."

'What's goin' on..?' Why was my shoulder shaking?

"Is Mori okay?”

The sound of my nickname snapped me into consciousness. I pushed myself up and hummed in question. When I opened my eyes it took me a moment to adjust to the bright light. Everyone was standing in front of a gate.

"Did you sleep well?"

Why did this world have three suns? Wait. Two were Sinbad's eyes. That checks out.

I nodded with another hum. I wasn't able to form words yet, and even if I could I would have lost access from waking up to such a beautiful sight.

I missed his response since I was still half asleep, but I did hear Ja'far repeating his words from earlier.

"Please, try to stay awake for a little while. When we step through, they will ring the bell to announce Sin's arrival home. We didn't want you waking up from the shock."

I had to repeat his words in my mind to hold onto them.

"Oh. Thank you for waking me."

Even with their best efforts I didn't have enough time to get clear headed before the bell was rang to announce the return of the King. I ended up jolting anyway.

I was glad to still be on Aladdin's flying turban. I couldn't focus if my life depended on it. I had some energy since I had just been resting and I was still mostly numb from sleep so my aches and pains weren't affecting me yet. After being sick for so long, I was in serious need of serotonin, so I couldn't shake the waves of excitement building in me as I realized I really was in Sinbad's Palace. It's one thing to read about something and another to actually experience it. I knew I had said I would see a doctor as soon as I arrived, but I couldn't stop myself from going into full geek mode and just wanting to look around.

In other words, I was a weak, energetic, space cadet without a filter -prime condition to make an idiot and/or nuisance of myself- if I couldn't find something to force me to "sober" up and start masking.

---

~POV Sin~

Horns announced the King's return to his Palace as the group walked through its gate. Many of the guards and civil servants present gave their welcome. The looks of awe on his guests' faces as they walked through the entrance to the court yard boosted Sinbad's already large ego.

Alibaba's and Aladdin's excitement had started to wane after walking so long, but Mori had the same look she wore when she first got on the ship. Now that Sinbad had seen her like that before, he knew better than to try to engage her in something she wasn't already thinking about. It was a lot like dealing with Yamuraiha after the magicians made a breakthrough. But that didn't mean he wouldn't still try to tease her if he had the opportunity; he'd just have to try a different method.

It was a bit of a relief to see Mori so energetic after the previous night. He would still have the doctors sent to her asap though.

Given how important his guests were, Sinbad decided to escort them, himself, to the Green Sagittarius Tower. Placing the 3 kids in the guest tower was a given since they hadn't agreed to any partnerships yet. The Purple Leo Tower was where Sinbad and his most trusted lived; as much as he wanted to move Mori in there with them immediately, Sinbad knew it would be better to wait until the others learned to trust her, so his Prophet was going to have to stay in the Green Sagittarius Tower for now. This would also give them more time to prepare her permanent room.

Ja'far raised his voice slightly to get all of the guests' attention as he explained a little about the Tower. Masrur took his cue to leave. The Fanalis raised his hand in a half hearted wave as he turned away from the group and started to walk away. The King watched one General leave as he heard the other lead his guests into the Tower.

It was his time to head off too. The rest of his Generals that had been left at home would be showing up to greet him -there was a lot to catch up on. As Sinbad had started to leave, the waves encouraged him to look back at the guest tower. Mori was standing watching him instead of following Ja'far. She had her bag in her arms instead of on her back.

"Is something wrong?"

"I know I should go rest and wait for a doctor, but," she looked at him with an odd expression -like she was seeing through him, "the waves keep pointing me that way." She pointed at the direction he was going.

She was right. The waves would have her follow him

instead of Ja'far.

"It's Drakon!" Mori gasped and her eyes grew. She gave a small laugh to herself. "The first Household Member is the first to show up."

Sure enough, the only member of Sinbad's Household that had fully assimilated with his Djinn's power had entered the court yard.

If she had this much energy and the waves wanted her out here then it should be fine. "Would you like to meet him now?"

Mori looked up at him shocked and expectant. "Is that okay???” It was like he was the center of her world in that moment.

"As long as you feel up to it." This was a good feeling.

She squeezed her bag in her arms. Mori seemed to become like a clingy child when she was unwell. If he had told her to go rest would she have begged him to stay and clung to him like she had before?

Her eyes grew determined. "I will have energy for about an hour. I'll go rest when I start to wear out, and I will ask for help if I need it -you don't have to remind me." Was she this direct because she was sick?

Drakon's deep voice came from behind Sinbad. "Welcome home, my friend."

The King turned to face his General. "It's good to be back."

"How did things end in Balbadd? When we heard about you loosing your metal vessels we got a little worried but it looks like you got them back." He laughed at the end. Drakon knew better than most that his King always manages to come out on top no matter what happens to him. He stiffened slightly. "Hmm? Who's this?” The General noticed Mori before Sinbad had a chance to answer his other questions.

Time for introductions then. "Drakon, this is Mori. She's the prophet I told Yam about." The King gestured towards her.

Mori put her bag down and when she stood up she had full composure. She offered a hand to the General. "It's an honor to meet you, Drakon. I read all about you when I read Fate." If Sinbad didn't know any better he would have no idea Mori had nearly died of fever only a few hours ago -she only looked tired. She was much better at acting than he expected. How long could she hide it though?

Drakon looked more dragon than man now making most uneasy around him, yet Mori didn't seem scared of him at all. Was it because she was hiding it or because she had read Fate? Actually, there was a strange glint in her eyes he couldn't place.

"Oh?” Drakon took her up on the handshake she offered. It was rare for someone not to flinch upon seeing him for the first time; Mori was definitely making a good first impression. "I must admit that I'm curious about this ability of yours."

The glint in Mori's eye grew into a full sparkle.

Their handshake didn't sit right with King Sinbad.

When their hands released, Mori put her hands in her pockets like she often did.

"Would you like an example?" Her smile didn't give anything away. "Before you were shipped out to Baal's Dungeon you tried to be noble and charming to Serendine but she responded by talking about how you followed her around 'like a baby duck' when you were little. Then she made you promise not to die." The waves were building around Mori again.

Serendine must have really said that. Drakon might not look human anymore, but Sinbad could still read his friend's expressions plain as day. Drakon was shocked by the first thing she said, and she was only just starting. Mori really was amazing.

"I know! Let me show you what I've got copied down so far" Mori squat down to her bag. She pulled out and opened a scroll, "Yeah. This one." She stood up with the scroll in hand and swayed a bit on the way up -she couldn't hide her condition fully.

Mori stepped between the King and his General, and turned so they were all facing the same direction. She raised the scroll so it would be easier to see. "Honestly, I had some other things to write down before I could start copying down Fate. I didn't start this until getting onto the ship, so please excuse the sloppiness."

Mori's handwriting looked rushed, like she couldn't get all of this out fast enough. Sinbad had barely gotten to start reading before she continued unrolling to reveal a detailed illustration of a family of three.

"That's-!" It was Sinbad and his parents when he was little.

Drakon glanced at his King, "Sin, are those people your parents?"

"Yup." Mori responded without looking up. "He looks a lot like Badrr, doesn't he?"

Back in Balbadd, Mori had said that she had read his life from his birth to his death, but it was different seeing undeniable proof.

She scrolled past more text and past another illustration and didn't stop until she got to a drawing of child Drakon following Serendine just like she had described. Mori continued scrolling through her work, and each image brought on more comments. There was an illustration of Sinbad meeting Yunan which she gratefully skipped past, a few of inside Baal and one from when Sinbad killed the Abare Narwhal in place of-

"Is this one of me? I look so young!!" The Imuchakk towered over all of them.

Mori whipped her head up. "Hinahoho?!" She wobbled from her quick movement. Sinbad placed a hand at her back to steady her; Mori didn't even react to his hand, instead she put all of her weight on it so she could stare up at the man behind them for a moment. That excited smile spread across her face. "Hello! It's nice to meet you. Please call me Mori."

Sinbad had purposefully gestured for Hina to stay quiet when he came up behind them so as not to distract Mori, but this was fine too.

"So this is where you went!" Ja'far came back from getting the three kids settled into their room.

Mori's smile was unwavering as she stood back on her own, unrolled the scroll to the next image and flipped it around for Ja'far to see. "We just got to your entrance. Care to join us?"

"Lady Prophet, I know you slept on your way here, but you were barely able to get off the ship before you had to lay down. Did you forget you're sick??"

Both Generals that had been looking at the scroll murmured questions about Mori's condition while the Prophet said nothing. At least Ja'far's words would have explained who Mori was for Hinahoho.

Ja'far's eyes wandered to the scroll in Mori's hands; his shoulders jolted when he realized what he was looking at. "Is that me??” He stepped closer to get a better look. After studying the image he looked up at the person holding it. "Did you make this?"

"Yes and yes."

The Prophet and the youngest General present watched each other for an opening.

Mori broke their silence. "I will go rest when I finish showing this scroll. We are almost done anyway."

Ja'far sighed. "Fine." He walked up next to Sinbad to join the group. Even if he tried to deny it, he couldn't fully hide his interest. "What is this scroll you've made?"

Mori turned

the scroll back around so the rest were able to see an image of when Ja'far attacked Sinbad in his sleep back when he was still an assassin. "Since I'm Sindria's Prophet now, I am copying down Fate so it will be easier to keep in order than thinking about it. This is just a draft though. After I have everything written down I'll go back and make it better."

That explanation was perfectly timed as two more Generals had join the group from behind -not that Mori seemed to notice.

Next was an image of Hina in a cave being surrounded by insects.

"Hold on. I never told anyone about that."

Mori stopped scrolling at Hinahoho's comment.

"What is this?" Sinbad asked his General.

But it was Mori who answered. "When Hinahoho first entered Valefor's Dungeon he was swarmed by Blooderflies."

"'Blooderflies?'" All six repeated back at her.

"Butterflies that drink blood," she explained confidently. When none of them responded she tensed. Sinbad could see her turn a little pink as she said to herself, "I thought it was a clever name."

"I think it's hilarious!" Pisiti said before breaking into giggles.

Mori jolted, "It's Pisti this time!" and started to look around for the source of the voice. She spotted the Artemyran that was shorter than herself and the man standing behind her. "And Sharkkan!”

Sinbad could see Yamuraiha and Spartos in the distance. As soon as they were all introduced he'd have Mori head to bed -end of the scroll or not; the waves from earlier would be reaching their peak soon and she had almost fell over twice already. Of course, he wouldn't mind catching her again, but he didn't want her pushing herself in her current condition.

The cocky prince had his hands on his hips. "Are you really a Prophet or our biggest fan?"

"Maybe I'm both," Mori answered with a smile. Her face was a little red.

Was she flirting with Sharkkan??

"That so?" Sharkkan smirked and leaned between Drakon and Hinahoho to get a closer look at her. "When they said there was a real prophet I was expecting some old hag, not a cutie like you."

Mori's eyes dilated and she gave a small gasp. Seeing Mori get embarrassed from compliments was something that Sinbad normally enjoyed, but this time it put a bad taste in his mouth. And did Sharkkan have to get so close to her?

Mori clearly agreed since she attempted to step away from the flirtiest of the Eight Generals. She must have forgotten about her own bag though, as she tripped over it and fell backwards right into Sinbad's arms.

Mori didn't try to stand back up at all. She looked up at the King and after a moment she hid her face behind the scroll she was holding. ”I-I am not a klutz!”

"Oh?" Sinbad smiled down at her. This was much better. "Then did you intentionally fall-”

Mori clapped a hand over his mouth. "No! Shut up! I blame you for this!” She pulled the scroll into her chest, but it unrolled anyway. She was doing a poor job of hiding her enjoyment of his teasing.

He laughed into her hand and she went quiet. Her blush started traveling down her neck since her face couldn't contain it all. This was a much stronger reaction than he normally got from her. He was clearly the only one that could pull such cute expressions out of Mori. Sinbad kissed the palm hiding his lips, and when she pulled it back to herself with an "Ah!" he knew he had to tease her more.

"Are you saying you're really swooning for me then, my Beautiful Prophet?"

"I-!" Mori couldn't bring herself to deny it and pulled the scroll back up to her face. She still wasn't trying to stand on her own or leave his arms.

"That's a good atmosphere."

*Whistles*

"You don't think ...?"

"OH MY-!"

See? No one could seduce a woman better than he could.

Mori finally found her rebuttal. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to be surrounded by your waves near constantly??"

He hadn't thought about that. Mori's waves were constantly opening new paths for Fate to flow. They have felt advantageous and that they would help him reach his goals. He wanted to keep her close to see what other changes she would make. And of course he had felt that she was going to live out the rest of her life in Sindria. But what did his waves feel like to her?

She looked up at him as angry as she was embarrassed. "I only slipped on the ramp and just now, and-and fell off of the bowsprit last night, because your waves crashed into me!”

That caught him off guard. "You knew it was me last night?"

"YES!" Mori's voice cracked at the end; she was still recovering so all this talking must have been wearing her out. "You're the only one who's waves feel like this." She broke eye as she got to the end.

Mori could identify him from his waves? There were certain people who's waves stood out to him as well -like hers-, but Sinbad was still not used to anyone else being able to feel the waves. This meant that he had kept quiet for nothing. It also meant that Mori had clung to him knowing who he was -maybe she wouldn't have accepted comfort from just anyone.

Her voice was almost inaudible. "When I realized it was you I was relieved. I've gotten hurt in the past when I was sick because I was alone so, ... thank you for taking care of me."

Just like when he had first learned that Mori could feels the waves, he was happy he was already holding her. He wanted to pull her closer like he had last time as well.

Yam let out a gasp while landing.

"WAIT!" Ja'far had been about to cut in to stop their antics anyway, but this was a completely different issue. "Mori, can you feel the waves of Fate like Sin??"

The King and the Prophet both stared at Ja'far for a few moments before answering in unison, "Yes."

((Hey everybody. Pretty sure you can guess why this chapter took so long. I just really wanted to draw so much of this chapter in comic form UwU Also, a bunch of life things got in the way. Now that everything is opening back up I can't work from home anymore. I'm very sensitive to the heat so I have to rest and cool down after each drive which really cuts into the time I have each day. -_-

Ja'far stared in disbelief at his King. "Sin, you knew?? Are you sure?"

With the mood completely ruined Sinbad helped Mori stand up properly. She grabbed his sleeve to keep herself steady and he left his arm around her waist just in case.

All of Sinbad's Generals -sans Masrur who had already left- were watching him. Mori had many abilities that made her extremely valuable, but they also made her a prime target to any of their enemies. The more her value is known the bigger the target on her will be, and Mori wasn't a fighter. Sinbad had already told all of them that Mori was a Prophet since she had already made that skill known to others, and it was something he wanted to use -there was no way he could hide it. His Generals had kept the fact that he could feel the waves a secret this whole time, so they would be able to keep her secret as well.

"Mori can definitely feel the waves of Fate. But you should know it is different from her ability as a prophet." He figured he should clear that up before they asked. Sinbad didn't know how they were different, but he had enough information to know they were.

Mori's voice was a little horse and on the weak side. "Since King Sinbad and Ja'far eavesdropped on my conversation with Aladdin there's no reason to hide it."

The King and his partner in crime froze. SHE KNEW HE HAD SPIED ON HER. Did his waves give him away?

Mori continued, "I can only read the Fates of realities that I am not currently in. It's not the same as different planets; It's a different universe with different rules." She rolled up the scroll while explaining. "The one I came from doesn't have Rukh, magoi, magic, or Djinn, but we did have 1500 to 2000 more years of scientific development compared to this world-" She was cut off by a short coughing fit.

Sinbad looked down at Mori. She was getting worse by the second. It was most likely fever and not embarrassment making her cheeks red in this moment. "It seems I've pushed you too hard while you are still recovering. My apologies." It was time to send the prophet to bed. He pulled at her waist lightly. "Let's get you to your room so you can rest."

Mori shook her head. "I have one more thing I want to say first."

"Fine." If it wasn't for the look in her eyes he would have refused her.

Mori's voice was getting worse so she had to take breaks in her speech. "I don't know what caused me to slip from my reality into this one, but I'm here now ... I fully intend to use my knowledge to help this world... But since I can't read this world's Fates anymore, I don't know how my changes will affect things..." She gripped the scroll like a life line. "As much as I'd like to answer the questions you all must have now... my voice is really starting to hurt, so I'd like to go rest."

Sinbad sighed. "Of course." It was a tough note to leave on, but her health came first. They'd have plenty of time to talk once she was better.

On a side note, I will be drawing Storpas (lol) in the next chapter. Don't worry, I didn't forget him.

It will probably be another 2 weeks or so before I finish the next chapter since I have less time to work on it now.))

#sindria's prophet #magi prophet fanfic #king sinbad #sinbad magi #magi sinbad #magi fanart #magi fanfiction #sinbad x oc #sinbadxoc #magi fan comic

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agent-cupcake · 3 years

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fluff is good, it’s even fun sometimes. but, you know, i think i’ll always enjoy dark content the most. like, no matter how much i insist i have moved past it, my entire career began because i learned the term yandere and realized i’d found my place in the online sphere. but, really, lust and fear have a complimentary relationship. the emotions and sensations they invoke, both physically and mentally, are equally potent and stem from the same place for me. the fluttery sensation in my stomach dances indiscriminately to the tune of disquiet and arousal, excitement stirs itself up within my chest at the mention of being wanted, uncaring if the intent is sadistic or lustful. its a shared theatrical fantasy of fear, catching thrills from simulated danger as we imagine what it is to be in a situation so dire, so intense and frightening, that we cannot help but to hyperfocus on our discomfort. we practice these emotions and engage in these disastrously unhealthy relationships through emulation and the sanitized vessel of the written word, but without any of the emotional price that would be asked of us if it were real.

it’s not real.

there is nobody lurking behind your window in the gaps between the streetlamps, even if you were to turn off the lights in an attempt to get a better view, but maybe you shouldn’t anyway. there is no face to breathe fog and leave smudged fingerprints on the glass pane while they peer into the internal life you hold sacred, but you should probably keep your blinds shut. there is nobody hiding behind your shower curtain as you stumble half-blind and asleep into the bathroom at two in the morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. if you hear a sound, surely you cannot logically attribute it to a malevolent person moving unseen through the secure sanctuary of your home when they assumed you would be in bed, but you should probably take a look at your locks. if you notice that your things are not where you left them, it’s silly to assume that someone has been into your room, rifling through your things and leaving them almost as you left them. to believe that somebody genuinely and truly meant you harm in such a personal way would be to risk the foundational safety that you rely on to live with any measure of peace. and besides, memories are fallible. our senses are imperfect. our overexcited and imaginative minds can betray us. you can be infected by a nightmare you can’t quite remember, only that you woke up shaky and gasping and frightened, squinting in the darkness to make out the figure standing at the foot of your bed that you could have sworn was just there only to be reassured that it was just a bad dream. you can hurry home because you felt certain you were being watched only for the sensation to be ultimately attributed to your own paranoia. yes, the world is dangerous. but maybe not your world. these things, these dramatic scenes cut straight from an episode of the hundreds of crime dramas, don’t happen to people like you.

but

we fantasize about yanderes and dark personalities and the brutal psychological and bodily torture any character of our choice could subject us to, we imagine the most grim of situations in a light that appeals to our own desires, twisting horror to suit us in a controlled manner.

still, it is frightening, isn’t it?

it’s past midnight, maybe one or two in the morning, and you’re sitting within the four walls of your room that you no longer believe to be protection enough from the stalker that has been creeping closer and closer. you’re staring at the familiar surroundings that suddenly feel very alien and contend with the bone crushing frenzy of utter stillness in the face of animal panic, the intense crackling and wavering that you can almost see hovering above your skin and holding up little strands of hair as chills crawl in bug-like hoards across the feverish flush of your flesh. all at once you are overwhelmed and helpless against him as he invades, defiles, and dismantles each aspect of your life. there is nothing you can do, no protection from this stylized predator who who has been perfected by fantasy made real so that he no longer resembles any common stalker. in the dark, you are vulnerable. in this situation, you are isolated. shame fills your chest, sloshing around to the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat, embarrassment at the ridiculousness of your reaction. really, what are a few messages? maybe you’re misinterpreting the signs, there’s not enough evidence to prove anything. you have to use the bathroom, yet you don’t feel safe to enter the dark hallway because there might be a figure standing at the other end, and what would you do then? you want to contact somebody for comfort, but everyone you know is asleep and you don’t want to disturb them over something so trivial. you want to move and run and scream and deal with the problem, but you can’t do anything. just sit. just watch. just wait. minutes tick by, somehow. and somehow, dawn breaks over the horizon. you didn’t sleep, but maybe the sun will provide safety. maybe.

maybe not. there’s a unique kind of horror in the mundane. you don’t think about the sounds of the world around you until you begin to feel uneasy in the sunny open air, until the paranoia kicks in and suddenly it’s all you can hear because you’re hyper-focusing on trying to identify why you no longer feel safe. birds warble and call to one another. the leaves relentlessly rustle as the playful breeze shakes them about. from far away, a dog is barking. the big kind, the one that goes “boof boof,” you’ve just gotten out of your car after being out all day and you’re standing uncertainly in your driveway, looking around to try and pinpoint why you’re so anxious. you realize, with a zipping sort of shock down your spine, that there’s nobody else around. not even any evidence that they existed in the first place and it’s so stupid but you begin to think that maybe you’re the only person who has ever existed because the world around you feels so empty and barren. energy tingles in the air, but it is hollow. a void of something you can’t quite perceive. the dog stops barking. the wind dies down. do you dare go inside? your home, the place that should be your refuge, is not safe. you go inside and look at a kitchen you scarcely recognize as your own, at a bed that might as well belong to somebody else, at decor you once were so proud to put up that now seems arranged by a strangers hand. the one who is preying on you is probably human, but the threat feels supernatural in effect. omnipresent. we fear that which we don’t understand, and how can you possibly understand the motive of someone who has focused on you? dread sinks down deep as you shift from foot to foot and second guess every move you make. it smells like sun-warmed concrete and the wind-blown scent of spring greenery. just like your home itself, the smell is familiar as it is foreign. eventually, you go inside.

it’s so obscene, the way that sweat pools between your shoulder blades and slicks your skin, making you shiver with a distinctly antithetical chill to your blazing temperature. sweat is gross and uncomfortable, it makes your clothes cling to your skin and hair mat to your forehead. it’s so crude, this gouging, pinching discomfort like you need to pee making your thighs tremble as they clench together. your entire body is wound up tight as you crouch in the dark, barely allowing yourself to breathe for fear of being discovered while he looks for you. maybe he takes his time just to mess with you, maybe he doesn’t. maybe he tauntingly calls out to you in a feigned attempt to draw you out of hiding. maybe he means it when he tells you that he loves you. no matter what, there’s no escape, not anymore. it’s a foregone conclusion that you will be found. but you can’t move. fight or flight is out the window, you are frozen. you know the eventuality, yet you cling to hope out of the sheer, stubborn, and half-mad belief that this cannot possibly be real.

its so repulsive, this sickness that gathers in your gut, that invites the swollen weight of nausea to press down heavy and inescapable in your throat, that sits on your paper dry tongue. it tastes like old, rusted metal, the scent that clung to your blistered hands when you were young and tried your luck on the ancient playground monkey bars. the bloody flavor that choked you when you lost the last of your baby teeth, leaving your childhood behind and exchanging imaginary monsters for the real ones. just when the anticipation is on the precipice of killing you, you’re found. you expected it, yet you still scream. it still hurts, it’s still terrifying, you’re still clouded by the vague fog of disbelief that this could be real. you keep thinking that. it can’t be real, this can’t be real. things like this don’t happen to you.

but it is. you can’t stop it. you have no control over your life in that moment and thereafter.

and you think about everything you’ve ever read online about torture. human beings are so capable of hurting each other, it’s a dedicated art form. and you know about stalkers, the real kind, not the fun fictional yandere kind. you know the torture that human bodies are capable of withstanding before dying, the grotesque limits they can endure. limbs removed or hobbled. fingers peeled of nail and skin. teeth pulled, tongue cut out, eyes gouged, skin lashed to tatters, feet spun around so the skin stretched like rubber. not to mention sexual torture. when a human being is granted absolute dominion over another, even the best of them go rotten. do you ever think about that? in these situations, the fear of pain would get to me above all else, i think.

if you don’t immediately disassociate from the fiction, if you force yourself into the scenario as its presented with a degree of reality, the horror is really limitless. and, you may ask, why was this important? because it is six am and i cannot sleep and i’ve had this entire conceptual outline of good horror yandere fiction sitting in my docs for ages that i’ll never actually use to write character x reader so i am giving it to you raw and uncut.

#personal #yandere #uh tw for being a pretentious and sleepy idiot cooming over ye ole classic yandere tropes #sometimes i like to imagine this stuff in clear enough detail that it actually makes me uncomfortable enough to turn on the light #and rethink my life choices #because this aint it #but at the same time #at this point its sunk cost fallacy i've spent too long typing this out to discard it #sorry dear followers #stalking tw

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legolaslovely · 3 years

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Lucky

A/N: This turned into a whole story?? WHA?? But I’m super happy about it! This story is my version of this post. Please! I’d still love to know what YOUR version would be! Shoot me an ask or comment and let me know! I have been in a super lovey dovey sappy mood lately and would love to share in it with anyone who’s up for it. Either way, I hope you get some joy from reading this story and that post. Also, I fudged the ages of Castleroy’s kids a bit to fit this story. Though through season two, we’re never told their ages! Also, as you can see, I used a lovely picture of Deano in the photoset because in my mind, he fits the role perfectly. :)

Pairing: Lord Aloysius Castleroy (Reign) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,135

Warnings: Talk of rough peasant life, reader has step-children, tw // food, FLUFF ALL THE FLUFFITY FLUFF

Summary: Check out this post!

You could have struggled through your entire life. You could have been sent to work for hours on end each day, only to perish from a single sparse harvest or plague. You could have been pushed on a man who only loved you for the sons you gave him. You could have been lonely.

But instead, you were quite lucky.

You met a man who didn’t care what others had to say about his life or his choices or his family. He didn’t listen to the whispers that followed him through the room when he asked you to dance and led you to the middle of the floor. Nor did he mind that even your presence at the gathering was a fortunate mistake or that you’d forgotten all the precise steps the moment he took your hand.

He only thought of the way your body relaxed against his, even with so few points of contact in the overly and cursedly appropriate dance. He fell for the stubborn lock of hair that always tickled your cheek no matter how you pinned it back, and he paid extra attention to your smile that only grew wider with each correct step. And when that light reached your eyes, he knew. He knew you were special.

And when he showed you his kindness, his generosity, his bravery, and soon, his love, you then gladly accepted his marriage proposal. Immediately.

Which is why you held no fear when he returned home from his business abroad and caught you teaching his children how to cook dinner for themselves. Anyone else would have shamed you- your own father would have beaten you- for attempting to teach the children of one of France’s most affluent men how to tend a fire or wash vegetables or set their own table. It was ludicrous.

To you, however, it was fun. And to the children- now your children- it was positively merry.

You asked the two boys to set the dining room table with whichever bowls caught their fancy from the cupboards. It only sent laughter bubbling through you when you saw them leave the kitchen with bits of cutlery and place ware from each of the home’s four dining and tea sets. But then again, you didn’t expect any less. You only hoped that you wouldn’t hear any crashing or shattering from the next rooms over.

Though you didn’t expect your oldest daughter to take any part in your little game, she begged you to show her how to knead and prepare the bread dough that had been left to rise in front of a sunny window. You divulged the secret tricks to tipping the delicate dough from the bowl and then beating everything but the yeast’s life out of it. She was an incredibly sharp girl and instantly took to what some may call the most difficult part of baking with quick skill. She even graced you with a genuine smile when she felt the dough transform into a ball of silk in her hands, and you didn’t hesitate to flick a finger full of flour onto her cheek as a reward.

Your youngest didn’t surprise you. While she was a bit different from her older siblings, she very much resembled you before you had found your place in life. Still, that knowledge did nothing to calm the swell of emotion that rose inside you when she clung to your apron skirts as soon as her brothers and sister scattered to their own work stations.

“Would you like to stay here and help me?” you asked her.

She nodded and slid up to the counter covered with raw vegetables. The center of her chest barely reached the wooden slab workspace, so you gave her a clean towel and asked her to dry the freshly washed carrots. As you peeled the potatoes, round, blue eyes like her father’s watched the knife swirl and slice in your calloused, well worked fingers.

While you worked together, you told her stories of what it had been like to be a child on a farm. And as you chopped vegetables and she piled them into the large pot you’d placed on the floor in her reach, the both of you sang the songs of France that any little one, rich or poor, would know by heart.

“Papa! Look!” was all she said before running to him and dragging him through the kitchen by the hand.

“I see! You’ve been busy,” he said, picking her up and kissing her.

“Yes,” she said. “And Gemma baked the bread and the boys set the table!”

“Very good!” With a look to you, he added, “And brave.”

You smiled at him, doing a horrid job of hiding the roll of your eyes.

He kissed your cheek before following his children to the dining room and listening to each of them share their individual roles for the night. Their proud voices rang through the lower floor of the house as you continued your work, humming to yourself and swiping the last of the diced onions into the pot still on the floor. You wiped your hands, preparing to lift the large vessel onto the counter when your husband appeared and did it for you.

“And where have all my helpers gone?” you asked.

“I’ve sent them to bathe and dress for the special meal you all have prepared.” He rolled up his sleeves. “Though I, my love, am ever at your service.”

You had him lift the jug of broth and pour the measured amount into the pot. Then, as you stirred the steaming soup, he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Our youngest was very excited to tell me of your history with potatoes. And I believe there’s even a chance she may eat her carrots now that she knows how much work goes into growing them.”

You leaned into his warmth. “I thought it right they know where I came from and what you’ve done for me.”

He kissed your skin. “You’re right. They should know how strong and brilliant their new mother is.”

You turned into his embrace, struggling to speak through the lump in your throat and the tightness in your chest, and held his face as you kissed him. “I’m very happy,” you said against his lips. He understood the many meanings behind the statement.

“As am I.”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

He held out his hand to you. “What do you say we bathe you and get you dressed for the delicious dinner you’ve prepared. And I can show you just how glad I am to be home.”

You took his arm and he led you upstairs to your shared chambers where he, as always, spoiled you rotten.

Yes, you were very lucky.

---

@emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @fire-flv @nerdbirdsworld @dashesofink @winchesterandpie @tumblinglringlring @specialagentsnark @karlthecat15722 @sagabriar @marymegger @aidan-kili-mitchell-forever @cassiabaggins @guardianofrivendell @lathalea @laurfilijames @moniamoure @justfollowtheroad @vem-vem-writes

#i definitely cried writing this #tw food #lord castleroy #reign #lord castleroy x reader

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atinytokki · 3 years

Text

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Chapter 7: Lucky

In the sails, all sounds but one were muted and distant to Hongjoong.

The wind whispered promises. The sea, its evil twin, often spoke too, luring victims in with pristine pools and sparkling shallows but crushed those hopes with torrents and freezing and drowning, without even the decency to spit out the bones. When Hongjoong heard the wind, he knew it was sincere. It had guided him many times before, so he opened his eyes and looked where it wanted him to look.

Below in the frigid waves, two Navy soldiers clung to a piece of driftwood that was floating towards the Black Crow.

It looked like they were alive, but fading quickly. While there was no real reason to take interest in a couple more casualties where a battle had broken out, something told him he should intervene.

Needing a closer look, Hongjoong sliced through the knot tying the rope he was clutching to the pulley and stepped off the beam, letting his weight carry him down to the main deck where he peered over the railing and finally caught sight of their unconscious faces.

“Wooyoung and Yeosang...” he gasped in utter disbelief, turning and grabbing Lieutenant Byun in excitement. “That’s Wooyoung and Yeosang! Quick, return to the Crow and open one of the starboard gun ports. I have to save them before they freeze to death.”

Byun looked hesitant to risk his neck for two more pirates, especially these two who he’d had dealings with, but Hongjoong was already climbing over the railing and diving into the sea, which left him little choice.

“Come on men!” He yelled back at the soldiers who were finishing off their enemies efficiently and without any more resistance thanks to Hongjoong’s swift retribution. “Let’s scuttle her from the Black Crow.”

The combination of freezing air and freezing water chilled Hongjoong to the bone almost immediately upon diving in, but he pushed through and swam towards the drifters, checking their breathing before clinging onto the wreckage and pulling it towards the Crow’s starboard hull. Wooyoung was struggling through laboured breaths but showed no signs of consciousness, and Hongjoong knew he had limited time to get him to safety.

The wakes of the Black Crow pushed them back as they approached, and Hongjoong gritted his teeth in frustration, eyes on the muzzles of cannons protruding through the lower gun ports, begging Byun to hurry and come to their aid.

The waterline was relatively high, if only they could get close enough and reach...

“Come on!” Hongjoong grunted, throwing himself into yet another stroke against the wakes, finally crossing the crest of the wave and making contact with the hull.

Just in time, the muzzle of the cannon directly above them disappeared and Byun’s head poked out through the gun port.

“Here!” Hongjoong yelled until the lieutenant looked down and spotted them, reaching out through the hatch to pull Wooyoung in when he was handed up, Hongjoong struggling to stay above water as he lifted his weight.

As Byun attempted to squeeze the unconscious Wooyoung through the opening, Hongjoong reached for Yeosang, who was stirring with a shiver, mumbling to himself in confusion, but letting his rescuers haul him up and into the ship.

“Now your turn,” Byun called back down, and Hongjoong raised a trembling hand, thoroughly exhausted, and reached with the last of his energy.

The feeling of the deck under him was welcome this time, even if he was so cold he could barely move. Lieutenant Park and Steward Doh were there too, laying out a futon and placing Yeosang and Wooyoung on it, wrapped up and dried off to give them a better chance of warming up.

“They’re alright?” Hongjoong asked while Byun helped him over to his usual corner.

“They will be,” the man responded assuredly before chaining the prisoner to the floor like he was supposed to. “You know the drill. I’ll have Park guard the door and bring you a blanket—”

“No, I should stay with them...” Hongjoong protested, staring longingly after his injured friends.

“Lucky, you’re on the verge of collapse. Rest for now, we’ll wake you when they come to,” the first lieutenant insisted, and he didn’t have to argue for long.

He smiled as he watched the prisoner’s eyes grow heavy and tried to make sure his chains weren’t bothering him.

Lucky wouldn’t be a prisoner for much longer. And at any rate, he was no longer alone.

...

The officers of the Paragon were calling for retreat. They’d successfully sunk the Indeok, but the Black Crow had finished with the other two Haemin ships and it looked like Kim was going to set his sights on them next.

San pushed through celebrating gunners to reach Jongho where he was bent over with his hands tangled in his hair from frustration.

“What is it? What’s happening?” He had to yell to be heard, and he gasped at the grief on Jongho’s face when he finally looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears.

“Yeosang and Wooyoung... they were on that ship, the one we just sunk.”

San dropped the bucket he was holding and raced to the gunport to try and catch a glimpse of any survivors as the Indeok disappeared beneath the waves.

“No, there’s no way! They have to be alive,” he replied in a choked whisper that grew into screams as the realisation of what they’d done dawned on him. “Please tell me you saw wrong! Or maybe they escaped! You just didn’t look closely enough, they’re fine, they’re on a lifeboat somewhere—”

“Silence!” Their overseeing commander yelled back, offended by the disruption of a few war prisoners.

Jongho was pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes and shaking his head wordlessly. Usually such a man of action, he was paralysed by the thought of what he had just done.

Anger boiled over in San. He had just lost Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and Yeosang all in one day and pure rage was coursing through his veins, the likes of which even the demon that had possessed him could not conjure.

Without a single rational thought, San picked up the nearest bag of gunpowder and hurled it into the sea. And then the next bag, and the next after that.

The Haemin soldiers were in commotion trying to stop him, but it took three commanders to drag him away and chain him up, restraining Jongho beside him and shutting them off from even the other war prisoners.

Closed away in the quiet dark, San tried to breathe and stop his panic before he slid into despair.

“Please San,” Jongho cried. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...”

“It’s not your fault.” San released a shuddering breath and pulled the younger boy close. The needs of his brother outweighed his own grief at the moment, and if he lost himself he wasn’t sure he could come back. “Let’s just hold on to hope.”

A few moments later, the noise of someone entering the brig surprised them. It was San’s translator, back with bad news.

“The captain has summoned you, and he is very angry. He says if you want to throw our supplies overboard, you may as well throw yourselves. He sees you only as an expendable resource.”

Jongho’s breathing became laboured again.

“And what do you see us as?” San challenged, watching the man crack under the pressure.

“Teacher... for a short while.”

“Buy us some time,” San asked quietly, convincingly. “That’s all I ask of you. We’ll go willingly, just let us figure this out.”

Haltingly, as if a plan was taking shape in his mind, the translator nodded and turned away.

“Jongho, we need to go,” San hissed. “We need to go now.”

“Land is right there, a Jaecho colony,” the younger boy realised, turning to stare through the porthole at an unsuspecting Kibo. “We can get there.”

“Not if they weight us and drop us to the sea floor,” San warned darkly. “They’ve done it before, they’re certainly capable of it. We need a backup plan to be safe.”

“I can breathe underwater, but you can’t,” Jongho groaned, terrified of yet another life being in his hands. “Even if I can get myself free, I don’t think your breath capacity is enough to keep you alive until I can free you.”

San rubbed his hands down his face in desperation. “You’re right, we need help.”

An idea hit Jongho full force. “Hang on, my lungs and vocal cords are tuned to handle water... and generate sound.”

“You mean you could call for help?” San gasped, taking Jongho by the shoulders.

“Sound travels faster underwater,” Jongho responded excitedly. “If I sing the loudest I can, it might reach whichever mermaid cove is closest. I’m one of their own, they’ll help me.”

“It’s a long shot,” San said after a moment, biting his shot and looking away. “You don’t know if anyone is nearby, or if they’ll come in time.”

A pair of guards arrived to drag them to the main deck for punishment, breaking their little conference.

“It’s our only shot. We’ll just have to try,” Jongho insisted.

They were out of time.

...

The resemblance between the brothers was uncanny. Seonghwa had never seen Gunho before, but he didn’t want to interrupt their precious embrace just to introduce himself, so he smiled softly and kept his distance.

As he breathed him in, Yunho thought back to the last time he’d seen Gunho. So much had changed since then, clearly even Gunho had changed.

“I’m still taller,” Yunho whispered deviously, earning himself a punch in the arm before Gunho buried his face in the crook of his neck again.

“Stop ruining the moment!”

Fondly shaking his head, Yunho pulled his brother closer and whispered words that were only for him to hear.

“Gunho, I missed you so much, I really did. It feels like it’s been so long but here you are, a couple years later in Geobugi of all places— how did you even get here?”

Gunho’s face was tinged with red but a grin spread across his cheeks as he explained. “Captain Seongho of the Hammerhead II offered a ludicrous amount of money and debt forgiveness for someone with medical knowledge to join his new band, and I figured since you were away on a pirate vessel... why not me too?”

Yunho straightened and glanced around for the old pirate. He’d heard of him several times, through street legends and the personal tales of Yeosang and San. “Captain Seongho of... I wasn’t aware there was a second Hammerhead,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle. He’d always been warned about the desperate Captain Seongho. “I wasn’t aware he was even back in business.”

“He managed to commandeer a naval frigate,” Gunho began to recount.

“And you must have managed to rise through the ranks,” Yunho finished for him, a proud twinkle in his eye. They could discuss the ramifications of that arrangement later.

As he pulled away, Gunho’s eyes wandered to Yunho’s companions and instantly he became star struck.

“Oh, Quartermaster Song Mingi!” He gasped, approaching him reverently. “You’re my favourite!”

Mingi blinked and furrowed his brow in question. He was flattered, but taken aback. “Favourite? I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

Gunho snickered knowingly and took the tall pirate by the hand, excitedly leading him to the back of the room and pulling away a curtain.

As they stepped onto a small wooden balcony, Mingi looked out at the town below them and saw the spiderweb of rope bridges, the cramped, bustling village space, and the floating markets and neighbourhoods all teeming with vibrant life— many of the residents clearly being pirates, even here in the centre of the city instead of only the outskirts. It was different than it had been last time they came, and the change was clearly for the better.

At the sight of him peering down, several of them began whispering among themselves with excitement.

“Everyone knows you!” Gunho explained proudly. “How could we not? You managed to infiltrate the highest security holding cells in Kon’s naval prison and save the Pirate King himself, all within a couple weeks of becoming a pirate!”

He turned to Seonghwa, who was standing a little ways behind them, impressed by the view but still a bit unsure of everything.

“And of course, Prince Seonghwa, your name has been known since before your coronation, maybe even since before you shattered the glass cage on Fortress Island with only a single nail,” Gunho gushed, clasping his hands in front of him before turning back to his brother.

“I’d be honoured to meet the rest as well, if I ever have the chance. Jung Wooyoung’s slaying of the kraken is legendary. As well as Choi Jongho whose voice overpowered the siren Queen. And Kang Yeosang, discoverer of Captain Seongho’s buried treasure? Meeting him would be incredible, the stories he could tell! And of course, there are so many questions I’d love to ask Choi San of a medical nature...”

Seonghwa turned and raised an eyebrow at Maddox, who offered a sly smile and shrugged innocently. He had warned them after all.

“But I already have bragging rights as the brother of the unbreakable Jeong Yunho,” Gunho concluded, elbowing his blushing brother good-naturedly. “With almost any skirmish the ATEEZ was involved in— you can be sure he was there and he crushed his enemies every time.”

“Unbreakable Jeong Yunho,” Yunho repeated quietly to himself. “I like that.”

“Alright, fess up,” Seonghwa finally asked Maddox as they ventured across a rope bridge, following Gunho who was giving them the grand tour. “You’ve been imprisoned, how did you know there was still a secret haven here?”

Maddox gave in and revealed the source of his knowledge just as they arrived outside another highly decorated floating house. A replica of the Stardust’s old flag hung outside and it reminded Seonghwa of the tales he had read in Hongjoong’s journal.

“I keep up with the happenings through secret correspondence with— where is he?— ah, Youngsaeng.”

Just as Maddox said his name, the aforementioned pirate opened the door for the group and stuck his head out.

“Kyungmoon!” He gasped and hugged Maddox tightly, and again Seonghwa felt party to something he had no place in, watching enviously and stepping out of the way as Gunho skipped back to the main building to ready their accommodations.

Yunho scratched his head as they were invited in, embarrassed that he didn’t already know the man. “I feel as if I’ve heard the name, but...”

“Oh forgive me!” The pirate swept in with a bow, offering them seats in the ornately furnished parlour. “Heo Youngsaeng, Master Rigger of the Stardust before she sank. There are a few other officers here, but they’re sleeping upstairs, the lazybones.”

“One of Eden’s crew?” Seonghwa spoke up in surprise. On the ATEEZ, none of them had so much as a clue whether anyone from the Stardust was still alive. “Oh, Hongjoong would’ve been so happy to see you.”

Youngsaeng’s smile faded into bittersweetness.

“I’m sure he would. I do miss those days— all of us do. We travelled together for some time but the sinking of the Stardust and Eden’s subsequent depression sent us back into the free lands... and it was much harder for us that time.”

Maddox hummed in agreement, taking a seat himself to reminisce. “I never made it past the island with the garden maze, but I knew there were some who did,” he faced Seonghwa again to explain. “Our old Master Rigger Youngsaeng remained in contact with me through letters we bribed others to deliver for us while I was there.”

“And it might interest you to know,” Youngsaeng continued. “That while these towns fell into stagnancy with the gradual extermination of piracy, there is a new life and desire for leadership here. Folk look to the war as an opportunity. To reestablish ourselves, to fight under one banner, and to break away once and for all.”

Seonghwa sat back and sighed at the sudden turn the conversation had taken. Of course, he knew they were gearing up to this, but it was complicated nonetheless. This wasn’t just an alliance, it was a growing city state.

“That’s all well and good but we came here to find help for Mingi and Jongho, not to be the face of a revolution.”

“You already are,” a deep voice responded from the doorway. Everyone turned to see a solidly built pirate closing the front door behind him, pulling off his boots and approaching for introductions.

“Kim Minseob,” he said, and Seonghwa already knew who he was. The Stardust’s boatswain, without whom the reputation of Eden’s crew would be nowhere near as intimidating, but who, despite his cold exterior and intense eyebrows, had harboured a genuine soft spot for Hongjoong when they travelled together, according to the journal.

“I’ve just returned from the armories,” he explained as he took a seat. “More weapons have been stockpiled voluntarily, and several other representatives have approached me after the ATEEZ’s arrival to discuss plans— more than yesterday.”

“So you see,” Youngsaeng finished for him. “That simply by being here, you’ve incited complete strangers to take part in a war they could be running the other way from.”

Seonghwa frowned. It was supposed to be a compliment, but he wasn’t sure he liked having that sort of power.

“If you don’t mind,” Yunho spoke up, coming to his rescue. “We’d prefer to deal with Mingi’s condition first.”

“Of course,” Youngsaeng acquiesced, getting to his feet and leading the three officers and Maddox outside and south to the waterfront.

Unsure who they Stardust crew had gotten to replace Babylon as a surgeon, it took until they arrived outside the apothecary shop for Yunho to realise where they were. “This is where we bought Hongjoong’s medicine last summer!” He remembered aloud. “When we stopped here during the mutiny.”

“If you wondered how so many stories spread about you, I think you can attribute it to leaving your crew here for so long a shore leave back then,” Youngsaeng pointed out intellectually as Seonghwa opened the door and glanced around at the strange medical paraphernalia.

“Miss Namji?” Youngsaeng called into the back hallway when no one appeared at the desk.

“You lot again,” a young woman’s voice answered, sharp but full of mirth as she emerged and began cleaning some bottles off a shelf. “Who’s dying this time?”

Yunho smiled politely and waited for the apothecary to recognise him. “No one this time— at least, we don’t think so— but we’d much appreciate if you could take a look at Mingi’s wound.”

The woman dropped what she was doing and squinted through a magnifying glass at him. “Well,” she gasped, ushering the group through the hanging bead curtain and into the back rooms, telling Maddox and Youngsaeng to wait outside and scrounge up some money pay the bill. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Just remove the eyepatch and let’s have a look, shall we?”

Mingi took a deep breath and did as she asked, following along when she told him to look this or that way and remaining anchored even as she stared at him for extensive periods of time.

Miss Namji was an oddball, but she was just like the rest of this town. Young, passionate, and skilled. And ready to take the world by storm.

“Inflammation and scarring of the cornea, I see... well, you’ll get your sight back if you’re careful,” she concluded. “I’ll prescribe some medicines that should do it, but expect the process to take time. If sunlight or heat begin to bother you, shelter from them just to be safe.”

She rushed off to find some eye drops and Mingi slumped in his chair.

Yunho frowned and leaned forward to take his hand. “Did you hear that? You’ll heal, Mingi! Aren’t you excited?”

“I don’t deserve it,” Mingi muttered, keeping his gaze on the floor. “First Hongjoong, now Jongho. Who else will be hurt because of me?”

“Mingi, don’t say that...” Seonghwa scolded quickly.

“You know why I had to believe he was alive?” Mingi rounded on the both of them, with no need to explain who he was talking about. “Because if he really hung that day, it is my fault.”

“It is not your fault,” Yunho insisted desperately, face reddening as he became angry. “If anyone other than the murderer must be blamed, we all share the guilt.”

“No, but it is,” Mingi cried in frustration, voice becoming a haunted whisper. “You don’t understand, everything has been my fault from the beginning. It was because of my loose lips that Hongjoong was ever ratted out for being a pirate in training. I’m the reason he ran from home, nearly burned to death while the ship sunk around him, and then lived alone for a year on an uninhabited island— which, by the way, he was still too frightened to talk about much, even years later. I’m the reason he came back traumatised and, to make it all worse, I couldn’t act quickly enough to stop him from being branded by the Navy, no matter what your innocent little brother thinks. He had to live with a letter burned into him for the rest of his life and it killed him, Yunho. It killed him, they hung him for it. So you can’t tell me to let it go. That kind of guilt... it won’t ever go away.”

This was why he had hardly spoken a word since coming here, why the fame bothered him so much. Because it was all wrong. He was no hero. Without him, Hongjoong might be standing here today.

“Let it fade, Mingi,” Seonghwa soothed softly, stepping in and wiping away tears as usual. “Focus your anger on the people who did this. If you only blame yourself, you let them get away with it.”

There was an edge to his voice that betrayed his own guilt and fury, and revenge was clearly not far from his mind even as his eyes swam with concerned tears.

“I miss him,” Mingi confessed, rubbing his sniffling nose and throwing a lopsided smile at Yunho. “I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to do... this is his territory.”

“We’re here to rest,” Yunho reminded them both. “And to restock so we can go get Jongho back.”

“Let’s just take it slow,” Seonghwa agreed, and that was the consensus as Namji returned and tested out the eye drops, Yunho squeezing Mingi’s hand in case he needed something for the pain.

Rolling up his sleeves, Seonghwa made his way back out to where the older pirates were discussing numbers in low voices.

“Two hundred from the Kiseki and its spy ships,” Youngsaeng was rattling off a list to Maddox, and the two paused as Seonghwa emerged.

“This all sounds like you’re trying to recruit us for war,” he caught them with a suspicious eyebrow raise. “I hope you know we aren’t decided on anything.”

He looked out at the people in the lazy rowboats below. It looked like a peaceful life here, uninterrupted and pure instead of scorched by violence and death. Such a corner of the world should be kept secret, not announced with trumpets and cannons.

“We’re not your generals,” he sighed, folding his arms around himself. “We’re not even capable pirates compared to you. Most of our deeds were lucky scrapes with death or accidents.”

Maddox chuckled and came up beside him, eyes tracing a group of children that played in the street. “But you are the leaders. You’re feeling lesser because you lack a leader of your own. It’s understandable, you’re in mourning. So are we, he meant a lot to us as well.”

Youngsaeng nodded from beside him and exhaled a shaky sigh. Of course, experienced pirates were better at hiding their emotions.

Maddox went on with a confident smile like the sun breaking through a cloud. “But your life is an incredible journey, and an inspiration to many of the men you see before you. They know there’s greatness inside. So did Hongjoong. We’ll never pressure you into something you don’t want to do— you’ve had enough of that at the palace I’m sure— but be kind to your own grieving heart. Have some faith in yourselves.”

Faith was far from them now, and even if they grabbed onto it, the sadness would continue, he knew that.

But there was nothing better for grief-induced self-loathing than a good old fashioned rescue mission.

Seonghwa set his jaw.

“How many supplies can you spare for Jongho?”

...

Icy cold water gave way to frigid air and when Yeosang awoke, shivering, it was on an unfamiliar bed, bundled in blankets with the pitch of a ship rocking him back and forth.

Wooyoung lay on the futon next to him, bandages tightly wrapped around his ribs, but his chest rose and fell steadily, and it calmed Yeosang to realise he was alright.

His head was pounding as he sat up and the evening sun pierced through portholes and shone into the hull, where it appeared he and Wooyoung had been brought.

Yeosang couldn’t remember by whom.

“Welcome to the Black Crow!”

He started and turned to the soldier addressing him. It was Lieutenant Byun, a few shirt buttons undone, hair a little longer and face a lot less stern, but the sight of him still sent Yeosang scrambling away.

“S-Stay back!”

“Calm down, I won’t hurt you,” the man assured him softly, keeping his distance in case Yeosang swung at him.

“Really?” He retaliated with an empty laugh. “Because you didn’t seem to have any problem doing so before.”

“I’m... I’m sorry, that was...” The man shook his head as if to clear it and slowly moved to the side to reveal an unconscious form chained to the floor, a blanket tucked around him carefully. “Things have changed. Lucky saved you. The stress of the battle was a bit much and he felt faint so we told him to lay down for awhile until you awoke—”

“Lucky?” Yeosang’s voice was merely a whisper. He had heard about him before, but seeing him now... something inside stirred with familiarity at the silhouette on the ground before him, so shakily getting to his feet with the support of the lieutenant, he moved forward and extended a hand to his mysterious rescuer’s blanket, slipping it off to get a better look.

Lucky shifted at the touch and let out a soft moan as he sat up. Yeosang caught his breath at the surge of butterflies the sound of that voice gave him.

It couldn’t be... there was just no way...

The stranger fully faced him and Yeosang froze. He didn’t dare breathe, and neither did anyone else in the room.

It was Hongjoong.

“How...?”

Yeosang turned back to Byun and opened his mouth to ask the lieutenant to slap him awake, but was pulled down into a tight embrace before he could fathom what was going on.

He stood no chance. Yeosang was defenceless against the wave of tears that shook him to his core and swept him away into Hongjoong’s arms where he could do nothing but cry out his name again and again in disbelief.

“I waited,” he sobbed. “I waited for you...”

“I’m so sorry,” Hongjoong whispered, trembling himself but not letting go even an inch of what he had held dear for so long, finally close to his heart, alive and well.

“It’s been so long,” Yeosang was shaking his head, completely numb with amazement, and Hongjoong pulled back a bit to get a better look at him.

“I know,” he dropped his glassy eyes into his lap. “It’s been so... so lonely.”

“You saved us?” Yeosang repeated what he’d been told. “How? Are... are we on the Crow right now?”

“You are,” Lieutenant Byun stepped back in, having given them a bit of space to reunite. “He was atop the captured enemy ship when he saw you, and he brought you through the gunport and hid you here. The Admiral doesn’t know anything yet.”

“We were drifting towards Kibo,” Yeosang sighed, turning back to an apologetic Hongjoong.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I would’ve taken you to the colony, but I’d never be able to swim that far in this condition, not with you and Wooyoung both.”

“Condition...?”

Hesitantly, Hongjoong shifted to pull his shirt over his head so Yeosang could see.

A massive wound scarred his midsection, slowly healing but clearly aggravated by all the action earlier. It looked as if someone had skewered him like a fried fish and left him out in the elements for hours. It wasn’t his only scar, but it was certainly the freshest. There was one event it likely came from.

“The execution?” Yeosang choked out, tears brimming again as he remembered what he’d been told. “Seonghwa thought you fell, but he confessed to hoping you were alive for weeks afterwards. All this time... he’s so heartbroken.”

Hongjoong hung his head and opened his mouth to say something again, but Yeosang cut him off. “No more apologies. You did nothing wrong.”

He reached forward to pull the blanket around his captain’s bare shoulders again, while he tried to explain what was going on in the depths of the Black Crow.

“The Admiral is deceiving everyone. He wants the world to think I’m gone, and now he uses me to win his battles with Haemin.”

“So how did you survive?” Yeosang finally asked, sitting and sharing the warmth with him.

Hongjoong nodded in the lieutenant’s direction. “If he’d saved me moments later, I really would be dead.”

Hence the nickname Lucky.

Yeosang was still suspicious of the man’s motives and couldn’t help but voice his reservations. “Why? To make you his prisoner and torture you again?”

“To help him escape, when the time is right,” Byun broke in to defend himself. “I acted on impulse, but over time I’ve decided. The world needs its Pirate King. Me and most of the other officers are prepared to help by whatever means necessary.”

Hongjoong seemed to have made allies in his time here, and if he trusted them after all the evil they’d done to him there was no reason for Yeosang not to, so he allowed himself to be persuaded.

“What can we do?” He firmly volunteered his help. It felt right, slipping fluidly back into the flow of things, no matter how long it had been since he’d seen his captain.

The Admiral would be back at some point, and they’d have to find a way to hide from him.

“Well, we need to decide what to do about your father,” Byun listed first, wringing his hands nervously and lowering his voice when Yeosang asked why.

“He saw the Indeok sink,” he sighed and looked at Yeosang with mixed emotions swirling in his eyes. “And now he thinks you’re dead.”

...

That Haemin translator hadn’t been joking when he said the Paragon’s captain was angry.

Apparently even San had only seen the man once or twice, but from what Jongho could observe, he was a spineless sot who doled out violent punishment as he saw fit.

Which meant hopefully, he hadn’t thought at length about his murder scheme.

San was much better with the enemy’s language than Jongho was, and translated under his breath all the important things the man was yelling, occasionally glancing nervously at the depths of the ocean far below.

Jongho knew their only hope of rescue was him, and he could do nothing but pray as a metal ball and chain was attached to his ankle that their last resort would come through.

It was the sympathetic translator that clamped the weights on their legs, and he left some wiggle room intentionally, quietly returning to his post with a visible bead of sweat running down his face.

Jongho didn’t know him well, but he nodded a nearly imperceptible thanks to the man before preparing to be thrown overboard.

San was sucking breaths in and out quickly, struggling to come to terms with the gamble he was about to take with his own life, and Jongho could do nothing but squeeze his hand reassuringly.

Waiting was almost worse than the actual fight for their lives. Jongho didn’t want to die waiting.

A final shout came from the quarterdeck and San didn’t bother translating it. The sudden feeling of being dragged forward made the impact with the water that much worse.

The world was spinning until Jongho righted it in the slower freefall through ocean waves, pointing his weighted feet down and hitting the sand just a moment before San.

It was enough time for him to catch him before his head hit the rocky sea floor all around them.

Losing consciousness would completely destroy his already limited air supply.

There was no time to waste, so Jongho rushed through the process of breathing, pushing past his instincts to let his body inhale and relaxing as the world instantly became clearer.

Rather than let San deplete his oxygen further by struggling to free himself from the chain, Jongho began to work on it for him, starting to sing a tune only mermaids should be able to know while he pulled at the chain. He had broken bars with his bare hands, he should be able to do this.

He could feel time ticking away, San starting to writhe around in the corner of his vision.

There was no other way to breathe underwater than to be given the ability, and there was no other way to request help than through their exclusive line of communication, Jongho knew that.

He was trying to breathe bubbles in San’s direction in between phrases of the song, trying to buy them just one more minute, then surely their rescue would come.

The melody grew in force and enchantment. He needed someone to hear. It didn’t matter how far away, someone could be at their aid in a moment if they tried hard enough, they only had to hear.

“San?” Jongho asked when he had been still in his peripherals for a couple of seconds. That was not a good sign.

Jongho shook him by the shoulders and tried not to panic. He didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t a real mer-creature, he didn’t have gills and couldn’t share air.

Pure fear set in when San went limp and began to drift lower down, knees hitting the sand next to the ball that was drowning him.

The ball.

That was it!

Jongho struggled to rip his own chain off, not even flinching at the crack of his ankle breaking, and turned back to San.

With all the strength he had left, Jongho scooped the metal weight into his arms and tried to swim upwards with it. If he could reach the surface, San’s body would follow, and there was air up there.

Air both of them could breathe.

Jongho’s vision blurred but he kicked harder and struggled in the direction of the sun, nothing but a distorted yellow glow casting a shimmer of light down toward him.

He sang louder and clearer to counteract the effort of hauling such a burden against the pressure of the sea.

Progress was being made, but it was too slow. The tune began to die as Jongho’s strength started to give out with his ankle throbbed painfully and he knew San’s eyes had been closed for far too long, he could see the last bubbles of life leaving his lips.

This could not be happening. He could not let San die. Against his will, a sob interrupted his melody. Jongho could only hold San close and kick his legs ferociously. Every foot forward was followed by two backward. He kept singing anyway.

When he had all but given up, the shimmer of scales in the distance caught his attention.

There was a group of mermaids speeding towards him.

“Here!” Jongho screamed, in his excitement almost drifting all the way back down. “Help us, please!”

His eyes were full of tears, and he could barely even see who it was that had answered his call, but he surrendered to the arms enclosing him, bearing him and San to the surface and rapidly hurtling to land in formation.

They were singing his song together in unison, for no other reason than to encourage him, to reassure him they were there.

As he felt the sun on his face and the grains of sand beneath him, he crawled to where the mermaids were reviving San.

The sight of his chest rising and falling rhythmically made Jongho weak with relief.

“Thank you,” he was repeating over and over again. “Thank you so much.”

“You were nearly there,” a familiar voice answered. “You just needed a little push.”

“Eunjoo!” Jongho laughed, reaching out for a hug. It felt like ages since he had seen her, and the two were so close before, Jongho had regretted missing his chance to tell her goodbye properly.

A couple other sisters finished their work on San, easily ripping the chains away, and greeted Jongho before slipping back into the water so as not to be seen. They were on Kibo’s shores, it would be dangerous to be discovered.

“Dare I ask how you ended up in such a situation?” Eunjoo asked with a coy smile.

“You wouldn’t believe the half of it if you heard,” Jongho answered softly, brushing a strand of hair out of San’s face. He appeared to be coming to.

“You know our sisterhood is always aware of what goes on at the surface,” the mermaid teased as San shot up and began coughing.

“W-What happened?” The dripping pirate asked, eyes widening and body tensing when he met eyes with the mermaid watching him.

“It’s alright, this is Eunjoo,” Jongho explained, rubbing San’s back as he shook violently in the cold air. “She saved us.”

“Actually, Jongho did,” the mermaid argued. “He dragged you up from the sea floor himself.”

San embraced Jongho thankfully, and the two stayed like that a few moments more to take in all the warmth they could.

Eunjoo had a bittersweet smile on her face, but began to sink below the waves again in farewell, retreating before another human saw her.

“Wait!” Jongho called, limping into the shallows desperately. “Can I press upon you to help us just a bit more?” He asked shyly, swatting a hand up as Eunjoo went to pinch his cheeks.

“You may,” she answered solemnly, a twinkle remaining in her deep blue eyes as she watched San wade out to join them.

“Yeosang and Wooyoung, our crewmates, we saw them on the Indeok. You wouldn’t happen to know if they... if they were...”

“The sea claimed many lives today,” the mermaid told the pair solemnly. “Your friends were not among them.”

Twin sighs of relief were exhaled at once, and glancing at each other, the pirates wondered what to do next.

Their mermaid rescuer knew what they were thinking, and sighed before giving them a choice.

“You can pursue them at your own risk, or you can shelter for a time with those who will grant you aid.”

“They aren’t here on Kibo?” Jongho asked glumly, and Eunjoo answered by pointing at a dot on the horizon. The Black Crow, headed south.

Jongho waited for San to speak, but when the contemplative silence stretched on decided to contribute himself.

“Mingi, Yunho, and Seonghwa... they must be so worried. We should meet them first. We know where the Crow is headed, we should pursue it together.”

San bit his lip and searched Jongho’s face for even the smallest shred of a doubt.

But Jongho had no doubts anymore. He had won today, and the decision who to track down was his.

“You saved us, Jongho,” San insisted, voice rough from the expulsion of water. “It’s your call.”

...

It was dark. Wooyoung was cold, and hungry, and tired, and sore.

It felt like something was sitting on him and he could barely breathe, so he opened his eyes to ask for help, only to see a lone flame from a candle and two figures sitting on either side. One of them was Yeosang.

One of them was a ghost.

They hummed a song idly to themselves while they played cards, joining together in a soft harmony that Wooyoung recognised.

He tried to join in, but his voice came out as a desperate croak, and the song stopped, both looking up at him in surprise.

Yeosang scooted closer, blocking the ghost from view, and placed a hand on Wooyoung’s forehead.

“You’re quite warm,” he observed, biting his lip anxiously. “Feverish.”

That explained the ghost.

From behind Yeosang he poked out his head. He looked just like Hongjoong, except the Navy uniform he was wearing. Wooyoung wasn’t sure how he’d conjured up that fantasy, so he closed his eyes and rested his head back, waiting for the vision to go away.

Yeosang had left his side, speaking to someone at the door for a few minutes before he returned with medicine.

It stank awfully, and Wooyoung turned his nose away from it before Yeosang scolded him. “I know it tastes awful, but it’ll lower your fever while your ribs recover.”

“Ribs?” Wooyoung whispered painfully. That explained the crushing feeling on his chest.

“They’re broken, several of them,” Yeosang explained, shoving a spoonful of medicine into Wooyoung’s mouth while he was distracted. He ignored the whines and pressed the blankets closer. “You were hurt in the explosion on the Indeok.”

It came back to him in fragments— the chain reaction of fire and gunpowder, the decks collapsing around him, freezing water and floating debris.

“Did we make it to Kibo?” He muttered, glancing around at what looked like the hold of a ship, just above the waterline. It was night, so he rubbed his eyes and tried to see more clearly. “Did we make it to Woosung?”

“No, not exactly. We’re concealed on the Black Crow.”

“The Crow?” Wooyoung groaned. “What do you mean by concealed, does the Admiral know we’re here?”

Wooyoung hadn’t been avoiding him everywhere only to become his prisoner now.

Yeosang shook his head. “We have help. Sleep for now, I’ll explain later.”

Shivering and pulling the blankets closer, Wooyoung’s eyes drifted to the dancing flame as he fell asleep.

Yeosang resumed his card game with the ghost and Wooyoung wondered how it was the cards were moving by themselves.

He awoke next when Yeosang was changing his bandages, gooseflesh appearing all along his exposed skin until he could burrow under the blankets again. His wounds were improving. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but the ghost was still there, chained to the floor with concerned eyes and a watery smile pointed in Wooyoung’s direction.

“I’m going to give you food and more medicine,” Yeosang warned him, helping him pull his shirt back on over fresh bandages. “It will make you sleepy, don’t fight it.”

So again the world faded to black and time was pulled out from under him. But at least this time, his stomach was full.

It was afternoon when he was conscious next.

A naval surgeon was there, telling him to try to stand for awhile and leading him through a few exercises to make him healthy again. Yeosang and that ghostly hallucination of Hongjoong watched from the floor.

Wooyoung was unnerved that the apparition was still there. His fever was wearing off, but his imagination had conjured up a spirit to torment him.

It turned to Yeosang and spoke, halting with uncertainty but loud enough that Wooyoung could hear. He squeezed his eyes shut and clung to Yeosang, pulling him away from the ghost and trying to snap out of this vision he was having.

“Yeosang, I don’t think he... I don’t think he knows it’s me.”

“It can’t be you,” Wooyoung shot back, trying to step away towards the bed. “You’re dead.”

Hongjoong flinched and looked so crestfallen, Wooyoung almost felt bad, but he wasn’t real and it would be better to go back to sleep and forget the whole thing.

Yeosang insisted on pulling him closer, sitting him down next to the chained spirit. “Come and see for yourself.”

“You told me he—”

“I was wrong. Everyone was.”

Wooyoung froze as Hongjoong placed a hand on his forehead and smirked at him. “You aren’t feverish.”

It was real.

Wooyoung opened his mouth to respond but he couldn’t. He was still as a statue, tears brimming to the surface as Hongjoong pulled him into a hug.

“I told you I would find you.”

And somehow, in the debris of a sinking escort ship, he did.

Yeosang began to explain everything, how Hongjoong survived and ended up here, how he saved them and made alliances with the officers, and Wooyoung listened but he was too elated to respond or even look away.

The thought of Admiral Kim spiked a shard of anger in him again. “They keep separating us,” he growled.

Hongjoong brushed the hair out of his face and gripped Wooyoung by the shoulders. “It’s because they know we’re stronger together.”

The sound of the surgeon leaving stole their attention for a moment, and Wooyoung tensed defensively as a very familiar lieutenant entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Good timing, Byun,” Hongjoong smiled at the man, and Wooyoung was astounded.

“He tried to drown me!”

“He’s on our side now,” Hongjoong started to say, but Wooyoung knew, he’d heard it all when Yeosang explained it, but that didn’t mean he approved.

“Your side maybe. You can’t speak for the rest of us. I mean, do you have to wear their clothes and everything?” He whined, jealousy leaking through for a moment. “It looks like you’ve already got a new crew right here. What do you need us for?”

“I would never replace you,” Hongjoong frowned. “Working together is our best chance.”

“What we had was already our best chance,” Wooyoung argued back. “We had loyalty, we had love. And we ought to jump ship before they betray us.”

“With all due respect, you can’t,” Byun interrupted, clearly miffed by Wooyoung’s coldness. “We left land behind days ago, and we’re headed south into enemy territory.”

“So you mean we’re trapped,” Wooyoung chuckled sardonically. Byun didn’t engage his response.

Instead Hongjoong squeezed his hand and took over again, voice steady and firm.

“You know the most valuable currency of a pirate?”

Wooyoung tilted his head in thought before shaking it. He hadn’t been a pirate very long, really.

“It’s not treasure, a ship, a commission, or even a life,” Hongjoong counted off. “It’s a name. And the Admiral strung up the name of the Pirate King in Namhae— my name. This is me starting from scratch.”

Wooyoung softened in understanding. Who was he to barge in and destroy what Hongjoong had built from the brink of death?

If anyone could pull off an escape, the three of them could. And if it took help from the officers, so be it.

“Excuse me, but Yeosang,” Byun cleared his throat and jerked his head towards the door. “You need to make a decision about your father.”

Wooyoung saw the way Yeosang deflated and quickly deduced what the problem was. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

Yeosang nodded and got to his feet. “He doesn’t know we’re hiding down here. Only the few officers sympathetic to Hongjoong do. For all Father knows, I died in the wreckage.”

“And you should keep it that way,” Hongjoong voiced from where he huddled on the floor. “If he knows, he’ll tell the Admiral...”

Yeosang sighed and looked out the tiny porthole window, clearly wrestling with the question himself. It would be some ironically appropriate retribution to keep the truth from the navigator, after he’d kept the truth of Hongjoong’s survival secret himself. Wooyoung knew it was a lie Yeosang had lived with longer, and one he was still struggling to come to terms with.

But being dead to his father meant no more life in Bundam, no more prestigious navigator title, no more future in respectable society. Probably no more contact with his sister, or anyone from home.

He was doomed to be a pirate forever, and that brought a whole slew of problems. Deciding to survey the situation on his own, he moved for the doorway.

Hongjoong’s eyes begged for them not to go. He didn’t want to be alone again.

Still Wooyoung struggled to stand and follow Yeosang, trusting his judgment.

“No, you really should rest,” Yeosang protested, taking him by the arms and stopping his progress.

“I won’t leave you to do this by yourself,” Wooyoung insisted before any more arguments could be made and the pair of them silently crept up a deck to the crew’s living quarters, letting Byun point them in the right direction.

Through delicately frosted glass, they could see Navigator Kang on the floor of his bedroom.

He lay uncomfortably on the ground beside a jar of incense he’d been burning in mourning for his son, a tray of uneaten food in front of him.

Despite the passage of time, the man had not appeared on deck or even left the room.

Even as much as Wooyoung hated him, it was hard to watch.

“He loved you,” he whispered softly, voice breaking as he noticed Yeosang’s eyes transfixed.

He had loved him so much, he poisoned him. Thinking what he was doing was right, but harming his son with his good intentions instead of helping him.

“I loved him,” Yeosang admitted, scrubbing his eyes viciously to drive away any tears. “But we chose different paths a long time ago. I could never make him see it my way, I know that now.”

And still it was so unfair, that one he had once loved most would be left behind in evil, no matter what Yeosang did.

“You know, I think Captain was onto something, disappearing off the face of the earth,” he finally decided, making Wooyoung’s face light up.

“I’m dead to him now,” Yeosang explained. “Coming back would only renew the troubled relationship I was already struggling to endure. And besides, with the ATEEZ I have everything I need.”

“So what next?” Wooyoung prompted as they moved back into their secret hideout, ready to disappear behind various meticulously placed furniture items at the first sight of the Admiral. “We escape when we make landfall?”

“First, you recover,” Byun instructed as he closed and locked the door behind them. “You’re in no condition to be fighting if the need arises.”

Yeosang agreed quickly and sat down next to Wooyoung, huddling into a circle with Hongjoong on the other side so he could take part.

“I am in proper condition, however,” he pointed out to a jealous Wooyoung, motioning to each of his injured friends. “Hongjoong’s hands were burned. Yours were broken. My hands work fine, I should be using them.”

“You’re our secret weapon, Yeosang,” Hongjoong agreed with a growing smile. “We have work to do.”

...

The clang of metalwork and song echoed through Geobugi’s harbour and Yunho couldn’t help his curiosity.

“What exactly is all this?” He asked one of them burly men who was taking a break from pounding iron to drink some water and wipe the sweat off his brow.

“Oh, Yunho of the ATEEZ!” He greeted politely, reaching out a meaty hand to be shaken. “I’m honoured you would ask. We’re making armour for our ships. Still working on a lightweight design, but this is what we’ve come up with.”

“A-Armour?” Yunho repeated. “Are you anticipating full on battle?”

“If you should ever call for it, we’ll be ready!” The man replied cheerfully before returning to his work, joining the rhythmic work song.

Yunho shook his head to clear it and turned back to where Seonghwa, Mingi, and the Stardust officers were making an inventory of the newly restocked ATEEZ.

There was a small crowd of men gathered, all of them volunteering to join the mission, each most likely looking for the chance to brag that they’d participated in the rescue of Choi Jongho himself.

Seonghwa was politely turning down one after the other in favour of the existing crew. They’d been with them through thick and thin, there was no need to exchange them with hopeful replacements.

Mingi oversaw the loading of new supplies, a gift they were thankful to accept considering they had no idea what to expect if it came down to combat with Haemin over this.

He and Seonghwa were in their element, which left nothing much for Yunho to do at the moment except chat with the Stardust pirates.

“We’ll likely follow at a distance,” Maddox was saying. “Just in case the fighting escalates.”

“We can handle them just fine,” Yunho assured the quartermaster confidently.

“But there’s no need to handle them alone,” Youngsaeng responded softly, and Yunho was inclined to trust him.

Reaching up a hand to his neck, he rubbed the chain hanging there for luck. It was once Hongjoong’s crystal key, but now only an empty chain without its owner. Yunho was resourceful, but this particular necklace wasn’t meant to be repurposed. It was a small relic to help him focus and the memories it carried motivated him.

“Wait!” A voice yelled from the town, the pounding of feet following it.

Yunho turned around to see Gunho speeding towards him, stopping to regain his breath before protesting. “You can’t leave! You only just got here, you haven’t even seen your lodgings yet.”

“Gunho, I’m sorry,” Yunho sighed. “I want to stay with you, but we have to find our missing members first.”

“Then let me come—”

“No, Gunho, it’s too dangerous,” Yunho cut him off before he could even fully ask permission.

“I’m not a baby anymore,” Gunho pouted, ironically looking even more childlike in his petulance. “Don’t leave me behind again.”

“We’ll return when we’re whole, I promise,” Yunho told him with sincerity, pulling him close for a hug. “I just can’t leave Jongho to his fate. He’s my brother too now.”

Gunho nodded slowly and pulled away. “Alright,” he sighed, and it gave Yunho some hope that he had matured enough to understand. “But if you even think about going off on another adventure without me, I’ll hear it from the Stardust!”

He punctuated his statement with a light punch and Yunho couldn’t help but laugh.

Gunho seemed so much happier here, so much more himself. Part of Yunho was disappointed to have missed the transformation, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. Time had been kind to his brother, and not only to him.

There was just one more mission left before they could enjoy their hard-won spoils and live the life they’d built for themselves.

“Wait!”

Another voice interrupted the embarkation, this time from the other side of the docks.

“Now what?” Minseob griped, crossing his arms and preparing to deal with the interference.

“There’s no need for a search party!” The voice called out again, and Yunho turned around in shock as he recognised it.

“Jongho!”

He rushed toward the younger pirate, but Mingi beat him to it, squeezing him in a hug so tight, Jongho had to tap him on the shoulder to signal he needed to breathe.

“And not just me,” he gasped, quickly embracing Seonghwa and Yunho as well before turning and pushing back through the crowd with a slight limp, rescuing another pirate who had been swarmed with adoring fans.

“San!” Yunho laughed, and the shock of suddenly seeing him was so intense, that he couldn’t even form the words to ask how he was here.

San joined them with hugs as well, relief plastered across his face, and promised to explain when he got the chance. “It’s quite the story,” he sighed with a tired smile. “I’m not sure you’ll even believe me.”

“Hyung, I lost your spyglass,” Jongho suddenly confessed as they moved to a more secure corner of the dock, letting the Stardust officers deal with the traffic. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Jongho, don’t worry about it!” Yunho replied quickly, astounded that Jongho would even think of such a thing on the heels of his miraculous return. “I’m just happy you’re alive and safe.”

“You were preparing to set out?” San observed quickly, giving Jongho a knowing glance.

Seonghwa affirmed it and went to tell Yoojin to cancel the trip, but Jongho took him by the arm and stopped him.

“Good. We have a job for you.”

...

Taglist: @serendipityunho @celestial-yunho @atzjjongbby @89staytinyzen21

A/N: I came back with a really long one, possibly the longest chapter to date, so hopefully it was okay that there wasn’t much action 😆 From this chapter I think the trajectory of the rest of this volume might be apparent, and at any rate All to Action has passed the halfway point! Let me know what you thought and have a nice week~

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hyperactivelittlebee · 4 years

Text

Dancing in the Moonlight(Hermitcraft)

@gridoc

This is for ur pirate au, bean! Based off my "bring on the men" ask I did. I also promised GriDoc fluff sooo~

The soft sound of waves hitting the boat did nothing to drown out the sound of blissful celebration. Grian could blame them really- they had encountered SIRENS. They were just happy to be alive and celebrated it the only way they knew how; with bellies full of rum, a good meal, and a night out on the town.

However, this wasn't Grian's way of celebrating a near brush with death- as tempting as it was.

Instead, Grian had stayed back on the empty ship, much more content at having his privacy on the large vessel. He spent time in his quarters, pacing as he tried to wrap his head around the whole encounter. Why had the siren said that to him? Why did he feel such a burning sensation at the sight of Doc falling for the siren?

Surely it was because he didn't want the captain to succumb to such a terrible fate, right? Nothing more than moral dilemma.

Or maybe that was just what he was telling himself…?

His hand reached into his shirt, pulling out a small silver locket decorated in rubies and sapphires. He opened it, staring at the small framed photo of Taurtis inside.

What if that's only what he was telling himself.

That this was only moral dilemma.

That it was nothing more than just the right thing to do.

That he didn't want to save Doc, but had to for his own sake.

Grian swore off love a long time ago. With Taurtis gone, those butterflies he felt in his stomach just didn't feel right with anyone else. Those butterflies did nothing but remind him of something he lost long ago. It had been so long, but moving on just didn't feel right.

Shaking his head in frustration, the blonde snapped the locket shut and shoved it into his shirt again. He made his way up to the main deck of the ship, climbing up the stairs to the rear railing. In the clear night, Grian could see the entire starry expanse stretching and reflecting along the calming endless ocean before him. The moon shone, big and beautiful in the sky, reflecting off the waters below him.

Out here, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long while.

He felt in control of his life.

A familiar tune reached his ears from a nearby tavern, and he couldn't help but smile as the familiar lyrics played in his mind and rolled off his tounge.

"There was a time, I don't know when- I didn't have much time for men…"

Climbing on to the rail, he grabbed hold of a stray rope hanging from the mast, "But this is now, and that was then, I'm learning…" He leaned back to get a better view of the street, making sure nobody was nearby before continuing, "A boy alone, all on his own, must try to have a heart of stone!" The blonde walked along the rail, spinning slightly and clutching a hand of his heart, "So I try not to make it known, my yearning~" Humming, Grian looking down at the boats deck, smiling as excitement started to course through him, "I try to show, I have no need! I really do, I don't succeed…" Preparing to jump, his grip tightened around the rope. Taking a running leap, Grian swung his way through the air, relishing in the way the wind whipped through his hair, "So, let's bring ON THE MEN-!" Letting go, Grian landed on of the deck with a loud thud, "And let the fun begin! A little touch of sin~! why wait another minute?" At this point, he was belting into the night sky, the feeling of being free ever present, "Step this way, it's time for us to play-!" Grian could feel his heart thumping as he danced freely and sang on the deck, the feeling of having wings never leaving him, "They say we may not pass this way again, so let's waste no more time bring on the men~!"

That was the last time Doc went drinking with Ren. He loved the guy, really he did- but this was the third time his first mate had run off who knows where with Iskall and Mumbo.

His footsteps were heavy as he approached the dock, fully prepared to pass out the moment he got in bed. However, as a familiar tune hit his ears, he slowed down and softened them.

"So, let's bring ON THE MEN~!"

Climbing onto the boat, he jumped a little as a familiar figure landed with a thud on the other side of the deck, back turned to him, "And let the fun begin! A little touch of sin~! why wait another minute?" An amused smile crossed Docs lips as he recognized the figure as a certain former navy boy. So, this was what he was doing.

"Step this way, it's time for us to play-!" Not one to ruin such a performance, Doc silently made his way to lean back against a crate of supplies, watching Grian's every movement in the moonlight.

"They say we may not pass this way again, so let's waste no more time bring on the men~!"

The German snorted softly at the chorus, raising a brow.

"I always knew, I always said, that silk and lace in black and red...will drive a man, right off his head it's easy~"

Silk and lace in black and red?

Well, if Doc did see that on the smaller male, he surely would lose it.

"So many men, so little time! I want them all, Is that a-"

Spinning around, Grian met eyes with Doc and his voice broke off, "C-crime-!"

Smirking, Doc slowly clapped, adoring how Grians cheeks lit up bright red, brows furrowed, "H-how much did you see?"

"Enough." The creeper hummed, staring down the human boy with pure amusement, "And my, that really was quite a wonderful performance…"

"Not. A. Word." Grian growled softly, glaring in a way that made Doc shudder.

God, was he slightly drunk?

"Relax, I won't say anything…for a price."

"A...price?"

Doc hummed a yes before holding his hand out in offer, his smirk softening to something more genuine, "Come out on the dock and dance with me."

Sensing the other man's immediate protest, Doc held up a single finger, "One dance. Just you and me, the crews all in the tavern drinking their giddy asses off." Holding out his hand once more, Doc held out hope, "What do you say, hm? Let bygones be bygones?"

Grian held his breath, his heart fluttering in his chest as his eyes flickered between the captain's hand and face; searching for any trace of ulterior motives. Yet all that seem show was a man who was making a small request.

Sighing deeply, Grian hesitantly took Docs hand, "One dance and just one. Any wandering hands or wrong moves and I swear I'll shove you into the water with zero hesitation." While his tone was joking, he could tell Doc had taken it seriously, "I promise, no funny business…"

Walking off the boat, Doc took off his coat, draping it over a barrel before following Grian to the end of the Deck.

As he went to stand beside the blonde, Doc couldn't help but notice how nervous he seemed.

Resting a hand on his bicep, Doc sent Grian a reassuring smile, "Relax..it's just a dance. As much as I adored fighting with you before, this is supposed to be a break from all that. Okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Grian nodded, "Good. Now, ready?" Turning to the smaller male, Doc slid one hand to take Grian's, and the other gently gripping his waist. Grasping the captain's hand, Grian reached with his opposite hand to hold his shoulder.

Slowly, the two began to dance to the quiet music from the tavern, the moonlight guiding their steps as their movements became so in sync they were moving at one.

As time lost meaning to them, Doc's arm slipped to wrap around his back, pressing them together. Their bodies flush against one another, they seemed to get lost in eachother, Grian's head resting on Doc's chest.

Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces as the world around them seeming to lose all meaning.

To Grian, Doc smelt of sea salt, bourbon, and gunpowder- reminding Grian of a victorious battle at sea. His body was incredibly warm compared to the night chill, making Grian not want to let go. The tender way he held him made Grian's head dizzy, and the softness in his eyes made his knees shake.

Those butterflies in his stomach were worse than ever.

To Doc, Grian smelt of lilacs, salt water, and roses- reminding Doc of a flower garden in the spring. His body was shivering from the night chill, and it only made Doc want to hold him closer and allow him more warmth. The way he clung to him with such trust had him reeling and the relaxation in his form made Doc want to scoop him up, lock him in the safety of his cabin, and keep him forever.

"Grian?"

Liftng his head, the blonde looked up at the creeper, a soft, far off haze in his eyes, "Hmm…?"

In the light of the moon, Grian looked almost heavenly. His soft cheeks flushed a soft pink, lips slightly pouted with the corners upturned in a coy smile, and hair a beautifully wind blown mess.

"I-I...Well, I…" Doc's voice trailed off as he began to slowly lean forward, heart leaping as he realized Grian was doing the same.

Too lost in the moment, the two didn't notice they were edging closer to the edge until it was too late. Just before their lips touched, they slipped.

With a shout from both of them, they fell into the icy cold water.

Doc was quick to act, tugging Grian to follow him to shore as they emerged on the beach soaking wet.

Doc shuddered, only mildly bothered by the freeze, "Dammit- I should have been paying attention I-" He stopped as he looked at Grian, realizing how violently he was shaking on the ground.

Quickly, the captain scooped Grian into his arms and ran to the dock again, holding the shivering ball to his chest.

"We have to get you warm, fast…"

Picking up his dry coat, he headed to his quarters, nudging the door open before setting him down on a chair.

He quickly peeled the soaked vest and shirt off Grian before draping his coat over his shoulders. He scooped him up once more before placing him in the bed, wrapping him in blankets, "There. Nice and cozy. Better?"

His face flushed, Grian nodded softly, embarrassed over the fact the captain was so quick to baby him.

"Y-Yea...uh...thanks…" Doc let out a relieved sigh before leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to Grians forehead, "Good. You can sleep here for tonight, I'll sleep on the sofa…" He gestured to the lounge seat against the wall as he walked to the door, humming, "Stay warm, alright?"

"O...okay…"

Just before he left, Doc smiled softly at Grian, "Oh, and Grian?"

"Huh?"

"I'd...love to do that again some time. Dance that is- without the whole falling in freezing water, that is."

And with a chuckle, he was gone before Grian could say, 'What about you?'

Reaching and touching the locket around his neck, Grian felt his cheek grow warmer at each time Docs words played in his head, those butterflies acting up in his stomach again.

But this time…

Maybe those butterflies weren't so bad.

#docm77 #grian #GriDoc #pirateau #hermitshipping

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fandom-collective-writers · 4 years

Text

Sweet Touches

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Mitsuhide x MC

Prompt: Let me show you why you should stay in bed.

Warning: Angst, slight smut, happy ending, mention of pregnancy

Requested by: Whalebubblez

Written by: kiarigirl

Word Count: 1985

Summary: After a bit of a misunderstanding, can Mitsuhide come to see that his mouse is all that he needs in his life?

A/N: I adore Mitsuhide but for some reason he was not giving me the smut I wanted. Sorry if this in anyway feels forced.

The morning sun was rising and outside the door to Mai's room the sound of maids and vessels could be heard. She groaned into the chest of her lover as she tried to wake him from his slumber. She wasn't embarrassed to be sleeping with Mitsuhide, but it was such a new relationship that nobody else knew about it and she kind of wanted it to stay that way for a little while. "Mitsuhide, time to wake."

He groaned as his hand wrapped around her wrist. With a gentle tug, the white haired warlord pulled Mai over top of him. His eyes remained shut, but he could see her nonetheless. "Quiet little mouse, it's too early to get up." He pressed his lips to her, quieting the protest he knew she'd lodge otherwise.

Mai didn't fight off Mitsuhide's kisses, but instead waited to make her case. She shivered at the way his tongue invaded her mouth. Their tongues danced with the other as it was the most natural thing to do.

The kiss broke after only seconds leaving both a little speechless. When the princess regained her wits, she looked to Mitsuhide's face. "Please, if you do not go, the others will discover that we are lovers." There was an urgency and sense of fear in her voice, which made Mitsuhide's eyes open wide.

"Why do you worry if they find out? Do you feel ashamed of being my woman?" His voice masked the hurt he felt deep inside his heart. How could he not have seen that the princess was ashamed? He rolled away from her, refusing to let her see how he had crushed his heart.

Mai caught a glimpse of the hurt in the Mitsuhide's eyes and grabbed his wrist. When he turned to look back at her, she shook her head. "You're wrong, Mitsuhide. I am not ashamed, in fact, I am quite proud and happy to be your woman.” To emphasize her words she pressed her lips against his. Her brow furrowed and wrinkles of distress stretched across her face when he did not kiss her back.

Seconds ticked by as an uncomfortable silence drifted over the warlord and his lady. Neither one knew just what they wanted or how to fix the situation they suddenly found themselves in. After what felt like an eternity, Mitsuhide rose to his feet. He quickly dressed and without sparing even a single glance to Mai, departed the princess’s room. Once outside the door, tears he had not known he was holding back, began to fall. It was to him, like a knife had been plunged into his heart and twisted. The hand that held the blade was the little mouse, and yet he could not hate her.

Days passed in the castle with both staying too busy to address what had happened. Mitsuhide took the first chance to put distance between himself and Mai by fleeing to Kyoto. Mai had taken up extra jobs with the seamstresses.

No one really noticed the change around Azuchi Castle until the night Mitsuhide returned. An immediate war council meeting was called and as chatelaine, Mai had been expected to be there. She hadn’t heard that Mitsuhide had returned, so when she saw him there, something inside of her cracked. An ache began to consume her and it took everything in her not to run to him and beg him to forgive her.

The meeting proceeded as normal with Mitsuhide revealing what he had learned to the other warlords. He dared not to look at her until Hideyoshi remarked about her looking unwell. The moment his eyes met her, fear filled him. “My lord, for once I believe Hideyoshi is right. The princess looks sick. Allow me to escort her to her room.”

All eyes in the room looked to Mai then as if curious about her health. Mai turned her face, she didn’t want them to worry over her. Sure she might have been working too hard to forget Mitsuhide, but she was fine. Right? Mai shook her head and waved her arms. “I’m fine really. There is no need to make a fuss over it. I have just been a little stressed. I will rest and be good again in the morning,” she assured the men.

Mai went to stand when a dizzy spell made her wobble and her knees give out. Mitsuhide had leaped like a pouncing tiger to catch her. With her cradled in his arms, the white haired warlord carried Mai back to her room without a single complaint from the others.

Groggily, Mai began to wake up. Her eyes fluttered open only to realize that it was now night time. She scooted up until she was sitting with her back against the wall. In the faint moonlight she could just make out the silhouette of her lover. “Mitsu--?”

Her voice was dry and sounded as if she had been crying. That was something he hadn’t expected to hear. Mai was, to him at least, the strongest person he knew. She had given up her life in the future to stay back with him in a war torn nation that could not promise her anything. Mitsuhide turned and walked over to the futon he sometimes shared with the princess. “Are you alright? I am… I’m worried about you. You collapsed so suddenly.”

She nodded her head in silent response to him. All the things she wanted to say to him seemed to catch in her throat. “I’m… yes, I’m okay.”

Mitsuhide smiled and climbed into the futon next to her, his arms wrapped around her softly. “You need to rest. Come lay back down beside me.” He didn’t wait for her to agree, rather he slid her lithe form down until she was resting against his side.

Tears welled in her eyes then sobbed joined the cacophony that fell from her lips. “Please don’t hate me. I didn’t mean for this to happen, Mitsu. I thought we were safe.”

He looked at her face and even in the diminished lighting that danced about the darkened reaches of the room he could see her distress. What could make his love so sad and worried that she thought he’d hate her? With the pad of his thumb, Mitsuhide brushed away her tears. She was a silly mouse he thought to himself. “Just tell me what’s wrong. Why would I ever hate you?”

Mai shook her head and pressed her face into his chest. Between whimpers and sobs, she spilled the secret to why she looked unwell and why she thought he would hate her. “I’m… I really didn’t mean to get pregnant.” She continued to hide her face in his kimono.

Was it his? If not, then which man had stolen away his princess, his petite and fragile mouse? Torn between worry for Mai and anger that anyone would do this to her, he had to remain calm. Being upset would not make the situation change. He asked in a soft whisper, “is it mine?”

She nodded her head showing no sign of hurt that he’d ask such an audacious question. Seconds ticked by as all Mai could hear or feel was the calm beating of Mitsuhide’s heart and breathing.

“I’m here,” he said in a reassuring tone. He was going to be a father; him, a dad.

Morning came at last; the sun wafting lazily into the room where the princess and her warlord slept. She tried to unwind Mitsuhide’s arms and legs from around her, but found that he didn’t like that idea much. His discontented grunts pleaded with her to just “please don’t move away from me.” When finally she managed to dislodge half of her body she sat up.

Mitsuhide’s eyes opened with great reluctance. Her words still etched into his weary mind. “Come lay back down. I’m not ready to let you go.”

“But the others,” she sighed in protest.

“Let me show you why you should stay in bed.” He didn’t care if the others knew or not, what he cared about was showing her that he loved her and that even if the baby she was now carrying had not been planned, he would love her still. His hand wrapped around hers as he guided her fingers to his hardened cock. “Tell me, lil mouse, does that feel like hate to you? That is what you do to me and I demand you take responsibility for it.” There was a hint of mischief and laughter in his words.

Mai gasped as if only then realizing that in her moment of upset the night before she had confessed to him. He was right, his body didn’t show signs of hate or anger at the situation. She nibbled her lip and pushed open her lover’s kimono. If he wanted her to be responsible for what was happening to his body, she’d do it, just as she’d expect him to be responsible for her. Mai wrapped her fingers firmly around his erection and began to stroke him.

He closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of her delicate stroking motion. Soft grunts slipped over his lips to fill the otherwise silent room. “Princess, tell me what you want. I can’t give you anything if you don’t say it to me.” He wasn’t the type to take and not give back.

“Just let me please you for the moment. Others will awaken soon--.”

“You’re still worried about the others finding out?” He chuckled at her before pulling open her kimono. “Then, let them find out. I want you screaming my name until the whole castle awakens to your voice.” He pulled her onto his lap, his cock sliding easily into her cunt. A shudder ran through him and he turned his eyes to Mai’s face.

The look on her face as her body shivered was nothing less than angelic. A silent yes resonated from her bobbing head. She pressed her fingers into his muscular chest as she lifted her hips up slowly. Mitsuhide’s fingers clung to her hips like she was a life preserver, but that didn’t stop her from moving. Soon her hips had found their rhythm as she impaled herself on his hard member over and over again.

The constant slapping of slick skin, soft moans and deep groans make up the melody that began to seep through the thin walls of the castle. A tightening in his groin told Mitsuhide just how dangerously close he was to cumming inside of his lovely woman, but she was not singing loud enough for him. He used his weight and rolled the pair of them onto Mai’s back. “Sorry, little mouse, but I want you crying out in pleasure, so let me take control.”

Minutes later as far away as the kitchen the sound of Mai screaming in ecstasy could be heard. Maids blushed and tittered at the sound. “They must have made up last night,” said one waifish maid.

Another, slightly older maid, shook her head and pretended not to hear the chatelaine. There had been rumors floating around the castle but until that moment, no one could prove anything. Maybe the castle would get back to normal.

Back in the princess’s room, Mitsuhide continued thrusting deep into the princess as drops of sweat fell onto her. “So close, little mouse, so very close.” It was too late to worry about her getting pregnant. He leaned down, pressing his lips violently to hers before cumming. There was a demand for her to open up to him as he urged his tongue into her mouth. His body jerked as he lost all control, but he had never felt so happy in all his life.

A short time later, the happy couple untangled themselves from each other in order to deal with what would be an afternoon full of questions, concerns and lecturing.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen smut #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen fanfic #a little angst #Maybe request

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ahatintimepieces · 4 years

Note

Maybe something with tardigrade song or the moss ,by Cosmo sheldrake? All his songs are pretty whimsical

Many feelings right now, post-writing, and 1) Never heard this music before this morning and now The Moss is forever embroidered into my being, 2) This got way outta hand and finally 3) THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS I surely hope I captured the whimsy at least a little! Please enjoy!

“Legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees,” Hattie reminded herself as she looked out at the columns of frosted stone, perched on top a giant, frozen wishing well. Or maybe just a well. It was too frozen to tell if golden wishes fell into this well. And it was too frozen to see if there was moss on the crystalline trees.

“Well, legend has it when the rain comes down, all the worms come up to breathe,” a squeaky voice of a dozing, floating raccoon bequeathed.

Hattie looked up, spotting the crown pon on the cap of the raccoon clinging to its pillow. The rift was overrun by these sleeping fellows who whispered in their dreams of fables and things.

“Well, legend has it when the sunbeams come, all the plants, they eat them with their leaves.” Hattie readied herself and leapt forward. The stone column cracked beneath her and began to sink. With a jolt of fear, she immediately jumped to the next one, flying beneath the raccoon who dropped to squash her. She wacked it with her umbrella and pilfered the pon before jumping to a cluster of cold leaves before the stone column crumbled beneath her.

The raccoon fell with the stone and Hattie panted, before catching the shine of the parchment below.

Careful, she descended the stairs of slippery leaves. Her boots scuffed the icy blue branches before she stooped down and gathered the page that was one piece of one puzzle of a forest of spirits and souls and sleepy spiders and dwellers. Swiftly, she tucked the page away and ascended the stairs and stone.

Paying pons in exchange for escaping the ice and moss-less trees, Hattie jumped into the pipe and dropped into a new level, finding shadows trapped in glass vessels.

“Well, legend has it that the world spins round on an axis of 23 degrees,” Hattie breathed. She examined the scene before her with confusion and barely jumped back before an inky-black octopus with waving tentacles emitted a ring of combustion.

“But have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moon?” A smaller shadow asked in a raspy voice as she incapacitated the octopuses and raccoons. “Or the cow that hopped the planets while straddling a spoon?”

Hattie shoved the crown pons into her pocket as the other smaller shadow chimed in, its form looking like a carnivorous plant in one moment before wavering into the form of a dragon with a pointed beak just as its twin.

“Or she, who leapt up mountains while whistling up a tune and swapped her songs with swallows while riding on a broom?” The dragon bloom cooed.

Hattie shook her head, the movement causing her to spy a space in the wall with an opened door. She wandered over to find wooden planks leading down into the center of the structure perched in a murky moor. She jumped down and came to a dark room sparse save for a handful of shelves stacked with books. Another parchment puzzle piece shone but its shine was swallowed by the surrounding shadowy nook. She swiped the storybook page and retreated from the dark, jumping up the steps with calculated arcs.

Before she could reach the final pipe opening with hissing smoke, the middle shadow shaped like a sea serpent with spiraling tail and spiked shadows and short snout spoke.

“Well, we can all learn things, both many and a-few from that old hunched-up woman who lived inside a shoe,” the shadow whispered with a scarlet star blinking where its eyes usually sat black as tar.

Hattie paused, waiting for further explanation but the serpent seemed as petrified as a mask, the shadows shifting behind the curved glass. She dove through the final pipe and came to a raft, adrift in a sea of murky mist with distant trees shivering as if caught in a draft.

Focusing on her task to reclaim her time pieces, she cracked open the violet rift and it shattered along creases with collective whispers of the subconscious forest, asking if she could learn something from the puzzle pieces. Or…

Or the girl that sang by day and by night she ate tear soup,

Or the man who drank too much and he got the brewers’ droop?

The whispers begged her to understand, but the hatted child grabbed her hourglass and disappeared before knowledge could land.

Hattie returned to the forest and gingerly tucked the time piece away. Curious, she took out the pages of the storybook crafted by memories in the rift and went about her day.

Following the cobblestone path, she scanned the title page with a claw mark through a broken heart. A gaggle of subconites trotted over to her, following and asking if she wanted to join them in their game of sharing stories and art. One lifted his mitten hand to his chest, his light glowing as he pressed.

“Come listen, all ye fair maids, to how the moral goes,” he declared dramatically as Hattie mostly ignored him to scan the next page of a prince and a princess holding hands with hearts round their golden crowns, looking proper and prim.

“Nobody knew and nobody knows,” another subconite chimed in while the next chapter showed the princess in her crown meet the children in town covered with masks and hoods standing in rows.

Hattie glanced towards the hooded figures around her, dread welling up as they casually continued their recounting of characters.

“How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes, or how the Dong came to own a luminous nose,” the first subconite said while they walked. Meanwhile, the princess saw her prince’s palm clasped with a maiden of strawberry-rose locks.

“Or how the Jumblies went to sea in a sieve that they rowed,” a quiet third subconite sounded like they were smiling as Hattie stared, wide-eyed at the page of the princess’ heart shattering and her tears freezing, all framed by her golden hair.

“And came to shore by the Chankly Bore where the Bong-trees grow.” The girl with the rose-colored braid held up her hand, revealing a coin that might have once fell into a well made for wishing while the prince turned to see his princess fleeing.

“Where the Jabberwocky’s small green tentacles do flow, and the Quangle Wangle plays in the rain and the snow,” a noose dripping blue called from above in a haunting tone, causing the subconites to scatter with child-like screams and leaving Hattie alone.

Hattie stopped walking, steps faltering. Shadow tentacles rose around the green-garbed princess in droves while the prince tried to reach out, desperate to dismiss the princess’ doubt.

Pondering the woods, Hattie trembled, finding the story too terrible to continue. The shadow dragon blooms, the sleeping raccoons, the subconites and the cold, endless night that clung with the clefted moon. The young pilot charted stars, not stories withstanding; how was she to make sense of this pictured misunderstanding?

As if hearing her distress, a shadow appeared with a clasped claws and Cheshire grin. He twisted around her, wondering what was causing the child such chagrin.

Pressing the storybook to her chest, concealing the tale, she appeased, “Legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees.” But nothing grew in the phantom forest. Crinkling her nose, she continued her pleas, “Well, legend has it when the rain comes down, all the worms come up to breathe.”

But the shadow reminded her for breath the dead have no need.

“Well, legend has it when the sunbeams come—”

There was no need in the forest of spirits for the light of the sun.

“—all the plants, they eat them with their leaves…” Hattie trailed off in grief. In a final plea, she said, “Well, legend has it that the world spins round on an axis of 23 degrees.”

The soul Snatcher widened his smile and began to beguile her scientific theses.

“But have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moon?” He dove into the trees and puppeted shadows in a haphazard cartoon. The rabbit looked more like a man sewing cow plushies in a crescent room. “Or the cow that hopped the planets while straddling a spoon?”

Snatcher popped out of the trees and snatched Hattie’s hat, disappearing up in the leaves and forcing her to pursue with grappling hook threaded through the noose.

“Or she, who leapt up mountains, while whistling up a tune,” Snatcher continued, twirling her hat on his finger in an animated loop. “And swapped her songs with swallows while riding on a broom.” He winked, tossing her hat back and summoning her contract to remind her of her tasks.

Hattie furrowed her brows and held out the storybook with memories cruel and true.

“Well, we can all learn things, both many and a-few,” she repeated the morals whispered in the rift as she mused, “from that old hunched-up woman who lived inside a shoe.” She turned the page to reveal the final clue, “Or the girl that sang by day and by night she ate tear soup.”

The phantom froze and the girl gripped the page, both staring at the shadow depicted in his cage. Crown discarded; tears pooled in the eyes of the prince fooled into thinking love over sorrow could rule.

Hattie turned to the ending, the final picture that explained the strictures of the woman in the manor.

Petrified by the page, the phantom swallowed thickly as he added bitterly, explaining the story of jealousy’s cold coup, “Or the man who drank too much and he got the brewer’s droop.”

“Snatcher.” Hattie reached out but the ghost of the prince fled in one fell swoop.

#a hat in time #megxolotl #ahit hat kid #ahit snatcher #my writing #song lyric drabbles #im SO PECKING BAD AT POETRY BUT MY ONE DUMB BRAINCELL WAS LIKE NO WAIT I HAVE AN IDEA #ALSO I FREAKING LOVE THIS SONG #I WENT A LITTLE OVERBOARD WITH THIS ONE IM SORRY #BUT ALSO THANK YOU FOR INTRODUCING ME TO THIS GUY IN GENERAL OH BOY #i need to lie down now that took a lot out of me #but also i loved writing it a lot so i hope it's just as fun to read?#prose poetry my good friends #is not my forte but boy to i love it

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indestinatus · 4 years

Text

Something Blue (part 4/15)

Please read it in AO3, this fic has soundtracks.

Summary: Now that Ziva is safe and can return to her family… Tony doesn’t waste any time. She’ll need to have something blue to go along with a white wedding gown.

“Have we died and reached paradise or am I dreaming?” asked Nick looking up to the clear blue sky.

The team stood assembled at the bridge that connected the sea to the island, every single one of them laughing after dancing non-stop to the songs from the boat. Their tongues tasted of bubbly champagne and citric fruit, the wind playing with their hair and the hats that scaped occasionally from their heads. The early afternoon sun was reflected on the slow waves of the pier, seagulls a constant subject of the light blue sky, following the passengers from the boat to the coconut trees. White painted every surface, from the large circular domes to the infinite steep stairs of restaurants and balconies, mixed between wide, ancient stone walls separating the many houses.

Bright yellow flowers colored the wooden stakes of the bridge, intertwined with olive branches and other herbs. At the end of it, a small wooden sign was placed on the sand, an arrow pointing northeast to one side of the beach, next to a message in elegant handwriting.

Welcome to our beginning. Please, have lots of fun. - love, T and Z.

Little bare feet came running towards the group, raising sand on its way as the summer air filled with giggles.

She clung to Gibbs’ leg and looked up, a few strands of hair coming loose from her braid which was swinging in the wind. She wore a little white dress with a floral pattern. A big gap-toothed smile framed her face as he raised her to his arms, receiving a sweet kiss on the cheek on return.

“Hey, Tali,” he said softly as the other members of the team greeted her as well, making her shy for a moment when she hid her face on the crook of his neck, “where’s your father?”

“On your six, boss,” a familiar voice greeted them.

Gibbs had never seen Tony look so happy. He was tanned, small freckles painting his cheekbones and a wide grin displayed on his lips. Like his daughter, he was also barefoot, a Hawaiian shirt complimenting his look along with black sunglasses which he put on his front pocket.

“Finally you’ve arrived, I was starting to doubt if my specialist on weddings would come to support my own,” he added with a smile, squeezing Gibbs’ shoulder, “I promise it’ll only be one though, I don’t have your kind of vigor, boss.”

He received a head slap in return.

“Nothing changed, uh?”

“It never will, DiNozzo.”

Gibbs put Tali down for a moment to give a proper hug on his former agent, patting his back firmly.

“You’ve done well, son,” he whispered in his ear.

“Don’t you dare me make emotional right now, I have a feeling my eyes will sweat a lot during the weekend,” Tony replied with a smile.

They let go and Tony surveyed the team, clasping his hands together.

“Now to presentations,” he continued, “my fondest, warmest, kindest welcomes, everyone, it is a pleasure to have you here. I see old faces and new faces,” he glanced at Torres and Kasie and smiled, “and me and Tali here are glad that you came all the way from DC to witness this miracle. And where is the Rapunzel of the story? Well, funny you should ask, she’s currently going mad about the color of the table cloths and if we should put lights on or off in a wedding set at sundown. Who knew crazy Israeli ninja was so fond of this kind of stuff?”

“We all knew, Tony,” said Palmer.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s why I’m marrying her,” he replied with a warm smirk, “so… she told me she’d meet you up the hill, where you’ll be staying, with lots of food and drinks as an apology. Go easy on her, she still has a wedding to attend tomorrow and I’m quite scared she’ll go entirely Daenerys before it happens. Then I’ll have to marry McGroom and fulfill his lifetime secret dream.”

“Oh, give me a break, will you,” McGee huffed a laugh, his lips turning upwards instantly.

“You’ll never have a break from me, McDad. Never. I will hunt you when we both become ghosts, chasing you around the cemetery as I scream McBoooo,” he lifted Tali in the air, tickling her sides before putting her back down on the ground.

“How long have you been holding this joke?”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Probie, now that you’re a dad of these little monsters, you’ve been quite busy, uh?” he winked to Delilah, “two of them running around the house-”

“Just you wait,” McGee replied with a grin.

“How indiscreet, McGoo, what are you-”

Abby coughed loudly, gesturing to the wooden sign with wide eyes.

“Oh, let’s get out of the sun immediately,” said Tony gratefully, “Ziva made a whole schedule we have to follow and, to be fair, it’s quite good. She should think about working with that instead of being a trained assassin.”

“Ladies, with me!” exclaimed Abby, a hand raised in the air, “I’ll be your greek tour guide for the weekend! Yaaay! We’ll go up the hill by van so we can appreciate our surroundings,” she winked to Delilah, who nodded thankfully from her wheelchair, “I’ll be the best guide there is, you’re lucky you didn’t end up with Tony.”

“Hey!” Tony complained with a smile, “no one knows how to have fun better than I do. Okay, guys and little monsters, with me! Apparently, Tali has everything already under control.”

“Mermaids!” was all Tali said, running towards Victoria next to Jimmy.

The group dispersed, going to different directions. Tony approached Ellie, who was standing next to the one of the faces he didn’t know. The guy wore a white tank top and a Panama hat, his arms sculped and a knowing smile on his lips.

“You must be the wuss,” said Tony holding his hand out.

“News fly,” Nick faltered for a moment and glanced at Ellie, cheeks a bit red.

“Wuss…?” she asked confused.

“Ziva told me you let her win a fight,” Tony intercepted with a knowing look at Bishop, “I’m impressed, rumors are she killed Houdini.”

“Houdini? As in the magician?” asked Ellie.

“She doesn’t recall all the names, she said,” answered Tony with a smile, twinkling eyes directed to Torres, “if you excuse us gentlemen, agent Bishop,” he kissed her hand, “we got to get to some donkeys.”

“DONKEYS?” asked Nick startled, a laugh escaping his lips.

“A big greek wedding, my friend, donkeys are a must.”

Tony wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders, directing him towards the right path.

“Just so you know,” he muttered in a tone only Nick could hear, “I made my own personal mission to make you tell her how you feel by the end of this weekend.”

Nick glanced to Tony, who was casting him a mischievous smile.

“Then where’s the alcohol, bro?”

“I like you already.”

°°°

“One… two… three!” Tali placed her little legs on top of Tony’s shoulders, his hands firmly gripping her ankles from below, “push the button,” he said as he held his index finger high for Tali.

She pushed it slightly with her finger, just as her father yelled “HERE WE GO!” and started to swing his body from side to side. A moment later, a loud splash could be heard across the waves, the white seafoam coloring the crystal blue water. Tony emerged with Tali wrapped around his torso, happy giggles echoing all around on a sunny afternoon.

“Uncle Tim, Uncle Tim!” exclaimed Victoria, wearing bright pink arm floats and a little floral cap, as she pointed at something underwater, “there, I can see it!”

“Where?” he looked at the place she was showing, Morgan in his arms with wet pigtails, “oh, I see it. You’ve found a big one, good job!”

He let his daughter float at the slow waves as he dived down to grab something at the bottom of the ocean.

“Ooooh,” said Victoria out loud, hands on her cheeks, “can I touch it?”

“Yes, just do it slowly, it’s a little gooey,” said McGee as he held the shining orange starfish at the girls’ direction.

Vitoria’s little finger touched it softly, but she backed away as soon as she got to know its texture.

“No, no, I don’t wanna touch it,” said Morgan as she gripped her father’s arm hard.

“It’s okay, Morgan, let’s just put it back where it belongs then, uh?”

He dived again to put the starfish at the sand bottom and surfaced a moment later, Victoria already swimming to another location to search for a new sea creature.

“First you turn your hands into a vessel, like this,” Jimmy laid one hand atop of each other, “close it tight, like you’re gonna catch water, and then blow steady between your knuckles, like this.”

A loud high pitch whistle reverberated across the rocks they were sitting when Jimmy blew inside his hand, similar to the sound of a clear flute.

“Whoah, do it again!” exclaimed Johnny, trying to mimic his hands.

“Just like the Cherokee Indians,” Jimmy repeated the whistle, now changing the notes and creating a soft melodic pattern.

The coconut trees swayed with the wind, the rays of sunshine kissing their skin and marking their cheeks with soft freckles as it descended on the horizon. Minutes stretched into hours, and time turned fake in the children’s hands. It seemed infinite. The afternoon could go on forever.

It was paradise.

A loud whistle blew from the sand, revealing Senior calling the group with an energetic wave. He walked towards Gibbs, who was sitting in the shade carving up something out of a piece of wood.

“Can’t they stay like this forever?” asked Senior, a sad note in his voice.

“No,” Gibbs replied, looking to the horizon, eyes hard and sad, “no, they cannot.”

The children came running towards the plates of strawberries and pineapple, screaming with delight and raising clouds of sand in their wake. They threw themselves on the colorful pillows scattered on the sand floor, wet bodies splashing drops of seawater all around them. Their fathers came close behind, Tony shaking his body like a wet dog making everybody laugh.

“Palmer, can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked softly, after drying Tali’s wet hair with a towel.

“Yeah, of course,” Jimmy passed the coconut to McGee and got up, going with Tony towards the sea again.

Once their feet touched the waves, Tony turned to him, arms crossed and face furrowed in concern.

“Did you have the chance to bring it? I know I shouldn’t ask you that, it’s just, I think she would-”

Jimmy opened up a smile.

“What are you talking about? Of course I did, they don’t call me a man of honor for nothing,” he replied, squeezing Tony’s shoulders slightly, “don’t worry, my friend, everything’s gonna be fine. Great, even, you’ll see.”

“I’m not worried.”

Tony raised his clear eyes to Palmer, but the harsh laugh that escaped his lips revealed otherwise. The men laughed together, patting each other in the back and walking towards the children.

“Have you ever been closer to paradise than this place?” asked Torres, sitting on the slackline he had just proudly crossed, with sunkissed skin and eyes facing where the sky met the sea.

“Did you know the definition of ‘paradise’ ultimately comes from an Iranian word that the Greeks modified into paradeisos, meaning ‘enclosed park’,” answered Ducky, a bottle of cold water in his hand, “in Hellenistic Greek, “paradeisos” was also used in the Septuagint - an early Greek translation of Jewish scriptures - in reference to the Garden of Eden. So we are staying where the word came from.“

"I’m gonna take that as a no,” Nick replied laughing.

“I’ve arrived a little bit later than I’ve expected and I didn’t have the chance to see young Eleanor,” Ducky sent an amused look to Torres, “is she well?”

“You too, Ducky? Can’t no one give me a break?”

“Oh, I’m only asking, Nicholas, you seemed rather close,” but Ducky’s eyes were not so clueless.

“I’m sorry, yeah, yeah, she’s great,” Nick replied shrugging.

Ducky let out a charming laugh, looking up to the clear sky, “I think this is the worst-case scenario for someone to give you a break, Nick. We are at the wedding of another office couple, after all.”

“Another…?”

Nick pointed his index finger to Ducky and then put it on his lips, asking for silence, “please don’t go spreading out this idea to the others, Doctor Mallard.”

He stood up and with a surfboard under his arm, Nick raced towards the ocean. The wind was perfect for surfing at the calm waves.

Ducky reclined himself on his sun lounger, taking a sip of his cold water, “oh, I think they already know, kid,” he laughed to the sky.

°°°

“To your left. No, your other left. Yeah, up a little bit. A little bit more-”

A loud crash sounded when the glass jar shattered at the tiles, flowers and candles scattering everywhere. Ziva cursed in a foreign language, already bending down to the clean the mess on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Ziv,” said a younger cousin of her, who came along with her family from Tel Aviv to eat and dance for free, as well as try to help her with the numerous decorations. She was hanging the lights up in the olive trees, but there were so many of them to coordinate with the flowers and pieces of cloth, even Ziva was a bit confused with where to put them.

“It’s okay, Sorsha, I’ll handle it later,” she replied with a smile to the young girl standing up at the ladder, a guilty expression on her face.

“We still have to set the tables and wrap the gifts and talk to the band,” proceeded Ziva exasperated, sighing tiredly with the back of her hand rubbing her forehead.

“And test the lights,” added Sorsha, who now ticked things out of a small paper list, “and see if the cake turned out okay.”

“That Odette is taking care of, you can cross it out.”

“And welcome the guests.”

Ziva stopped where she stood and turned around as soon as she recognized that voice.

“Breena,” Ziva opened a wide grin to her old friend, who came running to hug her tightly, “I’m so glad you’re all here!”

Ziva greeted every one of them with a kiss on the cheek, bending down to talk to Delilah.

“You must be the one who finally stole Tim’s lion heart,” she said with a knowing glance.

“I know, I’m still shocked from time to time,” Delilah replied with a smile.

Ziva gave her a thankful nod, and no words were needed.

“Okay. Food. You must be starving,” she came back to her worried self, tying her hair into a knot, “I just need to check a few things.”

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Jack, her professional voice taking over, “Ziva, I think you need to relax for a bit. You’re the bride, remember? How can we help?”

“Take her out of here,” declared Odette, who was guiding two people with a large flower vase nearby, hands on her hips and a meaningful smile at Ellie, “or I will myself prohibit her getting any closer.”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I think I bit more than I can screw,” said Ziva, trying to recompose herself.

“What…?” asked Kasie, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“We called it Zivaisms,” answered Abby, grabbing Ziva’s arm and leading her towards the accommodations, not caring about any response, “when Tony is not around to correct her, we just ignore the weird and move on.”

“I tend to do a lot of ignoring the weird and moving on down at that lab,” remarked Kasie.

Abby looked at her with a wide grin, then started to jump up and down, not being able to contain her excitement. She let go of Ziva to run towards Kasie and hug her tightly, while the bride just burst out laughing with the scene, finally letting herself relax.

“We have so much to talk about,” said Abby, arm wrapped around Kasie’s shoulders, “what kind of music you play there now?”

“Uh-”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m so excited there’s finally someone who understands. YAAAY!”

They walked together until they arrived at the lodgings, stationed just above the sea, the white stone balconies disappearing among the many similar others along the coast. The air smelled of sea salt, dried herbs, and the feeling of freedom of a new vacation about to start. Ziva entered the bridal room, making everyone cheer when she showed the sign of “Future Mrs.” placed at her door. A smooth wooden table filled with plates of fruit, various types of seeds and pastries greeted them, along with bottles of cold champagne and rosé wine. Across the hall, a white bed was stationed in front of a large floor to ceiling open window, the big beige curtains flying with the ocean wind.

The view was magnificent.

It was close to the sea so it was possible to discern the silhouettes of the villagers, but far enough to have some privacy. The sound of the waves could be heard all over the room as they hit the cliffs, the constant splashing a calming tune. A small dressing table was placed near the windows, seashells covering the whole surface around the mirror.

Only three objects were set on top of it.

A photograph of Rivka and Eli David, arms wrapped around each other when they were incredibly young, the Jordan mountaintops behind them. Its frame was made of pearls.

A photograph of Ziva holding her sister Tali’s hand, her brother Ari at her other side, all laughing, their bicycles laid on the ground. Its frame was made of buttons.

And a photograph of a man pointing to the camera, his eyes looking towards a little girl whose face was dirty with the chocolate ice cream she held in her hands. Tali was smiling, her baby teeth appearing through her mouth in a wide grin, dark brown eyes twinkling. Tony was also beaming, as if it was the first time he made her truly laugh.

That one she didn’t frame on purpose, the paper almost damaged with time and constant folding to pocket size. It was the most precious to her.

“Whoah, that’s a hell of a view,” said Kasie, eyebrows raised and mouth opened in an oval shape.

“Perfect, wouldn’t you say?” Abby replied, sending Ziva a naughty grin and wiggling her brows.

“Abby,” Ziva huffed a nervous laugh, her cheeks reddening in a rare moment, “this isn’t where we are going to stay for the honeymoon.”

“Why not?! It’s the perfect place, with a great view of the stars, and the sea-”

“Abby,” Ziva stopped her, “he did not want to tell me about it.”

Every woman looked at Ziva, all casting disbelieving glances at each other.

“Really?” asked Jack, “is he that good?”

Ziva smiled shyly, looking down to her feet.

“Yeah,” she answered, “yeah, he is.”

Giggles filled her room, and for the first time in her life, Ziva David was grateful to have such a great female company.

“I’m so glad that you’re here, ladies. I was getting suffocated with all the planning and the last minute decorations. At least Tony is taking care of Tali, or else she would’ve wanted to opine on everything,” she smiled with the thought.

“So, Ziva, tell us the news! How did Tony propose?” asked Ellie, sitting down at a nearby chair after Abby popped open a bottle of champagne, “we didn’t hear anything about you until the invitations arrived.”

“That… that’s a very long and funny story, but we have something more important to discuss first.”

Ziva grabbed a grape and threw it in her mouth, chewing slowly while studying Ellie, who seemed a bit nervous with the sudden turn in the conversation.

“Eleanor, will I need to give you the bouquet directly or are you already aware that Nicholas is fond of you?”

Ellie froze. Her cheeks blushed until the redness reached her ears, and she huffed a laugh while putting a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“What? No. Nick? Puff, no way. He’s… he’s just… he’s my partner. We’re coworkers, nothing will happen.”

Everyone glanced at her with a bemused look.

“You do realize what we’re doing here this weekend, don’t you, Ellie?” asked Sloane carefully, placing her hand on top of Bishop’s.

“A wedding?” Abby giggled, “Of… coworkers…?” she added.

Ellie opened up a shy smile when the women started to shake her shoulders and cheer, her cheeks turning even redder than she thought it was possible.

“Don’t worry, uh?” Ziva cast her an honest look, “just have fun and I promise you, time will tell.”

°°°

“HEY TATER TOTS,” called Nick from the water, four kids giggling behind him on the low waves, “HEY, BISHOP!”

Ellie startled where she was lying down on a sun lounger, back facing the sun and wearing a high waisted bikini set. The warmth made her head dizzy with sleep, and she was so tired from the long journey, she didn’t even notice when the back massage Ziva arranged for her ended and when she started to only sunbathe.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT, BRUSSELS SPROUTS?”

“I have a dare for you.”

She startled once again when she realized he was standing just next to her, drops of water wetting her shoulder when he bent down to whisper in her ear.

“What… what dare?” she turned around carefully, hands shading the sun from her eyes as her skin started to tingle with the sight of Nick’s silhouette against the sun.

“I dare you to do a better handstand than those kids.”

“What?” That was unexpected.

“The one with the higher score is Tali. For now. Johnny said that it was because she was older, so I told him you’re older than any of them and doesn’t know how to do a proper handstand.”

Ellie snorted a derisive laugh, taking Nick’s hand to help her stand up, “do you think Eleanor Bishop doesn’t know how to do the most simple summer thing such as a handstand?”

“You’re talking in third person, creep,” he repeated her words from hours before, racing with her towards the kids. Sounds of constant laughter and waves crashing echoed all around.

Abby had taken every one to show a little cave she found with clear hot springs inside, near the cliffs on the other side of the beach. Gibbs and Jack had gone to the opposite direction, walking in the sand until they weren’t visible anymore around the bend.

Meanwhile, Ziva had arranged back massages for her and Ellie to enjoy the little spare time she had before the big event.

She now was lying down at a recliner chair, knots on her back coming undone by the amazing hands of the venue massagist. Her maroon bikini top was untied and she rested at the shade, palm trees swaying with the wind next to her. Her mouth tasted of cold sparkling wine, the sensation of bubbles exploding on her tongue still lingering. All she could hear was the wind, the birds and the sea nearby.

“Hmmm,” she moaned as the massagist touched a particularly painful spot. Her vertebrae cracked carefully under his fingers and the muscles started to slowly relax.

It was heaven.

“Hmmm, just like that, yeah.”

“Miss?” asked the young massagist in a polite tone.

“Hmmm…?” was all she could muster.

Ziva heard the loud sound of children laughing far away, followed by one “I win!” muffled by the powerful wind. She didn’t have a clue what that might be, but she smiled softly with the thought.

The massagist’s hands left her back from a moment, the wind caressing her skin and making her shiver.

“Uhh,” he said, a nervous note distinguishable in his voice, “are you the one getting married, miss?”

His hands returned, massaging her shoulders and the back of her neck as she moaned out loud with the sensation. She was alone and didn’t care about anything or anyone, to be honest. Tony was showing the surroundings to the guests with Abby and Tali was playing in the sand with the other kids. This was her moment, and hers alone.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“And… and who is the groom?” the young man asked politely, voice now steadier once she stopped with the moaning.

“He…” Ziva did it again just to feel him stiffen, biting her lower lip as a loud sound escaped her throat, “his name is Tony. Tall guy. Talks a lot.”

This is still too easy.

It was few the moments in her life Ziva David had truly felt like a woman, only when her job demanded and when her guilty desire asked her to. Now, she had a little girl who asked her about princess’ stories and glittery clothes, a good man at her side whose eyes always landed on her filled with need and a wedding party about to happen.

With a white gown and something blue included.

It all seemed like a dream, after years running away and hiding from Sahar, she was now in this beautiful place with all her family to cherish her wedding.

The girl who ran all her life had finally found herself.

“Is he… is he here?” asked the massagist, hands trailing down her lower back with care.

“Yes, he is. Well, not now, but you know, I do hope he is at the wedding, at least.”

“Of course.”

He changed the position of his hands to press down at her calves and Ziva purred in delight. She felt him bending down to massage the back of her knee, so she moaned once again just to play with him, her sassiness on overdrive.

“Is he, you know, strong? Knows how to fight?”

Ziva’s mind filled with images of Tony with shoulder holsters and sweaty skin, and she had to bite her lip again to prevent her from muttering anything too inappropriate. Gosh, the waiting for this honeymoon would make her explode with greed until there.

“Yeah, I’m afraid he’s pretty good at it.”

The massagist hands trailed the back of her thigh, making a skip from her hips to her lower back again.

“Is he… good looking?”

“Oh,” she smiled with the sight of him in formal attire tomorrow, “oh yeah-”

Her voice abandoned her as she felt the young man bending down atop of her and doing a fast lick at the shell of her ear.

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

She quickly grasped her bikini top to turn around and stand up, wanting to punch him right away, but his body pressed her down at the chair, laying on top of her back.

He was too heavy, and for a second she couldn’t move from the position she was lying down.

She had to think fast.

She had to found a quick way out of here.

“I could ask you the same thing, Dah-veed.”

Tony’s raspy voice caressed the back of her ear just as he came closer to place a lingering kiss on the crook of her neck.

“You have no self-respect moaning like that, do you?” he grabbed her hair to position her neck how he liked, placing wet kisses from her shoulder to her earlobe, “you have no respect for the groom also, uh? You do know he’s obeying your wishes to wait until the honeymoon, don’t you?”

He kissed her neck, again and again, and again, making her dizzy and hot and sweaty. Her skin began to prickle wherever he touched and she could feel a tingling sensation starting to grow strong at the base of her belly.

“You do know,” another kiss, “that you’re driving him crazy,” another kiss, “with your bikini like that?”

She started to shiver and couldn’t take it anymore as one of his hands trailed down to grab her firmly at the waist.

“Tony, I-” a loud moan escaped her lips as he pressed his whole body hard on her back.

“He can’t. Wait. For tomorrow. Sweetcheeks,” he said slowly, the syllables leaving his lips just as he placed kiss after kiss on her neck, again and again, making her want to scream, her heart threatening to explode.

Tony planted a wet smooch on her ear, making a loud 'pop’ as he moved away, letting her turn around. An amused smirk danced on his lips as his green eyes gave an appreciate gaze down her body, waiting for her as she tied her bikini. The young massagist was nowhere to be found.

“It was you all along?”

He opened up a boyish smile, eyes growing dark as his gaze lingered on her lips a moment too long.

“Did you really think a massage that good could be done by a shaky little guy in training?”

Ziva chuckled, licking her lips as she watched Tony’s eyes carefully trace her tongue with hard focus.

“How much did you give him to ask that stuff?”

“Your habilities are faltering, Israeli, once upon a time you could sense me in your sleep just by my marvelous natural musk,” his eyes darted from her lips to her chocolate eyes, the color almost invisible as it became two completely black orbs.

The air between them was filled with electricity, the tension almost unbearable with Ziva licking her lips and Tony tracing her tongue with his eyes.

“Just kiss me already, will you?”

She opened up her mouth to welcome him, his wet tongue crashing into hers with obvious need, smooth and tasting of cold tequila. He moved closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, the other lifting to her hair as he intensified the kiss.

Ziva couldn’t think straight, she felt like she had drunk at least a whole bottle of wine, mind blank with all the senses taking over her. The warmth in her belly was spreading across her body, through her veins, and, judging by the way he was groaning into her mouth, she guessed he felt the same.

They were sweating as the lust and desire for each other scrambled on the surface and the body heat between them could cause a fire. It seemed that neither of them wanted to stop the kiss.

But it was necessary to inhale, so Tony drank in her lips for one last long moment and then released them with a soft moan. He opened his eyes and licked his lips, tasting her on them as he looked at him and saw the effect of the kiss. She banged her head once lightly against the chair, feeling completely dumbfounded and, with closed eyes, took a deep breath.

“Why did we wait so long again?” Ziva asked, voice quavering and raspy.

“I ask that myself every day,” Tony answered with a wide smile, “so do you think, HEY-”

A pair of steady hands gripped him at his shoulders and lifted him from the chair, just as another held his ankles and he started to be carried away from her.

“Not now, pal,” said Nick, holding his ankles and moving towards the other side of the beach, “you got somewhere else to be.”

"No, no, no, guys, put me down."

“A bachelor party, I think,” added Jimmy from behind, hands under Tony’s arms.

"PUT ME DOWN," exclaimed Tony, tossing in his friends' arms.

“For the one and only Anthony DiNozzo,” said McGee, winking at Ziva as she chuckled, “YOU CAN HAVE HER TOMORROW,” Tim put his hands in a shell shape, his voice echoing across the beach.

“SHE’S MINE EVERY DAY,” Tony yelled back, trying to turn his head towards Ziva but the guys didn’t let him.

“Is he drunk?” she asked, crossing her arms and eyes twinkling.

“No, he’s not,” replied McGee, a knowing smirk on his lips as he nodded towards Tony, “I think he’s just in love.”

#ncis #tiva #ellick #slibbs #tiva fanfiction #ellick fanfiction #ncis fanfiction #something blue fic #my fics #PLEASE READ IT ON AO3!!!#there is music there #very beach vibes #dads and their kids #then it gets a little hotter whoof #and I can't wait to write the next chapter #it's called 'the bachelor'

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