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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

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The Invisible String Theory

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. You didn't expect him to become so important to you, either. (Based on König's in-game backstory).

WORDCOUNT: 9.2k

WARNINGS: Human trafficking, mentions of unwanted touching, trauma, blood, gore, guns, bullets, protective!König, soft!König, nightmares, mentions of bullying, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

'DATE: 25, NOVEMBER, 2021

LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY

TIME OF EVENT: 0230

MISSION REPORT: PENDING….'

You don’t remember much from the day that could be called out of the ordinary. Ever since you’d been moved here with the other girls, everything was predictable down to the time the men would come over, to the point where the screams had to be muffled by pillows.

Never in your life did you think you’d be part of the nearly fifty million people stuck in this situation, and neither did you think you’d be the one in one hundred who got out. But before you can think about November twenty-fifth and those pale gray eyes, you have to go back to the beginning. To Al-Qatala.

You hadn’t been with this cell initially—you’d been moved around and bartered off more times than you could count; the initial founder of your predicament was long gone at this point. North and South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Oceania…you’d been practically everywhere and on every continent barring the obvious last. In Europe, you couldn’t name the countries, but you knew this for a fact: you’d never been to Germany before.

They had you with five other women in a large SUV in the beginning, this international ring of human traffickers. You had watched from the window, face blank and eyes unblinking, at the men who met near the docks. They had brought you in through Hamburg, first—not only the largest seaport in Germany but the third largest in Europe; you think you read that on a flier at some point. One of those flimsy ones that you find in gas stations with bright lettering to attract the tourists with their interesting facts.

You wished you were only a tourist.

You’d watched the men shake hands, and that was when you knew your fate, as well as that of the five other women, was sealed. You were going to all be here for a long time.

This Al-Qatala cell was ruthless, but you supposed with being around terrorists, ruthlessness was better than being executed.

For days you’d be exploited with the false promises of moments of freedom, breaks, food, and water. For some of the women it was drugs or money, but when your stomach was empty and your eyes blurring from lack of sleep, even addictions seemed to pale for brief hours. But above it all was the threat of death at every corner. These men would kill you.

It was only a matter of time unless you could give them what they wanted.

You yourself had developed a system, and it was probably the only reason you were still alive. Pick one of the handlers, gain his favor, and pray that he treats you specially while you keep up the act of a mindless, weak, woman.

Ivon was the man’s name this time around. Born and raised here in Berlin before the clutches of his fanatical ideations brought him to Al-Qatala. You hated him.

Hated his touch—hated his scent and how he talked; every bit of him was corrupted like a black dog at a crossroads, always leading people down the wrong path. Your only saving grace was that he was stupid. The other girls called you Cat—said you managed to nuzzle up to someone and soon after got them to give you what you wanted. Everything you wanted except freedom, that was.

You didn’t deny that Ivon did give you privileges, but that was the point. About a week into your stay in Berlin, he allowed you to go into public with him. Arm-candy.

A doll.

The townhouse you’d been stuck in had disappeared into a spec behind the rearview mirror, the chilled air from outside making you shiver at the lack of heat and the thin shawl you’d been thrown. No jacket.

The care of your health only extended to how well you were able to work—at the moment you were relatively healthy despite the bulge of bruises and constantly shell-shocked look behind your eyes.

But the trip—the trip. You supposed that was when it had fully started, and you didn’t even realize it before you saw those gray eyes again.

“Come,” Ivon orders, holding tightly to your arm and dragging you along from the corner shop without making a scene. Your hands loosely brush the wrack of clothes, fabric soft under your fingertips as it sways.

Fixing your shawl, you try to burrow your neck into it, gaining what little heat is available to you. It was cold out—you were shivering. People send looks, eyes tight as they shift up and down your form, but no one ever says anything. To be this bold, this cell had to have been at this for a long, long time. The realization didn’t make you feel any better.

That was when you first saw him.

You were standing outside a coffee shop, quivering like a newly hatched butterfly, Ivon making a call only a few feet away with fast motions of his arms. It was hard not to make a run for it right then and there; hard not to take those few seconds of open air and dash away—start screaming and yelling until the authorities came.

It would save yourself, but what about the others? They wouldn’t be so fortunate, you’d be sentencing them to death. None of this was simple—it needed to be thought out. Two games of chess being played at the same time.

The irony of it was that König had been off-duty that day. It had been a shot in the dark.

“Are you alright?” A thick Austrian accent makes you flinch as it appears beside your right ear, grating.

Your eyes snap to the side, moving one foot back as you blink wildly up at the blue-gray orbs that would become a staple. You liked to call it as everyone else did—the invisible string theory. A theory that stated that the universe connected people who were destined to meet one day. Through thick or thin waters, it was inevitable. He was inevitable.

“Yes,” you say quickly, holding your hands tightly around you. The man ahead of you was tall, almost startlingly so, with muscles more bulky than a boulder and his buzz-cut head open to the chilled breeze. He wore a surgical mask over his lower visage, his hoodie under the thick material of a canvas jacket. “Yes,” you say again, hearing Ivon’s voice behind you still on the phone. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Gray eyes furrow slightly, gaze darting over your head.

“Are you…sure, Ma’am?”

“Thank you for your concern,” you fake laugh, eyes pained, backing up farther. That invisible string snaps into place, pulling tight at only those few simple words.

His stature made you slightly nervous—large, intimidating; those hands could do quite the damage if given the chance. Your eyes had hit and bounced off the identity discs at his chest with little thought, too preoccupied to notice the fact that he was in the Service.

König’s eyes had narrowed softly, dark brows minutely moving in.

Ivon hangs up his phone.

“Can I help you?” He asks, coming up and sliding a hand around your waist. The man had stared at him for a long minute, and you had felt Ivon tense slowly at the unblinking eye contact.

This stranger had commented in German a long string of frim words, hands going to his jacket and grabbing at the arms—he slips out of it while still uttering.

Before you can react, the large coat swallows you whole and you snatch at the heat that’s still inside instinctually, now only realizing how much you were shivering. Your body sags into the weight of the fabric, the scent of sweat and coffee.

You don’t even pay attention to the growing tones, shocked. People look over to the two fast words being tossed.

Yet it could only last so long.

Ivon’s hand latches onto the side of your arm, beginning to drag you back and away from this kind stranger like a lap dog while throwing curses behind him. Gray eyes meet yours as old shoes skid and stumble.

König had taken a firm step towards you that day, his body tense and his hands clenched at his side—ready to do anything on a moment's notice should you ask for it. But all you do is stare, jaw loose, and the given coat still on your shoulders. You just couldn’t understand why he would do that.

The stranger gets swallowed by the crowd, and just like that, he’s gone.

That was all it had been; a moment—a few mere seconds in the large plot that was this almost impossible tale. You were glad it had been him, or else the events of the future could have been very different.

Of course, they hadn’t let you keep the jacket, but the memory was enough to warm you for days even as old pains faded and new ones took their place.

But those gray eyes would help you in the future, like a guardian; a protector in your dreams as you watched the snow fall from the sliver of outside light in your room with the others. Your mattress was on the floor like the rest, thin blankets and clouds of cold breath wafting up from sleeping forms.

This was the time it happened, and you’d just woken up to find the curtains shifting as one of the women near it moved in her sleep. Shadows slip past, the light interrupted as it shifts over your tired face with broken fractures.

You were always kept on the ground floor.

'CLEARANCE: APPROVED

TRANSLATING MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’…

STAND BY…

Operation Red Freedom took place on November twenty-fifth, 2021, at approximately 0230 in the neighborhood of [REDACTED], at the residence of [REDACTED], Berlin, Germany. A squad of ten highly trained [REDACTED] personnel covertly entered the residence in two teams of five. Fireteam One advanced from the back entrance while Fireteam Two entered the residence from the balcony at the top floor, accessed via ladder.

Squad Leader [REDACTED], part of Fireteam One, set foot in the residence of [REDACTED] at approximately 0238 and began sweeping the ground floor as Fireteam Two cleared three of twelve known individuals belonging to the terrorist organization, Al-Qatala, on the top floor….'

You shift and shiver, your body trying to warm itself as the world blurs at the sides of your vision. Fingers twitch as your hand goes to wrap your waist, curled into the fetal position, creaking emanates from above you. Blinking softly, you frown and take a quivering breath, head nuzzling the thin mattress.

“Cold,” you say, the following low exhale of air out of your lips only making it all worse as everything seems to drop another degree. The darkness didn’t help either, only that one line of light trying desperately to fill the room like a bucket descending into a dry well.

You’re only clothed in the dirty and tattered remains of a large shirt, your legs feeling like they don’t hold any blood in them as they quiver without your knowledge—shaking the blanket above you. A few of the girls had said it would be okay to share, but everyone was afraid of the lock on the door clicking open and the men coming back in and seeing them. In the end, you could only look after yourself.

A thump makes you startle, drooping eyes snapping back open as you gasp.

Head shifting, you blink rapidly upward to the ceiling, confused as to whether that had been a part of a failing mind or if you’d really just heard a muffled bump upstairs. Brows furrowing, you lightly sit up, hands still around yourself and legs limply outward; spine hunched.

Your fingers had lost feeling, just as your nose had gone numb, but moving helped a little. Your hands dig into your flesh and your ears twitch at every creak in the wood—every pass of silent feet that suddenly becomes all the clearer as the sheen of fatigue slowly leaves your brain.

Walking? Small pains move along your body like needles, poking and prodding, but you ignore them as easily as you do the vile hands that had touched you. Survival had forced you into a constant state of self-preservation—pain couldn’t bother you, because if you stopped, you wouldn’t get back going again.

Your head tilts so you can side-eye the door to the room, sleeping forms all around shifting, singular groaning of tired lungs. But there’s something inside of you that stiffens like a prey animal, and you don’t know why. Inside of your sockets, your eyes hone in, bones stiff and your chest stilling as the grain becomes the most interesting thing to you beyond breathing.

There was someone….out there.

Watching, the sides of your vision shadow over to focus harder, your muscles tight. Your mind goes to the thumps from upstairs, the moving feet that sounded far more careful and deliberate than the ones your jailors took care to walk with.

Inside your ribs, your heart patters a bit faster, adrenal glands sending a certain flight or flight through the few veins you hold that aren’t chilled over.

Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.

Only when you move to shake the shoulder of one of the women sleeping beside you does it happen.

A yell.

A scream.

The girls in the room all startle awake, sounds of concern and shock entering the air that you mirror; faces snapping to the ceiling and the door. The townhouse erupts into gunfire and the sound of slamming wood—a warzone that only is separated from all of you by the thin material of the four walls.

You feel yourself being grabbed and held in fear in the dark, as your open face holds the expression of a rabbit in an open field, looking along the long, hidden grass.

The sounds persist, loud German shouts going up over the house and echoing with heated fever. This continues for minutes, added in with the sound of doors breaking off hinges, bouncing off the ground, and shaking the foundation so hard that you can feel it reverberate. The women go silent. Stone-still.

But the gunfire—so much gunfire. The constant pop of assault weapons and a pound of multiple booted feet.

What was going on? You can't make sense of it, so you only freeze and listen; trying to understand the longer the fight goes on, heart hammering; mouth slack-jawed. And then it’s like it never happened.

Silence.

You share quick looks with the others, all gripping one another and heads angled to the door. The heavy feet start back up again, coming closer. Your mind slashes to the window across the room, but it’s hard to think beyond the sudden body that shakes the door that leads directly to you all—the women scream, some standing up and racing to the glass with the same idea as you.

'…Squad Leader [REDACTED], and both Fireteams successfully eliminated all targets inside of the [REDACTED] residence, leaving the room occupied by known hostages last to prevent casualties and/or the usage of bargaining chips. Squad Leader [REDACTED] made contact with hostages at approximately 0244 after the final sweep of the townhouse had been completed and all personnel accounted for.

Local authorities had been contacted by neighbors due to noise but were dismissed.'

The door busts off its hinges and the room devolves into panicked yells and hurled bits of mattress material. Loud pleas and curses stuck like gums to teeth as they were forced out in fear and bone-crushing terror. You remember pushing back into the wall, many others doing the same, as a beast of a man enters the room with his face covered with a loose fabric hood of some sort.

Large—brutish. Like a demon walking with the color of black printed over his entire body; gear hangs from a combat vest, hands holding an assault rifle as a sidearm is strapped to his bulging thigh. Forearms the side of your head stays near his chest, and in order to not hit his head on the doorframe, the individual has to bend slightly. Over that hood, the lenses and head-gear of a night-vision rig sit heavily before it’s moved back with a firm hand that is nearly double the size of yours.

A monster.

Your entire being is tight with quivering tension, eyes blinking away tears at the smell of blood that rolls in from the hallway. The women at the window duck down, hands to their heads as if expecting a bullet to carve its way between their skulls.

“Cat,” one of the ladies behind you mutters, voice quivering. You shush her on bitten lips and move her farther behind you.

“Don’t speak,” you mutter. “Don’t move.”

You don’t know what you expect, but nothing about this is correct.

The man raises his hands, the rifle slapping his chest as it hangs from a strap. He speaks in German, and the heavy and fast noise of it makes your already addled head spin. No one answers beyond the slide of their own feet over the hardwood floors.

“Ich heiße König,” his head swivels from one to another, “Sprichst du Deutsch? Irgendjemand?”

You stare blankly, panting.

After a moment, and a slow step forward from the stranger, he speaks again, though this time, it’s in English.

“My name is König.” His voice is familiar to you, and you blink in confusion quickly, hidden near the back of the shaking bodies. “I am with the German Military, yes? We have conducted a raid on this residence.”

Military? Raid?

“...I am not here to hurt you.” He nears one of the women, beginning to bend down slowly. She squeaks, balking back—making him tense and halt. It didn't matter what he said, König was the epitome of a man who was intimidating on body alone; the gear wasn’t helping. Neither was the hood.

A soldier appears in the doorway, calling out to him in his native language as you flinch at the noise.

König calls back calmly, trying to keep an air of gentle strength around him.

The second soldier comes inside, dressed similarly despite the lack of fabric over his visage which instantly puts many at ease again. He clears his throat as König steps back, gargantuan hands coming up to rest at his vest collar as his legs shift. He seems a bit put off at the fearful stares from everyone, rolling his shoulders for a moment as he turns his head to look out of the doorway.

Your eyes don’t move from him, though. A nagging feeling in the back of your skull.

“We have to leave this place,” the second soldier tells you all, kneeling and resting a hand over his knee. “We’ll get you medical attention. Food. Water. There’s no need to suffer here any longer, hm? We can see to it that all of you will get the best care that can be provided.” A pause. “We can get you back home.”

That certainly got the attention that was needed.

Meek questions started falling out, then louder ones before pandemonium was roused in that tiny room pushed to the very back of the townhouse. Home. It was a word that had almost lost all meaning but was still that constant shining light in the back of everyone’s mind.

Home.

Did you even have one of those left?

As the rest of your fellows all got to their feet, taking you with them, you had to think over that fact as the soldier guided them gently out of the room to join the others waiting—trying to answer their questions and get them away from the gore before they saw it.

You stayed behind, feet shifting over the floor and your lips thin. As the silence settles in, you hold yourself a bit tighter and glance at the mattress all mashed together and stained—those thin blankets as you shiver.

“Are you alright?” Your head snaps over.

You’d forgotten about König.

He still stands there, still and with his hands at his collar; he clears his throat softly, speaking up from his low utterance. “Please…do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you say tinily, your voice cracking in the lie.

You can’t see his eyes—not with the shadow from his hood or his head rig, but you can see the way his skull lightly tilts to the side, trying to see you better in the low light.

“That is good,” he answers, not convinced. “I’m glad. I did not wish to scare anyone.” He moves back and motions with a hand to the door from where they hang. “Please. It is best not to linger, yes?”

“Do I…” you hesitate, shivering. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

König’s face isn’t visible, but you can still sense the feeling of confusion leaking out of him. The man takes a small step closer, and you gaze up at him until his eyes are visible.

Blue-gray.

You stare, mouth parting in shock.

König blinks twice, quickly making a noise in the back of his throat at the sight of your eyes gazing into his—the same woman outside of the coffee shop from days ago.

That little invisible string pulls you closer, small millimeter by small millimeter.

“You?” You both say it at the same time, laced with surprise and shock.

It’s a long moment of gazing into each other, a battered body and another more strong than an ox. All fear of the man dissipates.

“You gave me your jacket,” you whisper, still torn up about it.

König’s hood shifts as he glances back to the door, German speech over the radio strapped to his chest which he takes in and processes in the back of his skull. But he always looks back at you, eyes crinkled with concern and perhaps even a bit of misplaced guilt.

A protective knife sides into his side.

“Come.” The man reaches out a hand, hovering it over your arm. You stare at the gloved limb for a moment before softly moving towards it with your breath caught in your throat, hesitant. König’s fingers delicately slide over the flesh, not closing around it until he feels your muscles loosen. “...Let’s get you warmer, Schatz, yes?”

You blink.

“It’s cold here,” you mutter, letting him guide you along, his gray orbs always keeping you in the side of his vision.

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding. “Very cold. Have you been to Germany during the winter before?”

Your head slightly shakes, bare feet padding along next to the pair of great boots—you lean closer unconsciously to the promise of warmth. König guides you away from the seeping blood on the floor and protects your eyes from the view of the bodies across the room with his own as a guard dog would.

“No.” He notices your leaning and brings you nearer to him, letting you use him as a brace. The man knows the effects of shock, and you wear it as plainly as any other. “I’ve never been here before.”

König hums and his free hand goes up to press into the radio, muttering in his native tongue. He releases the connection and asks as he blinks at you, “Do you require any immediate medical attention?”

Again, you shake your head.

“Where are the others?” You sink further into him, being guided to the front door, open to the soft snowfall and a chilled wind as your shoulder hunch.

“Just outside,” König glances at the bodies across the room—the ones he’d riddled with bullets that still twitch even as the minutes draw longer. Gray eyes going from one to another, the house is heavy with the weight of dead men. Twelve in total and all getting colder just like the temperature outside. König didn’t feel bad about it, and when he’d finally busted open that door to find you and the women, he was satisfied with the blood on his hands. If hell were to be his home, he would walk there with a golden-fanged smile.

But now wasn’t the time for that.

“I will bring you to them,” the soldier speaks, snow blowing in from the entrance. “Slowly, now, Schatz, watch the steps. Allow me to help.”

You stop at the doorway, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover a haggard cough as König makes his way down the first concrete step ahead of you—large armored vehicles had pulled up from a ways away. The women huddle around one another, the rest of the soldiers sticking by them and opening the doors to the vehicles as the night gets only more cold and stormy.

Gray eyes flicker for a moment down to your lack of proper protection, fingers twitching and tapping at his thigh as König remembers your expression the day he’d first met you.

“Do you want me to carry you?” He says slowly, cautious in his approach. The man wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t touch you unless you explicitly stated it was alright for him to do so. “I will be gentle, I promise. I do not wish for your feet to freeze, I...” He pauses as you blink, staring into his soul. “I…will not touch you if you do not tell me to do it. You have my word.”

You continue to stand there for a moment, face unreadable before your head slowly turns to the vehicles in the street.

The neighborhood was so normal it still caused you to wonder how no one had spoken up and seen something. Rows of connected houses now with their lights on—faces peeking from the windows like little children on Christmas morning; trying to get glimpses of Santa and the man’s reindeer.

Finally, your gaze moves back to the hooded visage of König, able to see it better under the moonlight and the glare of falling snowflakes—a few of those frozen pieces sitting in the folds of the fabric.

“The hood scared them,” you utter about the others. König stiffens a bit, blinking at you but not looking away. “They’re used to people trying to hide their faces, but yours…with how large you are…”

“I understand.” König doesn't tear away his eyes. “...Did I scare you, Schatz?”

You don’t know why, but for what seems like the first time in years, the question makes you giggle. The beast of a man goes still with his feet on the ground, usually jittery and moving body captivated by the sound as it echoes over the night’s air—the puff of your breath as it moves around his hood; rustling it like leaves on a tree.

Eyes widening only a sliver more, König’s breath is in his throat.

It was like listening to a bird’s song.

“Maybe only a little,” you whisper to him. “But it’s okay. I’m scared of most things.”

He licks his lips, but you’re unable to see the slight quirk of them afterward.

“Then I will make it up to you, yes?” He holds out a hand. “Let me? The car is warm and your friends are waiting for you. My men say they ask about your health.”

You softly nod, the shadow of the house trying to drag you back into it—its blackened arms reaching and latching onto old scars. When your hand connects with König's, the man takes his time putting one foot back to a step and scooping you up from behind your knees. With a tiny grunt, you settle at his chest, calming your heartbeat with the fact that you know he won’t hurt you.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

In his arms, your bare legs hang in the air, hand wrapping his neck, and with a slightly nervous look to you as your body hovers. König watches for a moment, hesitating before he begins walking to the same vehicle the other woman had been moved into out of the snowfall.

“Can you tell me your name,” he asks to distract you from his hold, to get you more comfortable with him as his boots crunch through the packed powder on the ground—making sure to watch his step so as to not jostle you.

“Everyone calls me Cat.” Gray eyes blink your way, visible skin painted black. König’s head tilts. You can’t help but find it endearing.

“Katze?” He hums, and you can imagine his lips moving slightly upwards from the innocent tone of his voice as if taken by the strange moniker. “That is…interesting.”

You huff tinily, shivering again as your body moves to curl a little more.

The soldier quickly reassures you. “Nearly there.”

The vehicle is in front of you, and a nearby man opens the door for König as he carries you over. Nodding in thanks, the large individual eases you into one of the seats as the blast of warm air makes you sag—the other woman in there mulls closer, grabbing onto you and laughing through tears.

Looking back at them, you smile and feel yourself get a bit teary-eyed as everything starts to slowly come into focus.

Glancing outward, you stare at the snow that hits the dark hood of König, sticking and hanging off until the tiny white dots melt from the heat of his body. With his legs shifting he moves back a step and nods to you, eyes moving to stare at the ground for a moment.

“We will take you to base. From there you will all be given dorms and fresh apparel to—”

“Thank you, König,” you interrupted him. He stares, lips parted with the half-tones of cut-off speech. “And please extend my thanks to your men as well.”

“...Of course, Katze.” König stands straighter, always twitching fingers moving to the car door as engines start with a grinding roar. He nods again, the loose fabric swaying as the lenses of his rig stay firm at the movement. “There is no need to thank us. Relax. Sleep, if you wish to do it. The ride will be long.” The man’s gray eyes linger for a moment on your own, studying the bumps and small marks on your face. His hand tightens over the door as your gaze is stuck with his own; warmth blooming in his chest. He was glad he had found you.

König slips out a soft, “There are blankets under the seats,” before he closes the door with a firm thump of metal.

You can’t help but smile.

'…Hostages were taken back to [REDACTED] and received minor medical attention on site. Housed in [REDACTED] and were admitted for needed treatments/medications - all details/names listed in File 3 Section 6 for future reference. DNA was placed into databases.

Next of kin were informed of their family members’ position and/or state of being via phone call to the corresponding government official that then traveled through the appropriate channels once identified.'

You sit as a nurse hands you heating pads for your hands, which you take with a small thanks and clenched tightly, sucking every ounce of warmth from them to stop the shaking. Your body was heavy with the weight of new clothes and heated blankets, the room utterly normal in a way you’d not known for years. A corner table with books and a chess board—a connected bathroom stocked with amenities you may need; even a rug on the tile floor. You don’t know why that was shocking to you, but even the simplest thing was awe-inspiring. Your eyes had even slipped over a tiny nightlight near the door.

It nearly made you cry.

Your nurse moves back a bit, smiling down at you kindly.

“Is there anything else you might need, Dear?” Her accent is prominent, though not as much as König’s had been. She waits for your answer diligently as the pitcher of water and a similar glass sit on your nightstand.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Your socked feet rub together like a grasshopper. “I think that’s all.” Your eyelids blink. “But…” you stop.

“What is it?” The lady asks gently, hands slack at her sides.

“The man—König,” you pause. “Is he here?”

Blinking at you, the nurse tilts her head to the side in curiosity. “Not currently, no. At least, not in this specific building. He and his men are being debriefed across base. They will be there for a long while.” At your blank look, her brows slightly move up in accommodating comfort. “Would…you like me to tell him something for you?”

Playing with the heating pads in your hands, your face gains a slightly embarrassed sheen. You liked the thought of being near König, truthfully. No one had made you feel safe like he did—him and his selfless action of a large coat given with no intention of getting anything in return.

“Just,” you breathe softly. “Just that I’m sorry for losing his coat, and that I hope it wasn’t expensive.”

The nurse stares, very much confused but not about to question you. Her feet shift over the floor, and a light nod is sent your way.

“Of course. I’ll tell him.” She motions to the bed with a hand and explains that whenever you wished to sleep, you were free to use the bed—and the TV was open to you as well, though you might not be able to understand the local stations. With that, she exited the room.

Left alone, your head moves around the room slowly, taking it all in once more as the small bandages under your clothes pull at your flesh. The tears start slipping down your cheeks with no warning.

Wrist coming up to your eyes, the limb presses in tightly, water staining the flesh as it dribbles down, and your lip quivers like a worm below it. You don’t know why you’re crying now and not when König had gotten you out of that townhouse. Why now, when there wasn’t anything prompting you to do so?

But something was prompting you—the knowledge that you would never be going back to anyone who would mistreat you again. You had your own room. Good food. All the water that your stomach could drink down. A nightlight that pushes back the darkness even if you’re so used to living in it.

Through your soft sniffles, chuckles move out, filling the space with a warm echo. You pull the blankets closer to you and collapse backward onto the mattress, smiling widely at the ceiling.

That little invisible string dances as your heart pulls at it.

—

König’s leg lightly jumps from under his table, signing off his name at the bottom of a report before he stands and rubs a hand over the top of his un-hooded head. He grabs the paper and slips it into a manila folder, hands pale with deep scars running the length of them like fissures in the earth. Deftly taking the item, he walks out of his office and begins moving down the length of the building, fingers tapping over the yellowish material with a small connection of flesh and thick envelope.

Tap-tap, tappity-tap.

His fingers were always fidgeting—moving, tensing, twitching. It was one of the reasons they never let him become a recon sniper; the more obvious being the blatant size of his body. Both of which had been the cause of much teasing throughout his childhood.

But König’s mind was on something other than the report in his hands, and it was starting to become a very strong distraction. You. The women. Al-Qatala.

He was angry he hadn’t acted outside of that coffee shop—angry he hadn't noticed the signs right in front of him even if he had been powerless to stop it then. The soldier’s jaw clenched, the strong muscles of his jaw roving.

“Verdammt,” he hisses under his breath, glaring at the tile. “Should have done something.”

König gets to his commanding officer’s office and knocks, only staying long enough to hand him the folder with his finished report and leave once more. His mind wouldn’t stay silent tonight. There’s no doubt that he won’t be able to sleep unless he reassures himself that you and the others are okay.

The man’s head shifts back to the email he had gotten from your assigned nurse, whom he’d taken it upon himself to know the name of when he carried you into the base’s hospital—Eva.

‘...She says she wants to apologize for losing your coat…”

König’s heart had twisted at that—that was what you were concerned about? He had to tell you that it was alright, or else he would never know peace. Perhaps even ask how you’ve been treated so far, just to make sure that everything was comfortable for you.

The man’s eyelids move slightly downward in thought, a pull at his heart to walk outside. He passes a few other soldiers in the hallway, nodding to them with a tiny greeting but unwilling to stop and talk. In only fatigues, König exits the main doors quickly, lightly moving into a jog as his body shivers at the sudden chill touching his arms under the black compression shirt. Under him the snow has grown deeper, the large lights illuminating the almost greenish reflections of the winter landscape of open roads and large buildings.

Curfew was long past—this had to be quick.

Just a check-in, König tells himself as he nears the hospital, his breath puffing in the air. Then I can wipe my hands of it.

He slows as he nears the doors, huffing a breath as he pushes on the barrier, opening it with a squawk of hinges and metal. Entering, the front desk staff looked up at him in surprise, muttering his name in question.

“Katze?” He responds, pushing a hand over his head and feeling the melting snowflakes. His cheeks are a light shade of exposure-red, and inquisitive eyes shift over the two individuals slowly. “What room?”

The pair share a glance and tell him in the same breath. Room ten.

It’s no sooner after that König finds himself there, hand hovering over the handle as the hallway clock ticks beside his right ear. His gray eyes blink at the door, feet shuffling from under him before he clears his throat under his breath, glancing away for a second in hesitation.

Was this appropriate?

König didn’t have an answer, but the pull in his chest was tight and firm—he just needed to see you. A glimpse, nothing more. He raises his fist and raps his knuckles over the wood delicately, three tiny knocks that hit his ears like bullets from a gun; the bullets he’s put into pathetic Al-Qatala bodies and watched burst like sacks of fluid.

He waits, hands going to grasp at his shirt collar, pushing out a low breath to calm himself.

After a long moment, his foot taps the floor, blinking. Again he knocks—a bit louder.

“She is sleeping, you evolutionsbremse,” he utters, accent low and grating. “Leave her alone.” But even if you are, his nerves peek their head over the brimstone wall of his brain.

With his fingers caressing the handle, slowly moved to clutch it fully, swallowing the metal in his grip. König takes a deep breath into his lungs, letting it fill them up. Again, he tells himself, just a check-in.

He twists the doorknob and sets his forearm on the wood, pushing the barrier open.

König moves so that his body makes no noise, even with how large it is as he angles the side of his head through the opening. He finds a large mound of blankets atop the bed—stacked and layered so heavily that he has to blink in surprise at how you can breathe under them; because you were under them.

Gray eyes make out the small sliver of skin peaking out from the side of the bed—fingers—and the top of your forehead near the pillows formed around your skull. Unconsciously, a soft smile works its way over König’s lips until he finds himself chuckling.

“Niedlich,” he mutters, scars over his face shifting as he speaks.

Sighing lowly, König pulls back his head, beginning to close the door once more.

“König…?” Your tiny voice makes him halt like he had in the townhouse.

Eyes wide and lips parted at being caught, the door remains open, only a sliver visible to your vision as your furrowed brows are stuck at the barrier. A red sheen moves across the soldier’s face in a slow sweep of embarrassment that goes bone deep.

With a lick of his lips, König re-opens the door slightly.

“I did not mean to wake you, Katze.” He finds your eyes and nods to you. “I apologize. Go back to sleep—you must be tired.”

“Wait,” you utter, moving your head fully out from under the blankets. König pauses, eyes staring as his other hand comes up to itch at the back of his neck.

“What is it,” the man asks, opening the door fully and moving inside. “Do you need anything?”

The question had hit you in your thin slumber, interrupted only partially by the opening of your door to the familiar pull of gray eyes and a strong build. A buzz-cut head. You take a slow breath to wake yourself up more, watching him from your bed. “...Did you know that I would be in that house?”

König tilts his head at the question, sighing slightly and glancing at the clock inside of the room on your nightstand. He frowns.

“No,” he explains gently, coming closer. “No, I did not. I do not get told such things—only where to shoot and where not to.” The man tries a small smile, kneeling on one leg down by the bed and staring into your sleepy eyes. “But I am glad I found you again, yes? You had me worried.”

“You were worried?” You can’t quite grasp it.

“Ja,” he nods. “Your eyes—they have stuck with me, Schatz, you understand?”

Your eyebrows pull up your face, blinking in shock.

“...Yours, too,” you confess. König’s heart flutters, listening until your lips have fallen still. “They’re very nice, König.”

He goes sheepish, lips flicking up into a smile and his eyes daring away for a moment. “You can thank my mother for them, then.” He chuckles. “I have stolen the family's eyes, I was told.”

You chuckle with him, hand coming to rub at your cheek. A silence falls between the two of you.

“I don’t sleep well,” you tell him in the relative darkness, light from the hallway and your night light illuminating the dips and bone structure of his face. “I was awake when you opened the door.”

He nods after a moment. “Ja.” A pause. “I don’t either…Nightmares?”

You watch him before nodding tinily.

“Ah,” he mutters. “They are not pleasant, I’m sorry that they have been plaguing you. Do you…” König wonders if he should leave—this was far more than he had anticipated. “Do you wish for me to stay?”

Why had he said that?

The string between the two of you tightens evermore, gaining another thread just as it would for the years to come until it became as unbreakable as steel.

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” you begin but are quickly interrupted with a shake of a square head and a huff of a sharp nose.

“You are not. Do not call yourself such.” His accent deepens with emotion, eyes narrowing as the dark brows on his face pull in. “If you want me to stay, I will stay. Wake you if you become shaky, yes? Keep the bad dreams at bay.”

“But what about you?” Your voice moves around the room as König stands and goes to the table in the back, shifting one of the chairs so that it’s angled your way. You shift so you can watch him sit back, grunting as his legs move out in front of him, opening so he can be more comfortable. He needed a bigger chair, but he wasn’t going to complain about it.

“I’m not tired, Schatz.” A lie. His muscles are heavy, and he longs for his bed in the barracks. He pushes out, “Please, go back to sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

You stare for a long while, studying him and how he fidgets in his seat of choice. A small laugh meets the man’s ears as he crosses his arms over his chest. König pauses, blinking over in confusion. His lips move upwards slowly.

“What are you laughing at, then, hm?”

“You look like you’re about to break it,” you mutter, head nuzzling the pillow under you as fatigue claws its way under your skin.

König huffs, fingers twitching over the meat of his biceps as he slouches. He nods jokingly. “Perhaps,” he shrugs, the window behind him letting a slight tinge of cold air in from outside. “It would not be the first, I’m afraid, though it would be quite the embarrassment to do it in front of you, Katze.” He smirks. “But I’ll say, hitting my head on door frames hurts more than letting my arsch kiss the ground.”

You laugh under your heap, your body jerking to the movement of your lungs.

“I bet,” you say, fingers grasping one of your blankets and pulling it closer. “It’s a funny image.”

“You can laugh all you want,” König jokes, eyes soft as they gaze at you. “It does not bother me.”

Your sweet sounds of amusement waft out from under the crack in the door, where a small group of curious nurses mull and listen with glances to one another. A doctor moves past the hallway where they stand, and all scatter on quick feet.

'…Signed,

[REDACTED]

SUBMITTED: 0517, 25, November 2021

END OF MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’

RETURNING TO SELECTION MENU…

STAND BY…'

It’s only after most of the other women leave—sent home to awaiting families or loved ones—that you know your time is coming to a close here in Berlin, Germany. While you’re excited to put this behind you, you can’t help but feel a bit…lost.

There’s something that keeps you here, on this base, until you’re the last out of all of them, waiting. And then you’re given the green light to go—go home—and suddenly you have a backpack full of necessities and you’re closing the door to your room with the little nightlight’s plastic body pushing against your spine. Yet, you stand in the hallway for a long minute, fingers interlocked.

You take a long, deep, breath.

Over the weeks of recovery, König had been a constant companion when he wasn’t needed. He had eased you back into a comfortable state, letting you somewhat lose the black-and-white view you had gained of the world. But there was only so much he could do, even if his soft eyes were still stuck in your dreams—the good ones, of course.

You needed to go home, and, today, the C-17 was whirring on the tarmac, waiting for you to be transported to a military base far from here where you would be processed and, ultimately, let go.

Let go. It was jarring to think about, all of that freedom. What would you do with it? Right now, you don’t have the faintest clue. It was the best feeling you can remember having.

Smiling, you take one last look at the room behind you and walk on.

At the entrance, you say a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the nurses and doctors in broken German, shaking their hands as Eva kisses your forehead and whispers how happy she is to have had you here for such little time—you know what she means and you chuckle with her at the double-edged sword.

König waits by the door, holding it open with…you blink at the item in his hands as well as his sudden appearance. Canvas fabric. A coat.

The coat.

“I had to have it processed,” he says, smiling as you gape at him. “Very long process. It was found in the closet in the townhouse.”

“Then why are you handing it to me,” you ask, tilting your head and walking closer.

“I gave it to you, did I not?” The man hums, head tilting as he motions with it again. “It’s a good coat, Katze. Winters get cold.” Gray eyes crinkle gently. “I would hate for you to shiver, wherever it is that you end up, yes?”

You shake your head, cheeks hot. But your hands don’t hesitate to grasp the item, König’s hold on it remains fast, though, and you blink at him as you both keep it gently clasped like it’s worth its weight in gold.

König stares at you, the door still kept open behind him. He opens and closes his mouth for a moment as you tilt your head.

“Keep it safe for me,” is what he ends with, but his expression tells you he’s not talking about the coat.

It makes your arms tingle—your heart skips a beat.

“I’ll be sure it never gets lost,” you smile warmly, eyes malleable as the make of their color glints. There is a connection to this man that transcends words, and it is tied to you just as heavily as it is to him; unexplainable, incomprehensible, non-describable.

Enigmatic.

König’s reverential face is soft with care.

“Good,” he mutters, unable to look away. “Very good.”

Clearing his throat, his grays dart to the floor, shifting his feet to move backward. He pushes open the door wider for you, and you hold your backpack in one hand as you shift past him and slip into his coat.

It was exactly how you remembered it, and you sank into the fabric with a thankful sigh and a fluttering of your lashes. You shift the bag back over your shoulders, letting the straps fall into the bulk of the extra material.

The snow wasn’t falling today, and the ground was shoveled of any white powder too. On the air, you can hear the whir of the C-17.

König comes up beside you, a hand hovering over the small of your back as he guides you along. For the most part, the walk to the tarmac is silent with the weight of the future. You had no phone. No socials. You didn’t even know if you wanted any, to be honest. Your mind had convinced you that a good bout of soul-searching was exactly what you needed. And you had to do that alone.

Your lips are thin as your legs take you closer to the plane, König’s scent stuck into the stitches of the coat and covered your senses.

At the ramp, he stops as your feet take you onto the metal. Closing your eyes for a moment, you turn and lock gazes with him—gray hiding away what other, more human, emotions to be found. It was a slate of carefully crafted acceptance, and your own followed soon after.

It had to be this. The string wouldn’t break, no, but it had to be stretched to such a point to come back stronger.

“Thank—”

“Don’t,” he says, not blinking, looking up at you.

You smile. “What do you want me to say, then?”

“You don’t have to say anything to me.” You hadn't known it then, but the both of you had truly thought that this would be the last of your meetings. It produced a pulse in both of your hearts that would never be told aloud. “....Live well,” König utters. “Heal, Mein Schatz.”

The soldier wasn't one to give his chances to hope.

Your eyes follow as he backs up, moving away as you stare. In his head, König pleads with you to stop and give him a reprieve from the hypnosis of your gaze, the addictive movement of your head as it tilts to the side.

Live well.

You send him a smile, a delicate thing, and then you back up a step and turn, disappearing into the darkness.

The string follows, and it continues to do so even as your hands slip into your pockets hours later, bumping into the small form of a black flip phone. The note hidden inside of it.

‘For whenever you find what you’re looking for.’

'REQUEST FOR ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE

REQUESTED BY: [REDACTED]

ENTERED: DECEMBER 15, 2021

TIME: 1422

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED….

RETURNING TO FILE SELECT MENU…

FILE SELECTED….

TRANSLATING…

STAND BY…

REQUEST OF HONORABLE ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE OF [REDACTED] APPROVED ON JANUARY 2, 2022

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED…

SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN'

You sit in a coffee shop in Berlin, Germany, by the window. It wasn’t just any coffee shop, but you try not to think about all of that. It was all in the past—three years, now. You like to think you’d learned something in that time.

“Danke schön,” you say to the woman who brings you your drink, nodding kindly. You take a small sip, humming and winking at her teasingly. “Perfekt.”

She chuckles, wiping her hands on her apron. “Möchten Sie noch etwas anderes dazu?”

“Nein, nein,” you shake your head, waving a hand that soft bumps the flip phone on the table. “Danke.”

The lady walks away, and you take another sip of the hot beverage, never put off by the heat.

It was winter again, and your eyes followed the flakes as they fell from a cloudy sky, finding the beauty in it easily as you sat inside. The scarf around your neck is loose—your gifted coat open. You smile to yourself and hum, watching people walk past outside, thinking about their lives and how they live them.

A large form travels out from a shop across the street, a plastic bag in his loose grip. He was not small, no, this man was a beast of height and strength alike. The loping, canid-like, walk was accented by the twitch of his fingers over his quarry.

Your wide eyes stay stuck to him for a long moment as he moves to the crosswalk, people shifting out of his way as he ignores them. Familiarity strikes like lighting—a buzz down your spine that leaves you straightening.

After a long moment, a breathless laugh sneaks out of you.

There were just some things that people were never meant to understand.

Your hand places your cup back on the table, picking up the old flip phone and pushing it open. Your thumb runs the keypad, moving to the only contact that had ever been entered into the device.

Pressing, you move it to your ear as you watch with a soft expression, heart pattering.

Across the way, the man tenses, hand patting his leg before the other hand moves inside his pocket and shifts the item out. People walk away, moving to the other side of the crosswalk as he stares at the contact.

A minute passes, and all the while you hold your breath.

He presses and moves the phone to his ear, staying as still as stone. As still as a man afraid his hood might scare a group of terrified women.

His voice graces your ear.

“...Katze?” You beam, trapped in the warmth of the coat around your shoulders.

“How do you feel about coffee, König?”

Blue-gray eyes had never been more beautiful than when they snapped up to meet yours.

TAGS:

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probablybadrpgideas · 1 year

Text

Tourist Destinations Of The Outer Planes

Mechanus: How dare you suggest there would be anything novel or unique in Mechanus?! To cog jail with you!

Arcadia: Like those normal towns with "world best fish and chips" except they're scrupulously fact checked. "Home of Arcadia's 3826th best B&B according to multiple double-blind studies (citations available on request)"

Mount Celestia: Pure and ineffable spiritual bliss in the face of the divine and, after that, a pretty decent pizza shop where you can get a t-shirt with your face when you learnt the true name of God.

Bytopia: Bytopia is the embodiment of the concept of "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" and also the domain of the gnome deities, so if you've ever wanted to see the Great Wheel's only 24/7 prank youtuber live show where all the pranks revolve around how millennials need to spend less on avocado toast, you're in luck! If not, may I recommend the abyssal layer where snakes drink your eyes as a pleasant reprieve?

Elysium: Just a rabbit sat on a rock but because you're in Elysuim it's the best thing you've ever seen. You autodelete all memories of your wedding and children's birth and suchlike for being shit in comparison.

The Beastlands: Who's the best dog in the world? Who is it? This isn't a rhetorical question, there's an objective answer. You can see him for the low price of four acorns and a fancy rock.

Arborea: Don't be fooled by the signs! The natives of Arborea spend their time playing and dancing so they have things like open plan offices and tax return help-desks as vacation spots. Instead ask where the boring parts of Arborea are to be given directions to the firework waterslide music concert video game dance party.

Ysgard: Monuments to epic deeds literally everywhere. So many monuments they start sounding sarcastic. If you successfully get to your hotel room they erect a 15ft statue commemorating it.

Limbo: "Look, you had to be there. Literally, what I saw existed beyond the capacity of human words to describe and I weep tadpoles when I try to recall it in any detail"

Pandemonium: Great acoustic guitar scene. Well, we assume they're good. If nothing else, you have to admire their perseverance.

The Abyss: Go on Demogorgan's tour of all infinity layers! The most fucked up shit you've ever seen or your spinal column back guaranteed!

Carceri: Be in the audience at History's Greatest Monster, where the most evil people in history compete for the crown! If you're lucky, you might get an autograph before they're hurled back into their eternal prisons once more!

Hades: Fuck you.

Gehenna: Tourist traps, in the sense of big holes you fall in and have to give a deamon all your money before it will let you out.

The Nine Hells: The Nine Hells are a wonderful place to visit, with a wide varieties of eateries, vistas and attractions that you should visit before you die! I am not writing this under duress and you should not send help to

Acheron: One extremely dangerous theme park. It's cheap and there are few queues but be aware that sometimes the god of orcs will show up and use whatever ride you're on as a bludgeoning weapon. Overall nice atmosphere, 4 stars.

The Outlands: Alas, I'm pretty sure there's absolutely nowhere worth visiting in the outlands. Sorry guys.

#D&D #fantasy #setting idea #eyes

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creekfiend · 7 days

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my mother has 4 foster kittens this spring which is less foster kittens than usual at least but still more than is ideal, which would be zero foster kittens. anyway apparently our dog trainer knows a woman who helps run the Large Medieval Castle attraction in a nearby tourist town and she wants Castle Cats so these guys might go live in a Castle

I love. northeast Georgia

#sure sure yeah she wants castle cats #absolutely. sounds great #fambly

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phoenixsbby · 2 years

Text

This Isn’t What It Looks Like - Hangman x Bartender!reader

summary: Hangman is totally, 100% over his ex … he just needs a fake girlfriend to prove it.

WC: 5.2k

a/n: let’s take every cliche romance trope and turn it into a Hangman fic, shall we?

warnings: mentions of sex, swearing

“No, absolutely not.”

“What?! Why?” Hangman’s leaning over the bar, staring you down intently while you finish up the closing tasks of the Hard Deck. You ran the last call bell awhile ago, happy to see everyone closed out promptly. Everyone except Hangman, that is. No, Hangman continued to linger until you said goodnight to the last patron. Then he approached, marched right up to where you’d been cleaning with that charming grin spread across his lips. You knew you were in for it.

“Do you know how ridiculous this sounds?” Hangman just shrugs. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend to prove to your ex that you’ve moved on ... which by the way you so clearly have not.”

“I have. And ... yes?”

“You think we can act like we like each other enough to convince her we’re in love?”

“I don’t see it being a problem.” His eyes flicker across your face before dropping to your body, giving it a quick once over. Heat rushes to your cheeks, despite the fact that it’s not the first time Hangman has looked at you that way.

“Why is she even going to be here? A Naval base isn’t an ideal tourist attraction.”

“It is if you’re an Admirals daughter.” He visibly winces as your jaw compulsively drops.

“Oh, Hangman.” You tsk at him, fighting back a smirk that threatens to break out.

“That’s beyond the point.” He swats at the air as if trying to magically push the conversation along.

“Well, what’s in it for me?”

“My undying gratitude?”

You hum, tapping a sarcastic finger against your chin before replying, “Next.”

“Y/NNNN.” He whines your name, like a child pleading with their parents for just one more piece of candy. Anyone and everyone who knows him could tell you that Jake Seresin has an ego. They would say that he’s demanding and likes to remind people that more often than not, he gets what he wants. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Hangman beg for anything before ... you kind of like it.

“Jaaaakkkeee.” You match his tone, pouting your bottom lip a bit for emphasis.

“I’ll scrub the bar clean for two weeks, I’ll take Marlie to the dog park every weekend for the next month, I’ll kiss the god damn floor you walk on.” The offer is tempting, you can’t deny that. You act like you’re considering it while simultaneously wiping down a glass as he continues. "We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You and Hangman are friends, in every way that a bartender at a Navy bar and a Naval Lieutenant can be. On nights when he’s not deployed or doesn’t have too early of a morning the next day, he’ll come around. Sometimes he’s with friends, sometimes he comes alone. On a couple of rare nights when the place is quiet, Jake will keep you company by choosing a seat at the bar rather than a table tucked in the back. When you can, you’ll sit beside him, make small talk, play some cards, or people watch until you earn a glare from the old guy who always challenges people to a game of darts despite having the worst aim you’ve ever seen.

During those nights, the ones you let resurface in your mind more times that you’d like to admit, you’ll find your legs tangled in between his, your bodies leaning in, unconsciously craving the closeness. You liked the way it felt to have some part of you pressed against him, liked the way his heat mixed with yours. Usually the contact ended when you remembered you had a job to do but, you never willingly pulled away. You noticed he never did either.

“That’s a loose term for it, sure.” It’s a lie and you both know it.

“And friends do favors for other friends, right?” He raises his brows, his normal grin turning into a sly and suggestive one.

This time while wiping down a new glass, you actually consider it. In the time that you’ve known Jake, he’s been there for you. Again, there are only so many ways that a bartender and a bar patron can be there for each other but, Jake has checked almost all the boxes.

And then there was that one night, the one you’re too eager to blame on alcohol despite only having two drinks a couple hours apart. Sometimes after you get home from work, still buzzing from the energy of the bar, you’ll stare up at your bedroom ceiling and allow the memory to play out like a movie inside your head.

“I think it’s about time for me to get you home.” Hangman bopped your nose with the tip of his pointer finger. The crowd at the bar didn’t look like it would be dwindling out any time soon, drinks were flowing, people were singing and dancing. You were reveling in the fact that you had the night off but, were choosing to ignore that you were spending said night off at your workplace.

“What? Why? I’m not even-“

“Drunk, I know. But it’s late and I’d like to be sure that you make it home safely.” Jake said and you forced yourself to not to acknowledge the way his smile, soft and sweet, made your heart drum harder against your breastbone.

“Ever the gentleman.” You poked his nose back and let him drive you home. It was the middle of the summer which meant the California day heat lingered well past dark and you’d insisted that every single window in Jakes jeep be rolled down. The normally humid breeze was cool against your hot, slightly sweaty skin and whipped through your hair as you watched the coast pass by in a blur.

A hand was placed gently on your thigh, not too high but, certainly not low. A warm feeling, like static electricity, radiated from where his palm rested, spreading its way higher and higher until it pooled in between your legs. Without looking over at him, you settled your hand on the top of his and intertwined your fingers together.

When he pulled into the driveway of the small cottage you were renting, neither of you made any efforts to remove your hands from each others hold. The head rush you were getting from the sensation of his skin on yours was enough to have you question whether or not you were actually drunk.

But there was no way. Alcohol had nothing to do with the tidal wave of want that came over you when your eyes finally met, still sitting in the car, with only the center console keeping your bodies apart. You’d like to believe that want wasn’t derived from the fact that a very attractive man was staring at you like any second he’d devour you (although, that was certainly a driving factor).

You wanted to believe the result was from the fact that you knew Jake Seresin. You knew all his favorite restaurants he ate at growing up in Texas and how his dad was an asshole who’s never truly seen how great of son he raised. He was Jake, the aviator who listened to you babble on about your training your new puppy and your many failures attempts to find new hobbies. He was the man who really saw you and came back night after night anyway.

You felt a rush of coldness cover your body when he lifted his hand from your leg and stepped into the balmy San Diego night. He rounded the car and stopped in front of your door before pulling it open and reaching for you to help you climb out. You took his hand and shamelessly clung to his arm and to his side until you reached your front door.

You lingered there, allowing your key to hover just above the lock before deciding to throw all caution to the wind. He was much closer than you anticipated, your chests nearly colliding when you turned to face him. Neither of you spoke, like you were afraid that one wrong word or sound would pop this bubble of earnest tension you’d created.

He took a step forward and your knee-jerk reaction was to take one back so, he continued pressing you until your back met the wood of your front door with a thump. Your breathing began to turn unsteady when he reached a hand up, hovering, almost waiting for you to pull away. When you didn’t, he let himself push a few stray strands of hair behind your ear while inching his face closer and closer and closer until …

He stopped with only a few inches left separating your faces. He was so close, you were engulfed in his scent - spicy and sweet and completely Jake. His hand moved down to your face, tracing, pressing, caressing its way down your throat and to your collarbones. He looked possessed, a man completely captivated by you and your skin.

With an easy dip of your head, you let your lips dance over his sharp jaw line, desperate to relieve this aching pressure that was building inside of you. More pressure mounted when you saw, when you felt, the way his body reacted to your movements. He released a long, rattled, shaky breath and gripped the door frame beside you for dear life.

His knee nudged its way in between your legs and you fought the urge to moan at its solidness, so close to where you needed him the most. He pulled his face back, just enough to gaze down at you through hooded eyes.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice came out rough and guttural, like he was physical forcing the words to come out.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” You didn’t, not in the slightest. In fact, you were seconds away from getting down on the ground and begging him to touch you, to love you. You reached out and let your hands travel from his uniformed chest down to his stomach, feeling the dips and ridges of his hard muscles beneath your palms.

He scooped up your hands with his and held them, so tightly, before bringing them to his lips. He kissed them, branding your skin as if his lips were hot irons, muttered a ‘goodnight’ then walked away.

You hadn’t felt that way, that impassioned and desperate in a long time. Maybe you’ll do this for Hangman because he’s right, friends do favors for each other. Or maybe you’ll do it for more selfish reasons, ones you’ll never so much as openly admit to having.

“Marlie likes to be at the park early, like really early to get the best pick of the sticks. And you don’t have to clean the bar but, I wouldn’t mind some company after-“

You let out a grunt when Hangman reaches across the bar, grabs you by the arms, and hauls you into him. The wood of the bar top is drilling into your hips, poking so uncomfortably into your bones yet, you don’t move. You sink into him despite the pain.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He squeezes you then pulls back, ruffling a hand through your hair which you quickly bat away.

“Yes, I know, I’m the best. So ... where do we start?”

——

The Friday night rush at the Hard Deck was showing you no mercy, you barely had a minute to breathe, let alone time to think about your agreement with Hangman. In fact, the predicament hadn’t even crossed your mind until your eyes meet unmistakable, rich green ones with a contagious grin to match from across the bar.

“M’love.” He greets you as you set down two cold beers in front of him.

“Hangster.” You greet him back with a wink. You go to move on to the next customer when you hear him call you back.

“Just a heads up, she should be here soon.”

“Ah, yes, she who shall not be named.” You smirk, trying to do your job while holding the conversation. You pop off a few lids and swipe some empties before looking back at him, noticing that he’s not smirking along with you.

“Y/N.”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, Jake, I’m ready to wow her. You are going to look so over her by the time I’m through with you.”

“I’m walking away now.” He grumbles as he grabs the beers and turns to go meet up with his fellow pilots.

“See ya later, babe!” You call after him, chuckling to yourself before getting back in the zone. Some of your friends and family had scrutinized you at first when they heard you were bartending. They acted like it was a black hole for all career potential but, they’re wrong. Bartending is no easy gig, it requires a lot of skill and acute focus.

Most nights, you allowed yourself to only pay attention to what was going on behind the bar and those sitting across from it. You rarely noticed the ebb and the flow of the crowd, who came in and who came out. Tonight however, you’re distracted, catching yourself watching the door, staring at any pretty girl that comes in wondering if she’s the one.

You’re in the middle of a lighthearted conversation with one of your favorite veterans, your back facing the door, when you hear Jake call for you. When you turn around, you’re met with Hangman’s bright smile and a beautiful blonde attached to his side. Your eyes flicker to where his arm is wrapped around her back, to where their hips connect, before forcing yourself to refocus on literally anywhere else that isn’t Jake’s body coming in contact with hers.

He introduces her to you, her name is as pretty and enchanting as her princess style hair. She must get it blown out once a week, that volume is too good to be natural. And her skin is nearly flawless, kind of glowing. There’s no way she uses drug store skin care. God damn, you need to get it together.

“This,” Hangman reaches across the bar, his fingers tucking a stray piece of hair that fell away from your pony tail back over your ear “is my gorgeous girlfriend, Y/N.”

“It’s great to meet you.” You force the words to come out steady and sweet, not because you want to spite her but, because you feel rattled after that touch, under the gentle look Jake is giving you.

“Likewise.” She replies with a smile.

“I’m due for a break soon, I’ll meet you guys when I’m off?” You place a bottle of the beer Jake usually gets down in front of him and ask his ex what she’d like. After mixing her a vodka soda, she tells you she can’t wait to hear about how you and Hangman met and fell in love.

You send Hangman a uh-wait-we-never-discussed-that look as he leads her away from the bar, holding your eyes to his for as long as he can over his shoulder.

Over the next fifteen minutes, you can’t help but watch them interact in between serving. Are they standing too close? Have they made any attempts at touching each other? You notice Hangman’s smiling and laughing a lot and it’s not that you don’t like seeing him happy, you just want to get a better understanding of how truthful he was when he said he’s moved on.

When your designated break time rolls around, you let Penny know and clock out with record speed before making a beeline for Hangman. When you reach him, you place a hand on his back to let him know you’re there causing him to spin around to face you.

“There she is.” His eyes twinkle with recognition before he tugs you against him, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Wow, he’s good at this. You wrap your arm around him in response, fisting the material of his shirt in your hand to keep him close. All for show, of course.

“So, Y/N,” His ex pulls your attention towards her “how long have you been a bartender here?”

“Almost a year.” You smile, a completely natural one associated with all of the memories of working at the Hard Deck. “I take classes during the day so, helping Penny out at night works out well for me.”

“She’s in a graduate program, working toward becoming an electrical engineer.” Jake adds, causing you to jerk your eyes to meet his. “Her dad was an engineer for the Navy. Guess you two have something else in common other than being completely enamored by me.” His ex lets out a loud laugh and playfully smacks Hangman’s arm, all while you just stare.

You’re shocked he remembers that. You told him about it once, when you first met. Since then, he’s asked about how classes were going but, you figured he wouldn’t remember the specifics.

“She’s so smart.” He holds your eyes to his while resting a hand against the back of your neck and kneading it gently. Holy shit, you might spontaneously combust.

‘That’s really cool, Y/N.” She says, snapping you out of your trance.

“Thanks.” Your voice comes out a bit coarse so, you clear your throat and turn to smile at her. “Not as cool as having an Admiral for a father. I bet that got Jake in just the right amount of trouble.” You pinch his side, smiling wider as he jumps and grabs your hand tightly.

“Oh, yeah.” You watch as her eyes flicker to Hangman, a vaguely recognizable and totally unsubtle look, almost like desire, settles over her features. “We used to really get into it.”

…oh?

You let out a hesitant chuckle, hoping Hangman will take the reins on steering this conversation somewhere else but when you glance up at him, you see him looking back at her with a matching expression of longing. You feel it like a punch to the chest and squeeze his hand that’s still locked around yours.

His ex is the first to shake out what can only be described as their staring contest, looking to you with a tight smile. “Well, let’s hear it! How did you guys end up together?”

“Yeah guys,” Phoenix and Rooster come strolling over to your group, sharing matching pompous smirks “tell us all about it.” Phoenix rests her elbows on the table while Rooster takes a seat, both ready to watch the Y/N and Hangman show. The only thing they’re missing is a bowl of popcorn.

“Spilled drink!”

“The beach!”

Oh, shit. Your voices layer right over each other and now you have three sets of eyebrows raised sky high in your direction. Phoenix releases a snort into her drink and Rooster’s grinning like he just won the freaking lottery.

You and Hangman’s eyes dart to meet, a muscle in his jaw clicking, one of your eyes twitching before you open your mouth to try and recover the situation.

“Well, yeah, uh .. we met because this smooth pilot knocked a beer right out of my hand and onto my shirt.” You feel a smile, a real, honest smile come across your face because what you were saying was true. The first time you met, Jake had turned around right into you, knocking over three drinks and soaking you in cheap alcohol.

You can remember the look on his face vividly, the way he was opening his mouth to say something along the lines of ‘watch where you’re going’ but, stopped short as he took you in. When your eyes met, when you felt the scorch of his stare on your skin, getting the stains out of one of your favorite shirts was the last thing on your mind.

“I asked her to meet me on the beach after her shift.” Hangman adds. “We walked together, I told her I’d pay for a new shirt but, she insisted it wasn’t necessary.” Still true. “She said she sees the stain as a kind of reminder. She’d look at it and always think of me ... and how insanely good looking I am.” You roll your eyes playfully, hearing a chorus of laughs and groans from around you.

“I really wanted to kiss her then.” His grin simmers down into a look of yearning, one that’s almost slightly pained.

“And you did, right? Kiss her?” His ex asks.

“Yeah.” Hangman clears his throat, pulling his eyes away from yours. “And she’s been mine ever since.”

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest?” Phoenix coos before sending you a wink and pulling a still grinning Bradley up and towards the bar.

You’re blessed with an opportunity to divert the conversation (because any more and your heart may give out) when an older, but classic song you recognize instantly plays from the jukebox.

“Oh, this is my favorite song.” You say as the slow rhythm flows through the bar.

“Well you heard her, Hangman! Dance with her!” His ex smiles, pushing you two toward the area that others have designated as a makeshift dance floor.

“Oh no, that’s okay.” You shake your head, laughing nervously.

“We should,” Hangman takes your hand and starts to tread backwards, pulling you along with him “before you have to get back to your shift.”

You let him pull your body flush against his before he props the hand he was holding on his chest and grabs the other one to hold up in the air. You’re thankful when he sways you softly, worried that heavier movements mixed with the dizziness that his proximity brings would most likely result with you hitting the floor.

“I’d say it’s working.” His breath grazes your temple, pulling a shudder out from deep within your body.

“Hm?” You hum, pulling back a bit to look into his eyes.

“Our relationship. She seems convinced.” You swallow thickly and nod, glad in someway that you’ve managed to persuade this woman into thinking you’re in love with each other. You must be great actors, maybe you should both consider a career change. “She told me she was single.”

“Oh.” You mutter, seemingly all you can manage in that moment. “And how do you feel about that?”

He holds your stare with slightly furrowed brows and you can see the wheels turning inside his mind. Whether or not it’s because he’s reading yours or formulating his answer, you’re not sure. And you may never know because the sound of the bell pulls you away from him and his attention. When you glance over at the bar, it’s packed and Penny looks like she’s drowning.

Without giving it much thought, you press a kiss to Hangman’s cheek and whisper “I’ll see you later.” before booking it back to work.

——

You lose track of time, as you do frequently when the bar is this full. A couple of minutes may have passed, maybe a few hours, before Penny taps on your shoulder.

“Hey, sweetie. Can you do me a favor and run these out back? They’re taking up too much room behind here.” Penny asks, arms full of empty Coors Light boxes. You happily accept them from her grasp and make your way out of the back exit. When you manage to push the door open, you’re met with the sight of Hangman and his ex. Alone. Out back. With her hand on his chest.

You flinch involuntarily, nearly dropping the boxes all over the pavement. Hangman takes a big step backwards and his ex tucks her hands behind her back, all while you just stand there, wide-eyed. Should you be mad, as his fake girlfriend? It shouldn’t really hurt yet, it does. You can feel that pain settling in like a pit in your stomach. Does this count as cheating, even if technically no cheating can occur if everyone involved is single? If it is, should you cause a scene?

Ugh, they need a rule book for the parameters of fake dating.

“Y/N,” Jake takes a step toward you “this isn’t what it looks like.” Your eyes flicker between Hangman and his ex, who both do a horrible job of hiding their guilt stricken features and you think okay, that’s bull but, you plaster on a smile anyway.

“No, yeah, of course. I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.” You toss the boxes into the recycling before heading back toward the door. You’ve almost scurried your way out of the situation when you hear Jake call your name again. You grip the handle, hard, and look over your shoulder. “I’ve got to get back in there.”

And that, you do. You work feverishly, like the only thing in the world that matters to you is serving the best drinks these customers have ever had. You only focus on three things; pouring, cleaning, cashing out and doing it again and again. You certainly do not focus on the thought of Hangman and his ex, standing so close, touching each other.

Pour, clean, cash out, pour, clean, cash out.

When Penny rings the last call bell, the relief you feel is so deep that you’re sure it’s radiating from your bones. The night’s finally over, which means you can put these weird, confusing circumstances with Hangman to bed and return back to your completely normal friendship tomorrow.

You were hoping to head out early, sneaky and silent to avoid a certain someone. But Penny asked you to cover the closing duties and you simply cannot say no to that wonderful woman. So you stayed busy and by the time the bar is cleared out, you want to celebrate - you’ve successfully evaded that conversation.

That is, until Hangman comes sauntering up to the bar seemingly out of no where.

“So, about earlier. I can explain-“

“Don’t worry, we’re not actually dating remember? So, no real apologies needed.”

“Right.” A beat of silence passes. You’re very close to being the one to break the silence, to ask him if you were going to pretend this night ever happened or simply ignore all of it and say goodnight. But, he beats you to it.

“She asked me if I thought we were going to last. She asked me for a second chance, something about seeing me after all this time and realizing she still has feelings.” You nod, putting on a brave face. If that’s what Jake wants, if being back with her would make him happy then, so be it.

“I told her I didn’t want her. I told her I loved you.” You swallowed the emotion clawing its way up your throat.

“Right, because to her, we’re in a completely legitimate relationship and couldn’t be happier.”

“Exactly.” More silence and you take it as an opportunity to really look at him. You take in his droopy posture, his slightly unfocused eyes. He looks sad. And all you want to do is make him feel better.

“Hey,” You place a hand over his “hypothetically, you chose the moral high road tonight. I’m proud of you for that. You don’t deserve someone who would put herself out there for a guy who’s taken.” You wink to try to lighten his mood but, he only manages a give you a thin grin back.

“I’m sure you’ll find the right someone ... someday.” You add, the words tasting like battery acid on your tongue.

“I’m not really looking.” He grits out, removing his hand from under yours.

“But .. you leave with women all the time, I’ve seen you.” You scoff, turning around because you need to scrub the other side of the bar and because you know if he continues to look you in the eye for long enough, he’ll see right through you. He’ll see right into your heart and find that little part of it you’ve tucked away for him.

“You’re seeing things then because I haven’t. I haven’t slept with a woman, even so much as thought about it since ...” He trails off and you pause, anticipation compelling your body to vibrate, like a jet engine starting up inside your chest.

“Since when?”

“Since I met you.”

You feel your breath hitch and have to grip the edge of the bar to keep yourself up right considering your limbs have decided to turn to gelatin. You turn to face him, taking in his glazed over eyes and delicate features.

“But that was-“

“Trust me, you do not need to remind me how long it’s been.” He forces out a breathy chuckle. You’re convinced that blood no longer pumps in your veins, fire courses through you instead and it’s igniting every particle in your body like they’re sparks waiting to catch. You drop the rag you’ve been using and step out from behind the bar, aching to be closer to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I figured you didn’t want to be with someone like me. Someone who’s gone half the time, someone who may never come back.” He shakes his head, letting it hang low. “I didn’t want to put you through that.”

You reach out, tracing the collar of his khaki uniform with your fingertips. “Can’t I make that decision for myself?”

“You can,” He looks up, resting a hand over the one you have against him “but if you chose to be with me then, you’re making the wrong one.”

“Then let me be wrong.” You let Jake guide your hand to his cheek. He leans into your touch before putting his other hand around your waist and pulling you into him. He kisses you with all the hunger and passion you felt the night on your porch, that you’ve continued to feel for him since. His lips are warm and burning with need as he takes control, diving his tongue deeper like he’s desperate for air and the only oxygen left in the word is buried inside you.

He pushes his body against yours, walking you back into the wooden edge of the bar. Desperation starts to bleed through, wrecking all your precision and turning both of your movements sloppy and frantic. You think it must be unnatural to kiss someone with this much desire, to no longer need air as much as you need their lips on yours. Eventually, one of you will pull away to breathe but, you’ll be on your last dying gasp before you do.

What pulls you away from each other isn’t basic human need - it’s Penny, pushing through the door from the kitchen and freezing in her tracks once she realizes what she’s seeing.

You break apart with blood rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment rather than lust.

“Pen, uh-“ You push Jake further away from you “this isn’t what it looks like?”

Hangman laughs, latching his hand around yours before pulling you back to him without remorse. “Sorry Penny, this is exactly what it looks like.”

——

^ me, preaching Hangman supremacy

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman fic #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin fic #jake 'hangman' seresin fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun: maverick #top gun #top gun fanfiction

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specshroom · 3 days

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hello hello, I stumbled across your writing and wanted to say how much I enjoyed “Blood In The Water” I was curious about how reader struck that deal with all the mer-creatures in the first place?! did they try to eat reader too? or did one/many have an attachment or attraction since reader grew up around that place? the whistling was soooo cool, like they were dogs trained to a command! does that mean they had struggles with communication at first? do the mer-peeps understand language or just body language? I’m full of questions 😂❤️ it was just so enthralling and love a good morally grey character! is reader struggling to make ends meet and that’s why they do this? or is it more of ‘it’s either me or them’ type scenario? OR reader is just like this is the easiest way to get money?! 👀 oml lemme stop here this is getting quite long— LOVE UR STUFF 😚

I'M SO GLAD IT INTERESTED YOU SO MUCH (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I like to keep things up to interpretation cus I think it's more fun BUT I can answer a few of those.

- They definitely struggled at first lol. The merfolk can't speak human language and don't understand it. Humans can't speak mer-language either because it's mostly high pitched clicks and chitters. Reader figures out that the closest they can get to making sounds the merfolk understand is by whistling because it's loud and high pitched enough that they can hear it easily even through the water.

- They do share a lot of body language and mannerisms with humans (like kissing👀) so that made things easier.

- The merfolk do recognise Reader as a local and that made them more trustworthy. (Later on they marked the bottom of Readers boat so they know it's them🥺)

I wrote a little drabble to answer the "How did this happen?" question.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You sigh as you row your way out of the canal and into the open waters.

Your new patron lounges in his seat on the opposite side of the gondola, staring up at the clear blue sky. You preferred doing business at night when it's quiet, few braved these waters at night. Alas dwindling funds force you to suffer the business of the day. There's just too much comotion in the daytime, too many tourists.

Its been like this since the first rich fool "discovered" that your relatively small and unimpressive lake town actually boasts some magnificent and horrific monsters in the depths of the decievingly calm waters surrounding it. Now flocks of fools come to "test their bravery" by crossing the dangerous waters.

Conservationists and locals convinced them that hunting down the monsters in the lake would lead to environmental catastrophe and the snobs decided that it would be a better investment as a tourist attraction.

"Don't you get bored of this?"

Your patron slices the silence in half. You blink out of your thoughts, releasing the iron grip you had on your oar.

"I could give you a different job."

The well dressed man's tone is almost convincingly sympathetic. You keep your gaze locked onto the familiar waters ahead of you...until you hear the distinct sound of coins being jostled against one another. That changes things.

You hesitantly turn to where the stranger sits comfortably, grinning with pride.

"I thought so, it's always the same with you locals."

The tourist opens his money bag and takes out one gold coin. At least enough for a small meal.

"What would you do for it?"

He plays with the coin in his fingers before tossing it out of the boat and into the water. The carelessness with which he tosses his gold makes your blood run hot. Through the thick permanent fog that hangs over the waters, you can just barely see the gold coin as it sinks into the abyss and your stomach growls pitifully.

He holds out the pouch over the side of the boat, dangling it over the water.

"Would you dive for it?"

The sick thing is that you actually consider it. You stare intensely at the stupid pouch that could keep you going for a good while.

The man suddenly drops the pouch and you jump forward to catch it but he yanks it back up by the drawstring before it can touch the surface of the water. He laughs at his cruel humour and your blood reaches it's boiling point.

You don't know why it was that patron in particular that made you snap or why that bad day in particular made you finally put the knife skills your father taught you to good use.

But before either of you know it his laughter turns to bloody choking. You scramble off of him, panic clear on your face. He reaches for the knife in his neck but it's useless. His body sags over the edge of the boat and his blood mixes with the water. You watch with wide eyes as he takes his last struggled breaths.

It's silent for a while before you take your eyes off of the man Infront of you to look down at your red stained hands. You look around as if anyone could've seen your crime through the fog anyway.

After a while of just staring blankly at the still body Infront of you, you try to compose yourself and lift him off the side of the gondola. You manage to tip him over and watch his body sink down.

You stare at the corpse fading deeper into the water. Just as you ready yourself to leave the scene something rocks the gondola slightly and you fall on your ass, gripping the side of the boat.

You feel a breath on the side of your cheek and jump when you look over and see two big pitch black eyes staring at you from over the side of the boat. Your skin turns to ice, unable to move.

You hear chittering from the other side and jump again as another one peers over the furnished wood of the boat. The first one takes your frozen hand in their cold clawed hand and inspects the drying blood covering it.

They stick their tongue out and slowly lick all the way up your shaking hand, licking away at the blood as if cleansing you of your sin. The other makes a clicking sound that sounds oddly like laughter.

Once all the blood on your hand has been licked off, the creature looks up at you for a moment before disappearing below the surface once more. The other one doesn't look like it wants to go but a few clicks from the water convince it to slowly lower back into the depths.

You lean over the side of the gondola trying to get a better look at the creature before it leaves. You deflate when you don't see so much as a ripple in the water.

Suddenly, just as you were sure they weren't coming back, the same one from moments ago bursts from the water. In a second it cups your cheek and kisses you. It's hard and deep, more passionate than you'd ever had before. The creature releases you and this time before it leaves it gives a little wave with its strange webbed hand. You wave back, a little dazed, as the monster dives back into the water.

You have to sit there for a good while staring at the pouch of coin the tourist left behind and then back to the murky waters, touching your lips while contemplating what the hell just happened.

#monster x human #monster x reader #monster lover #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monsterfucker #nsft fantasy #merman #merfolk x reader #merfolk #teratophillia #terato

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copperbadge · 5 months

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Hey Sam, it looks like I'll be in Chicago for a few days next May. I'm going through all the typical sight seeing websites, but do you have any recommendations for a first time visitor? I'm not huge on architecture, parks or crowds. History, art and music are a big yes. I'm considering the Big Bus hop on/off tour for practicality. Any tips would be appreciated!

I used to have a "guide to Chicago" that I would link people to, but I think it probably badly needs updating, since a lot of what it talks about is pre-pandemic, and some places don't exist anymore (which is not necessarily down to the pandemic, Chicago is an ever-changing place). RIP Apocalypse McDonalds. Definitely before you follow anyone's advice including mine, look up what you're going to go see to make sure it's still there.

So, couple of quick recommendations; thanks for telling me some of what you're into, that always helps :) I'm going to assume you're either staying somewhere close to downtown or willing to trek into the city from outside it. A lot of people who tell me they're visiting Chicago are actually visiting Rosemont, which is a nice place but not Chicago and not super close to most of what I'll be talking about. Chicago is extremely large, and if you are staying around the O'Hare airport area (Rosemont) it will be an hour by public transit or at least $50 by rideshare/cab to get downtown.

I will say whenever I'm visiting somewhere, my first stop is always Atlas Obscura, which usually lists the really weird shit to do. :D

I've never done the Big Bus tour, but it's much nicer to do it in May than, say, December, and the people I know who've done it found it a convenient and inexpensive way to get around the city without having to deal with public transit, so while I can't personally recommend, I've only heard good things.

I know you said you weren't into architecture, but if you want to see a lot of Chicago in a very relaxed fashion, while incidentally getting some architecture knowledge, it's tough to beat the Chicago Architecture Center's boat tour. You just get on the boat, buy a drink if you want one, sit back, and drift down the river and back while someone narrates the history of Chicago architecture to you. You'll also, in May, see lots of other folks out on the river and get a real taste of Chicago's downtown scene. If you'd like to see the river without the cost of the architecture tour, I'd check out the water taxis and see if there's an opportunity to take one when going between other places you're visiting. They do a lot of tourist-destination stops.

For history, the Chicago History Museum is a natural fit and a lot of walking tours leave from the museum, although most of them are architecture :D I would also HIGHLY recommend Adam Selzer's Mysterious Chicago tours; Selzer is a very smart local historian and if you'd like to do reading ahead of time I also highly recommend his book Ghosts of Chicago. If he's offering a tour of Rose Hill or Graceland cemeteries, I'd jump on that; Graceland was my old "home" cemetery (it was literally my backyard for about a decade) and I think it's extremely interesting and beautiful. If you do go to Graceland, I can recommend Byron's nearby as a great place to get a burger, fries, Italian Beef, or a hot dog. But pretty much any tour he offers I would recommend whether I've been on it or not, he's great.

For art, again, the natural choice is the Art Institute Museum; to avoid lines, I'd recommend buying your museum ticket ahead of time and entering through the Modern Wing on Monroe Street, which is less attractive but also way less crowded than the "Lions" entrance on Michigan Avenue. I always recommend people make sure not to miss the Thorne Miniatures (they're in the basement so easy to miss, but any docent can direct you there) and the Ugliest Vase in the World. They move the vase around quite a bit, but if you check the website for the Londonderry Vase before you go, it'll tell you where to find it. Its hideousness must be seen in person. Also make sure not to miss the Chagall windows, they're off in a corner by the entrance to the cafe.

I'm not really much on music so my reccs are weaker there, but if you'd like some Chicago blues in a tourist-friendly environment, Kingston Mines is good, as is Buddy Guy's (which also has great food and is closer to downtown). If you like fried chicken, Harold's Chicken Shack is near Buddy Guy's (it's all over, it's a small chain, but that's usually the easiest one for people to find). The Chicago Symphony Orchestra is pretty great for classical music, and in the summer they often have special guests. If you like the NPR show "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me", they record live in downtown Chicago at the Fine Arts building; you usually have to buy pretty far in advance, keep an eye on tickets here.

More general recommendations: the Museum of Science and Industry is really fun, especially with kids but even without, but it's also the furthest out from downtown and can take some work to get to. Field Museum and Shedd Aquarium are both fun times, although the Shedd is kinda pricey I think. They're right next to each other though so a day doing both is convenient. If you are doing any of the museums, keep your eyes peeled for the "Mold A Rama" machines, where for $5 you can watch the machine injection-mold you a souvenir. Often the museums have custom machines for various exhibits (the Death exhibit at the Field had a skull one, for instance).

There are two train systems in Chicago: the "El" (the color-coded trains you see in movies all the time) and the Metra. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES TAKE THE METRA TRAIN ANYWHERE. The Metra is a commuter rail designed for people who know how to use it, and they don't announce stops or even sometimes have signage; often the train won't stop at a platform unless it's told to during certain times of day. It is extremely easy to get extremely lost on the Metra and end up somewhere you do not want to be. If you are taking public transit, even if it seems less convenient, stick to buses and the El trains. The El and Metra run on different tracks so it's easy to avoid the Metra, but I always like to warn folks.

Okay, I think that's the highlights, minus some parks and such; I hope you have a great time! Feel free to hit me if you have questions.

#chicago #tourism

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funbearer · 1 month

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In the quaint town of Talkeetna, Alaska, a most unusual mayor captured the hearts of locals and tourists alike. Stubbs the cat began his unexpected political career in 1997 when local residents, dissatisfied with the human candidates, encouraged each other to vote for Stubbs as a write-in candidate. To the town's amusement and surprise, Stubbs won the election, beginning his tenure as Talkeetna's honorary mayor.

Stubbs' office was the counter of Nagley's General Store, where he would hold "office hours," often seen lounging in a bed on one of the counters or sipping catnip-laced water from a wine glass, a sight that delighted visitors and became a unique tourist attraction. His gentle demeanor and approachable presence made him a beloved figure who helped promote the town and drew visitors from all over the world.

Throughout his 20 years in office, Mayor Stubbs survived an attack by a dog, a fall into a cold fryer (which was thankfully switched off), and a close encounter with the wheel of a car. Despite these adventures, Stubbs continued to serve until his peaceful passing in 2017, leaving behind a legacy that exemplifies how even the smallest and unlikeliest candidates can leave a big impact on a community.

#mayor #cat #Alaska #Talkeetna

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impulseimpact · 8 months

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they grow so fast [first form] [second form]

momochilin (momoxtli means popcorn in nahuatl)

swidden farming or "slash and burn" is a technique where in order to create a patch of arable land people cut down the vegetation in the are and then burn it so that the remains can help the harvest grow, this technique is very important culturally but it also has some awful consequences to the environment so theres been a push to convince people to stop using it [source 1] [source 2]

since chapuleaf is also a corn he became one with the flames and now has become popcorn, which covers him like a shield, and his wings move at such speed that it can now make kernels pop just by placing them near its wings, its also inspired partially by a locust

ahuixolot

the ahuizotl is a creature from mexican mythology, a creature that lives under the water and uses its long tail with a hand on the end to drag people and drown them, some times its described as a "water dog" and others as an actual semiaquatic mammal that might have gone extinct

xochilotl

Axolotls where once known to (and theres a small chance that they might still) inhabit the Xochimilco lake, a very popular lake in Mexico city, the main attraction is small boats known as trajineras used to travel trough the different canals of the region, this place also has quite a few chinampas and although its considered a natural reserve it faces a lot of problems with pollution due to being a popular location for tourists to visit

#my art #oc #oc art #creature design #artists on tumblr #faketober #fakemon #fakemon art #grasshopper #axolotl #xoloitzcuintle #locust #ahuizotl #mesoma region

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someuncreativity · 11 months

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Fuck it here’s part two of

My Ranking of How Quickly I’d Let These Fictional Men Rearrange My Organs

Still BotW/TotK edition because look at these men

You get the point, it’s gonna be hella NSFW because read the title

Oh but also this time I’m formatting the prompts like Stanzi Potenza’s “Animated Men I Would Sell My Body To At a Discount Price, The Discount Being Free Because I Would Never Make These Fine Gentlemen Pay For a Whore Like Me” series on YouTube

Cuz why not

But also this is just me thirsting after the most atrocious and/or attractive men in the Zelda universe

6. Master Kogha

This man may not be a fine dining experience, but he’s definitely worth your time for a banana or two.

A solid six-out-of-ten, the only thing that rivals your hatred for his superhero alter ego is his dad bod that puts furry artists on Twitter to shame.

They say that everything’s better with friends, and this man has a couple that would sweeten the deal, and as it happens, red spandex is absolutely up my alley.

A dork playing glorified dress-up doesn’t sound fun until his devotion to a demon king threatens an entire nation, and I am 100% here for it.

5. Revali

Fun fact, my favorite bird to eat is chicken, partially because I’m basic, but also because I could see myself sinking my canines into that cock.

His aim is im-peck-able, pun intended and unashamed, and he’s certain to get a bullseye into my heart.

I know he’s an egomaniac, but in the deep, dark, crevices of my mind, I know he’s mentally ruined. It’s the lifelong trauma and the “I can fix him” for me.

I love Rito clothing, especially since this man’s version of is the sluttiest thing on earth. After looking at him, I’m certain I’m not getting cold anytime soon.

He could treat me like the scum of the earth and I’d still be on all fours polishing his arrow free of charge. He’s like if a Disney prince realized he was a Disney prince.

4. Daruk

The only Goron I’d let pound me like a quarry, this man has warmed my heart like the fiery maw of his hometown’s tourist trap.

I could write a fifty-page essay about how this man’s kindness makes My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic look like more of a joke than it already is.

I know what I’ve said about Gorons literally crushing me to death, but as long as his words of encouragement are the last thing I hear as he erupts inside of me like Death Mountain, that’s all that really matters.

That loincloth isn’t doing much in the way of covering up his Boulder Breaker, and for that, I thank the weak fabric for its service to our nation. On the plus side, it’s white, so if he ever walks in the rain, that cloth’s purpose in life will have been fulfilled.

The fact that he has a grandson makes him not just a DILF but a GILF. In my opinion, fathers age like wine, so this is a win-win for me.

Combined with his white beard which resembles a mane more than facial hair, he’s like Santa if Santa was somehow both more and less cuddly at the same time.

And I know he’s afraid of dogs, but personally, that’s fine. I’m more of a cat person anyway.

3. Teba

Take everything I said about Revali and multiply it by the “white hair equals sexy” principle, and you have the new Rito chief.

I didn’t think it was possible to find anyone edgier than the spirit inside of the Master Sword, but here we are.

It is taking every ounce of my soul not to say “I can fix him” because clearly, I can’t and he doesn’t want me to.

. I would let him cry his heart out after nearly losing everything near and dear to him. There’s no shame, sweetie.

His wings are long, and I know of a few things that are longer. Given that he has procreated, it’s clear that the hot springs aren’t the only things that’ll be hot and steamy after a night with him.

Speaking of which, he’s a loving parent and a loving husband, which makes him a DILF, and let me tell you, the second that word becomes an adjective, the snow isn’t the only white thing covering the Hebra mountains.

If he could fly me into the skies, I would watch the sunset with him in silence as we realized the real magic was inside us all along or something like that. Whatever makes him happy, and yes, if he asks for it, that includes me swallowing a few of his bird eggs.

2. Tauro

Finally, a himbo the people can rely on.

We love seeing strong, partially-head-empty men being strong, partially-head-empty men.

Only I’m pretty sure this himbo is actually smart.

Idk I haven’t played enough or focused enough in Kakariko to find out lol

This man is investigating the ring ruins but he forgot about the ring he he to put on my finger.

He is giving “I’m going to save the world” and we love that. If you don’t, I see why- I did just say I liked villains- but I’m a double-sided coin.

Speaking of coins, flip one: head or tails? Which part of me is going to need to be replaced by Rauru? I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care.

I personally have some depths for him to explore, and let me tell you, it’s gonna be the cave feeling his gloom infiltrate every orifice instead, and the cave will thank him.

His hair is giving the Hot Topic version of Melanie Martinez, and let me tell you, if I wasn’t a Crybaby, this man would have turned me.

I just love that every single Hylian around is taller than Link. I also love, however, that this man also towers over them too. Honestly, that makes things even better for me personally.

As long as Miss Papaya over there doesn’t realize that Link isn’t half the hero her grandma made him out to be, we won’t have problems. No worries here, chief, just doing some Zonai excavating.

1. King Dorephan

It’s known that this man singlehandedly defeated a Guardian, but judging by his measurements, all of which make the Empire State Building look like a stack of building blocks, it’s not hard to see how.

The leader of the Zora, this man is guaranteed to make any traveler feel right at home- hopefully, between the two logs he calls legs and the other two which he uses for other less savory deeds.

Not that I would mind, he could stretch my throat out to a time when the community will stop complaining about how the company keeps retconning the story with one and turn me into a make seahorse during conception with the other and I’d still have room. I have no shame.

If his son is a ten, he would have still been a ten before inflation.

You have to love a rich man with anatomically-correct shark organs. Jaws was really just my wake-up call after all, but not really because I like my men to talk dirty.

All I ask for in life is for this DILF to stretch me like taffy and squash me like a grape. Once that is achieved, I don’t care what Ganon does to Hyrule- I found my own sacred realm, thank you very much.

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745voiceofthepeople · 6 months

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My turn for an ask @745voiceofthepeople !

What do you think about a mermaid AU except the Fire Family are the mermaids and not the Water Tribe family?

Katara and Sokka are desperately trying to prove that they can be good pirates/fisherman(I don’t know which) to their parents so they go out on the sea by themselves. While out there, they accidentally catch two mermaids their age.

Mermaids are regarded as myths so Sokka is so happy to show their parents that they caught them but Katara feels guilty. She knows that if they bring them back to the tribe they’ll never be allowed to leave. In a split second decision, she frees them both much to her brother’s annoyance.

They return to the village and don’t talk about the mermaids but that night Katara hears something pattering against her window. She looks outside to see someone in the water, throwing fish at her window. Azula claims she came back because she wants to know why Katara let her and her brother go. This begins Azula and Katara’s friendship and later relationship.

I love this idea!

It’s a unique twist of the Water/Fire dynamic. And I am all here for it! Remind me of your mermaid Katara AU, but I love the twist with Azula being a mermaid now.

And I can defiantly see Sokka and Katara reacting in the way that they do. Both have demonstrated a desire to live up to their parents expectations/example in canon. So I can easily see that being translated into this AU.

What’s also Interesting is the difference in how Pirates and fisherman may treat Mermaids.

If you go fisherman, I can easily see Hakoda (though perhaps not Kya) wanting to either use mermaids Zuko and Azula as “hunting dogs” (to use a categorical term) to lure fish into nets and other things of that ilk. Thus Azula and Zuko would be used for this practical purpose. Enforcing a kind of servitude. With Waterbenders being around to ensure neither could swim away and escape. Katara would probably come to a similar conclusion. Leading her to not pity, but sympathize with Azula and Zuko.

Or depending of the tribes beliefs, I can also see Hakoda, Kanna, and the tribe viewing as mythical beast sent as a blessing from the spirits. Being used in either the above capacity. Or being kept as “honored guest” in a gilded cage. Either way, neither option would be a life Katara would wish on herself or on another sentient being. Especially not a cute mystical being like mermaid Azula. Leading her to not pity, but sympathize with Azula and Zuko and to let them go despite whatever benefits (material or spiritual) their capture may bring the tribe. Much to Sokka’s chargin

In regards to the pirates, I can see them wanting to keep Mermaid Azula and Zuko as “pets”. Tourist attractions to attract wealthy patrons from all over the world. Pretty much being held as indentured servants or entertainment. Something that Katara (despite being a pirate herself) would not stand for.

With Azula, I can see her being absolutely befuddled that an enemy (humans) that had captured her and her (dum dum) brother decided to let them go. They (Katara and Sokka) had them “dead to rights”. So why did the human girl cut the net and let them go? Which would lead to seek out Katara for answers. On just exactly what the (pretty) human girl is playing at?

From there, Azula and Katara have many conversations, and slowly but surely fall for one another. I can even see a scene where Azula shows Katara around the sea floor.

This is an amazing idea @waterfire1848 !!!

#azutara #avatar the last airbender #ask #azula #katara #mermaid with a twist

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ellitx · 10 months

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Derisive 2 | Heizou x Reader

Where Heizou decided to investigate and uncover Watatsumi Island's secret, and further investigate the mysterious shrine maiden in his own way.

part 2 of Derisive and one of my birthday fics for him. One year later and ive finally finished it lol. I might make this a series but updates will be sporadic since i still have to draft more outlines for a good plot and progress

fem!reader

artist: max_eera

word count: 6.4k

“Are you really that wary of me, Miss Shrine Maiden? I have told you, I’m here for a little trip.”

Ignoring his attempt in making a conversation with you, you could only huff as you put a good distance between him.

“I have my own intuition whether I trust you or not, Detective Heizou. Sure, you may be the renowned greatest detective in Inazuma but that doesn’t mean we’d let you do as you please.”

Cold fierce eyes, squared-up shoulders, gritted teeth—

“Intuition you say?”

He smirked, looking over his shoulder to peer at your frowning face. Without a doubt, you’re an aggressive woman. It’s a shame you always seem so grumpy and your temple would grow out wrinkles the often you do that.

Quite ironic he detests prejudice yet he’s doing it now. For a young shrine maiden such as yourself, you’re quite the character.

At his silence, you raised a brow at the young man before you in bafflement as he softly chuckled to himself. Whatever he was thinking, you hoped he wasn’t plotting against the island or planning to poke his nose around to where it shouldn’t be. Hearing rumors of him, the only way to silence him is through force— even if he’s the Shogunate’s loyal dog.

The man stopped in his tracks— almost having you bump into him if not for your quick reflex to notice his figure pausing. You eyed him intuitively whilst he stared at the scenery of Watatsumi Island.

Heizou’s breath slowed down. All pastel hues of this island will surely attract tourists to visit this side of Inazuma since the Sakoku Decree has ended. A small smile lifted up on his face before he turned his gaze back to you.

“Say, Miss Shrine Maiden—“

“[Name]. I have a name, Mister Detective.”

“Miss [Name]," He corrected. "Are there any cases arising here? Perhaps cases of a thief who stole a precious item, or mysteries left unsolved here such as the long lost treasure left by the Watatsumi Omikami?”

“There are no cases here and no treasures as well. If you want to go adventuring you’d be better off to go back to Narukami Island and take some commissions provided by the Adventurer’s Guild.”

Your eyes flashed open upon the realization of your words. That’s it! Giving him a case would have him preoccupied and absorbed. Once he’s gone, then the concern is finally out of the way. And you can finish discussing your unfinished business with General Gorou…

“Ah, actually, I do have a case for you.”

Heizou had his attention on you. His eyes glimmered in interest as he folded his arms over to his chest.

“Oh? Do enlighten me, please.”

“I have asked a friend of mine, who’s a traveler from afar, to assist us in finding the Heart of Watatsumi. Perhaps you’d be interested in taking this commission?”

Once his demeanor changed, you knew you caught his attention with your interesting offer. This is the chance he’d stop nosing around, and he wouldn’t bother anyone because after all, the traveler has already—

“Miss [Name], I’m disappointed you have the audacity to lie right in front of a detective. But I commend you for having the courage to do so.”

He smiled— or rather, sneered— at your petty attempt in fooling Inazuma’s greatest detective.

Staring back at him, you drove the corner of your lips to turn up and hid your clenched fists underneath your sleeves. Very cunning, without a doubt, but who said you couldn’t battle him through wits?

However, before the flames arose, a bundle of blonde locks of a certain traveler came into view together with her companion. Disappointing with the turn of events that Lumine unintentionally intervened, yet a blessing that she put an end to the silent fume between the detective and a shrine maiden lest it could lead to another war.

It would bring shame to you as the loyal servant of Lady Sangonomiya if that were to happen after all the efforts of bringing down the Sakoku Decree and the Vision Hunt Decree.

“Heya, [Name]! And hello… um…" Paimon looked over to the man next to you and leaned close to her partner to whisper. "Traveler, do you know who this guy is?”

Paimon asked the latter to her partner, yet both you and Heizou heard it clearly. After all, Paimon is never the type to be discreet and she’s in fact the opposite of considerate. Being conscionable wasn’t necessarily a bad thing yet when you partner it up with the floating creature, it’s much worse than bad.

Lumine berated Paimon with gritted teeth and apologized to you and Heizou on behalf of her.

“Oh! You must be the esteemed traveler!” The detective’s eyes glimmered in excitement as he leaned closer to the said female. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you. From fighting dragons to saving the nation from a disastrous attack from a god. To see you this close in person, it feels like I am now taking the role of the main character in your story.”

His fingers were settled on his chin as he examined her carefully from top to bottom.

“Uhm…”

Raising her hands to block him from invading another inch of her space, she took a step backward to put a distance between them, yet the universe was conspiring against her as her heels slipped at the unevenness of the surface causing her to lose balance.

She searched for an object to grab onto— anything that her eyes and hands could catch on— and yet she did not do so as she feared you’d be dragged along if she attempted to. Preparing for the worse, she braced herself for the harsh collision with the ground and hoped she wouldn’t fracture any of her bones.

But the concussion has never arrived, for a tenacious pair of arms wrapped around her slim waist and caught her on time before she meets her demise. To say that you’re the one who caught her was no surprise, yet her heart hammered and rang loudly in her ears at how close your face was to hers.

“Are you alright?”

You asked lightly, like the whispers of the wind lulling in the gentle breeze here on Watatsumi Island. Lumine’s shoulders squared up, her face heating up abruptly as she nodded vigorously and held on to your clothes for dear life.

Is it just her or does the lighting behind you make you even more charming than ever? The way you gazed at her with your deep-hued eyes, eyelids lowered as your hand gripped onto her waist firmly, almost slipping out a surprised squeak out of her lips when your fingers grazed against her bare back.

She averted her gaze from you, the tips of her ears yet to cease their steaming warmth from how cool and handsome you looked when you saved her.

“Lumine?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah… thanks, [Name].”

The traveler fumbled as she struggled to stand up straight. She can’t help but think you smelled nice—

No! Now’s not the time for that!!

Meanwhile, Heizou whistled in amusement at the intriguing turn of events. Just from Lumine’s reaction alone, he can already deduce there’s something going on between you two.

Would he use this chance to investigate further? Nah, as much as interesting it was, he wasn’t the love angel, and being a wingman isn’t his kind of field or specialization. He can simply observe from afar rather than confront.

And even if he did ask Lumine, she’d only deny it.

Man alive…

Despite how she finally recovered from her clumsiness and shock, she still swayed albeit unnoticeably whilst Paimon cooled her off with her scarf.

“Wow, you’re all red right now. Do you have a fever?”

Paimon inquired as she flew over to her partner and peeked underneath her burning visage. In turn, Lumine turned her away and forced out a chuckle— a really poor and discernible attempt to brush things off. Even a mere child can connect the dots altogether.

“I-I’m fine— anyways, enough about me,”

Clearing her throat, she turned her head to you, golden eyes displaying a serious demeanor.

“I’m here for a commission to bring Shikanoin Heizou back to the Tenryou Commission.”

A loud click resonated in your head, the spark of plugs roaring into the purr of anticipation when her little partner held out a letter over to you with the eligible and elegant handwriting of the sender.

As your eyes scanned over the significant details of this so-called “missing person”, you can’t help but laugh and jutted your thumb in Heizou’s direction.

“Well, aren’t you lucky? This man right here is the one you’re looking for. Now go on and have safe travels going back to Narukami Island.”

“Woah now hold on there, Miss [Name],”

Heizou butted in and curled his lips. His right hand hovered over to the commission letter you’re holding and lowered it down. His smile gradually became wider and condescending which irked you the most. At this point, you’re like a walking bomb, ready to explode once the time runs out.

“Who told you I was going with the traveler? For all I care, the Police Station can handle themselves when Madam Kujou is there to supervise them.”

Oh how much you wanna wipe off that smug smirk etched on his face.

“And besides, I can send a letter and have Traveler hand it to them. Honestly, I’m really flattered they missed me.”

Heizou drew his shoulders displaying his satirical indifference to the situation. It can’t be helped then… It’s better to have someone watch over him if he insists on staying on this island.

“Fine,”

Heizou didn’t miss the sharp tone in your voice. He can tell you were holding yourself from lashing out at him. Though everything he does is mundane activities and nothing suspicious of sorts, it’s like passing by the lion’s cage and roaring at him.

“Lumine, pardon for this sudden request but please keep an eye on Detective Heizou. I need to get going and assist the shrine maidens.”

Giving them a short and brief bow, you bid your last farewell. “I’ll be taking my leave. If you need any assistance you can always approach General Gorou or any of the Watatsumi soldiers.”

With that, you waved your hand in goodbye to the three and left off as you withdrew from your misadventures with the detective.

“Heizou, if you don’t mind me asking…” Lumine called out to him. “I’d like to know what you’re doing here.”

The detective chuckled as he rested his elbow over his arm, deep in his thoughts. “Well, let me think for a moment… It all started a long time ago, during the war…”

Heizou began to explain his purpose for being sent here. The former Tenryou Commissioner, Kujou Takayuki, ordered him to investigate the military capabilities of Sanganomiya. However, the detective wasn’t interested in abiding by his orders and decided to treat his free trip on this island as a vacation.

“As for the mission, I thought I’d just come up with some random excuses or whatever when I reported back hence why I proposed sending a letter to the commission instead of having me go back there.”

Heizou cheekily smiled and chuckled after looking at Lumine’s perplexed state. She can already sense mischief in him and begins to understand why some folks of Inazuma are irked by him— even the shrine maiden of this island was affected by it…

Poor, [Name]…

She internally prayed for you. No wonder why you seemed so aggravated when she came onto the scene.

“So will you be sending a letter then?” Lumine inquired though the detective clicked his tongue at her and wagged his finger. Heizou’s green eyes glinted under the sunlight, his smirk widening— an announcement of sorts that was yet to unveil its magic to his audience— and it was hard to miss that he had something up on his sleeves.

“Nope, but rather, I would like to invite you to come join me.”

“Join you…?” Lumine’s suspicion grew further. It’s best to be cautious and wary around him. And knowing he’s pretty cunning and smart that he can already tell their purpose of being here based on their appearance and demeanor that gave it away, who knows if Shikanoin Heizou is a trustworthy detective as they say.

But what I’m thinking is contradicting… I heard he’s solved hard cases to help those people…

Whatever plan or motive he has, she has to make sure it’s not something dangerous or that would affect everyone here…

Eyeing him in suspicion and doubt only caused him to laugh, not even worrying the slightest bit that in front of him was the famed traveler who defeated a god and saved a nation. For all he knows, he could easily be pinned to the ground by her.

But Heizou knows.

His intuition is telling him that she was the key to solving the mystery of this island.

Walking up to her, he leaned close to her ear and whispered. The words ingressing through her ears had her shuddering as a surge of turmoil coursed through her veins.

—

“The survey status of Great Omikami’s resting place is complete and no sight of Fatui has been detected.”

“The Mouun shrine is still in development and it’s slowly rebuilding to its former glory.”

“The sango pearls are kept in the warehouse. Do not worry, we stored all the high-quality ones in preparation for the shipping tomorrow.”

“The villagers in Bourou Village are having a shortage of goods. We need to transport plentiful of produce as soon as possible…”

The last statement was inevitable given the fact how dense and barren the soils are… You heaved a heavy sigh and took a mental note of the samurais’ and shrine maidens’ reports.

Hopefully, everything goes as planned…

“Thanks. Please report this as well to General Gorou.”

This is bad. Really really bad.

Dismissing all of the samurais, you have a bad feeling something bad might happen. You know for sure the major problem here is the lack of medicines and produce. Not only that, you have to keep the Fatui away from stepping on this land after the Delusion incident that affected all the soldiers who were deceived.

And that detective…

Shikanoin Heizou is one of the major disturbances you need to handle lest he discovers Watatsumi’s affairs… Hopefully, he doesn’t cross paths with General Gorou and have the traveler bring him back to Narukami Island.

—

“W-wh-whoa, hold it right there! Are you saying Gorou’s a thief? As in, he took something valuable?!”

The little fairy hollered. Disbelief and perplexity were written all over her small round face as her brows curled up and her nose scrunched after Heizou’s proclamation.

“It’s not simple, I can’t fully explain it… It’s just my intuition.”

Heizou sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. He then eyed Lumine who was beginning to be slightly uneasy.

“This certainly doesn’t line up with the Gorou I know…” She muttered under her breath. If anything, Gorou is one of the trusted fellows she knows and for anemo-user to say something absurd about him is beyond logic. There’s no evidence of it nor good reasoning as to why Gorou would do such a thing.

“Sure, I trust your judgment. But if that’s still not enough to convince you then what about Miss [Name], the shrine maiden I was with before?”

Lumine felt herself snapping. She silently clenched her fist, her nails digging deep into her palm as she harshly glared at the young detective before her. Hearing your name spew out of his lips and claim you as a thief is even far worse than pointing out Gorou’s suspiciousness— at least by her standards.

She puts you above anyone else she has met in her travels in this vast world.

“What makes you say that?” She asked through gritted teeth and Heizou did not miss the sharpness in her tone, yet he merely brushed off her change of behavior.

“Given from her strength alone, she’s most likely trained in combat. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she’s part of the army guising as a shrine maiden to watch out for suspicious activities happening around here.”

That’s it. Lumine had enough of Heizou’s “intuitive” remarks.

“No, you’re overthinking this,” She grabbed his wrist harshly then pulled him away from the shrine. “I’m going to take you back to Ritou no matter what and investigate this Godot character.”

But Heizou broke free from her brutal grip and stayed put in his place.

Well, this is getting interesting.

“Getting too suspicious, am I?” He rubbed his wrist which was reddening, but it didn’t hurt as much as he expected. He stared at Lumine with the same vigor she was radiating before sighing. It was a big disappointment the traveler wasn’t on the same page as him for taking this adventure and solving the mystery.

“In which case, I’ll stay here and get back to you once I figure out the secret of this place.” Heizou turned his heels and waved them goodbye, taking his leave. However, Lumine rushed into view before him, using herself to stall him and prevent the detective from going anywhere.

“Fine. I’ll go with you on your investigation. But on one condition,”

Lumine, who was increasingly provoked by his previous comments, scorned then turned up her nose, declaring something remarkable— something Shikanoin Heizou himself was awaiting for this specific event to occur.

“If we don’t find any of this secret you keep talking about, you take back what you said about Gorou and [Name] and never interact with them ever again. And if you were right about [Name] and Gorou who are involved in this so-called “theft”, then I won’t get in the way of all of your investigations no matter how suspicious it may be.”

Heizou’s hunch was right. A smirk was itching on his face. One that makes this day more interesting for him than spending his time at the boring Police Station flipping through all mundane and typical missing items cases.

His front was now directly facing the traveler and he rested his hand atop of his chin.

“May I add on that offer then? If I crack the case, then tell me all you know about [Name]. Of course, an equivalent exchange must be done and it would be unfair if I get all the things I want, no?”

Heizou walked towards her and patted her shoulder. Leaning in close to her ear, he then whispered. “Think this thoroughly on what you would add to this proposition you started yourself. I’m even willing to offer myself up to assist you in any way I can, that is if you win, Traveler.”

—

After Lumine and Paimon had a thorough discussion on what to do, they decided to investigate Borou Village late at night and follow Todoroki, the man responsible for the caravans. It’s the best time to trail after them yet a risky job because of how open the village is.

Although, it would’ve been better if the little fairy had kept her mouth shut. Heizou had his hand over Paimon’s mouth to silence lest Todoroki and Tokuda could catch sight of them.

“Keep quiet! We don’t want to be caught when we’re this close to finding out the truth!”

Heizou lightly scolded her as Lumine looked over to her shoulder and took a peek over the fence if the coast was clear. Signaling to the detective, both moved swiftly towards the small house and kept a good distance where they could still eavesdrop on their conversation and note down important details.

Just as Lumine was about to steal a peek at them again, the familiar sight of her dearest shrine maiden was walking to where the two men were. Your hair was tied into a ponytail that swayed as you strolled along the trail. And the big crates you were carrying were hard for her to miss.

Her heart dropped. She knew right away where she was going.

“[Name]?!” she whispered to herself in dismay.

Paimon was startled by Lumine's reaction and turned back to look at her with wide eyes. But thankfully, Heizou was able to suppress her voice and keep her down before she could act recklessly and ruin their cover.

“I guess that’s all of them?” They heard your voice behind the small hut, the sound of a crate’s woods crackling on one another can be heard as well. Heizou deduced you must have stacked them up.

“Amazing as ever, Todoroki! Your intel was spot on!” One of the Watatsumi soldiers exclaimed with a laugh. “We wouldn’t have done this without the assistance of [Name].”

The soldier slapped his hand over your shoulder, earning a groan from you before taking his hand off of you. “Everyone did their part as well. Don’t give all the credit to me.” You remarked.

Todoroki circled the area, checking for any damages to the supplies. “Everything seems in order and the price of the grain in the village has decreased thanks to you.” He hummed in appraisal.

“It’s great you’ve brought medicine for us, Todoroki.” The other Watatsumi soldier said before continuing, “I would have never thought the injuries we sustained in the war would have a lingering effect on our bodies…”

“Don’t push yourself you two,” Patting both of their shoulders, you gave them a lighthearted smile. “The island still needs you and don’t you dare die on me when you still owe me for that drink I made you.”

Both of the soldiers chuckled at your joke and thanked you profusely. You just let it slide and continued, "Oh! I almost forgot!" You turned around to the two men, "The wagons are prepared!”

“Before that, what’s the state of the village's inventory?” Todoroki questioned. The voices faded out from Lumine’s ear, still in disbelief you were part of this suspicious activity. You’re not that kind of person, right? That’s not the [Name] she knows so well!

In the background, you and the soldiers walk away from the scene, giving the opportunity to Heizou and his companions to further investigate the area and in this case they’re dragged with.

“The soldiers seized the Nobushi’s stolen goods?!” The little fairy’s comment made it even more difficult for the traveler.

“And they never intend to return it to the International Trade Association…” Lumine added. Her heart feels heavy and her stomach churning from discovery. Bringing her palm to her lips, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With everything that’s going on here, it might take some time for her to digest this information.

Heizou eyed her from the sidelines, observing her pale features and change in behavior. He can’t blame her. If he were in her shoes, he’d lose his trust in his friend too. But as a detective, you shouldn’t always trust what’s in front of you and only trust yourself.

Heizou patted Lumine’s shoulder, snapping her out of her train of thought. “Todoroki said he’ll get instructions from Gorou tomorrow. There’s something else behind this.” His touch was almost reassuring her that he’d crack the case and reveal the hidden truth. Lumine can’t help but scoff coldly to herself. It’s ironic, really, that the detective was showing her sympathy despite their recent negotiation about [Name] and Gorou.

But despite all these, she can sense no malice or mockery from his touch. Maybe he has a good heart after all, and yet…

No, I have to focus on this. Snap out this, Lumine! I still know [Name] is a good person! Maybe she has a good reason behind all these things…

Investigating through those boxes it’s mostly herbs and flowers such as qingxin flowers and glazed lilies… And according to Heizou’s deduction, it should be for medicinal purposes. From the corner of Lumine’s eye, she saw a piece of paper sticking out from the crate and faded written letters of “Foreign Trade Association”.

Perhaps a bill of sorts…

“If these crates were to be imported from Ritou, the price would be jaw-dropping,” Heizou remarked.

[Name]’s a good person!

“On top of that, these items seem to lack a tax clearance certificate, meaning they were most likely smuggled.”

That’s right! It’s all those thieves' fault. It had nothing to do with them.

“Did you find anything else, Traveler?” Lumine jumped and shook her head.

“Oh, ugh, unfortunately nothing…” Heizou squinted his eyes at her and she was practically sweating bullets when he never took his eyes off of her. She coughed to divert his attention to somewhere else.

The detective can only sigh and leave her be to give her some space. Across his vision, two figures were coming their way. Oh, speak of the devil. The two soldiers who were with you are now here. Heizou smirked behind his hand, closely observing and listening to their conversation. Now’s the good time to dig for information from them to confirm his suspicions.

—

The goods are prepared and ready to set off. The last thing to do is to wait for the ship to arrive. You sighed and wiped off the sweat rolling down your face with the sleeve of your kimono.

Please let everything go well.

The sun is bright, the corals are more colorful than ever, and Todoroki was with you at the Sangonomiya Shrine. You smiled and the man chuckled, taking in the breathtaking scenery, hoping for a peaceful voyage ahead.

“Today’s a good morning isn’t it?” You began and Todoroki could see the flowers blooming around you because of your positive state.

“Indeed a good morning.”

Huh, that’s weird. Todoroki’s voice seemed so different. “Todoroki did you drink something? Your voice seems younger.” You chuckled and the man looked a bit perplexed but then burst into laughter.

“How odd. I thought I heard someone else when it’s just the two of us here.” He laughed along with you, finding the situation quite amusing.

“Weird isn’t it? Because there’s actually someone here with you, Miss [Name].”

Your eyes were now wide open. The brightness in them had faded and transformed into one of darkness and annoyance. Though the smile on your face remained, Todoroki saw the corner of your lips twitch and the broom in your hand almost snapped into two pieces.

“Oh my. I take back what I said. This is a rather horrible morning.” The man’s laughter slowly died down as he noticed the change in your behavior and the appearance of a new guest— well, three guests to be exact— who was behind you.

The playful atmosphere vanished in mere seconds and he can sense your annoyance. Todoroki cleared his throat nervously and cautiously observed the unfamiliar red-headed man who had a striking smirk donning his youthful face.

“Ahem… uh, who are you?” The old man asked, his brows knitted together.

“Hello, Todoroki and Miss [Name]. I'm Shikanoin Heizou, special detective of the Tenryou Commission.” The detective introduced himself and he never missed the way you glared at him. He simply smiled at you and his eyes glowed as he crossed his arms over his shoulder, preparing the confrontation to finally seek the answers he’s been looking for.

“I believe you two have been manipulating large-scale illegal trades for some time now. Mind if we talk about that for a bit?” He didn’t hesitate to ask. It was now or never when the two main culprits were here before his eyes.

Lumine clenched the hem of her skirt. She’s helpless and unable to do anything to stand up for you. Even though things have already been discussed yesterday to clear things up, she still believes in you no matter what.

Todoroki was about to storm off but you managed to stop him. The baffled and shocked reaction was clear and expressive and things may get out of hand if he raged and shouted to the detective. “I don’t understand what you mean, detective.”

The detective's smirk only widened as he leaned in, maintaining his composure despite the tense atmosphere. "Oh, I think you understand perfectly well," Shikanoin Heizou said, his voice calm and collected. “Well let me make it clear for you: we've been closely monitoring the activities, and all the evidence points to the two of you."

Todoroki's face flushed with anger, his usually composed demeanor shattered by the baseless accusations. Clenching his fists, he struggled to contain the seething rage building within him. “Ridiculous! I don't have time to listen to this. Get out of here, you little brat!”

“Todoroki, calm down.” Your restraint on him was tight and firm, though his anger can never diminish at least he held back from lashing out.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose to alleviate the building headache. Your morning started off horribly already before you could even do your usual work.

“I just wanna know and confirm from you personally what we already know to be the truth.” The detective chuckled, seemingly unfazed by your glare. At this point, he’s already grown used to it now.

You cast a worried glance at the old man, realizing the severity of the situation. Lumine, though unable to intervene directly, tried to offer silent support from the sidelines. The detective's gaze shifted to her, and he raised an intrigued eyebrow.

“Argh... Masashi! Tokuda! Arrest these people!” Todoroki shouted, alerting the named soldiers. Masashi and Tokuda hesitated for a moment as they saw the intensity of his anger. They were torn between obeying their superior's orders and questioning the validity of the detective's claims.

Seeing the dangerous situation unfold, you stepped forward, your voice calm but assertive. “Wait no! Put the weapon down!”

The detective sighed, seemingly disappointed by the chaos he had caused. "Oh, but it seems like emotions are running high. Perhaps the truth is finally coming to the surface," he remarked, fueling the fire further.

You tightened your grip on Todoroki's arm, trying to anchor him and maintain control of the situation. "Enough of this nonsense! If you have any evidence, present it properly instead of making baseless claims."

The situation had escalated far beyond your expectations, and you knew that finding a way to clear your names and prove your innocence would be a daunting task. With tension still thick in the air, you hoped that rationality would prevail and that the truth would ultimately come to light.

Heizou tutted, wagging his index finger as if he was a disappointed parent. “We saw you last night, Miss [Name] and Mister Todoroki. You were with Tokuda and Masashi helping to carry the goods.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you felt your heart was about to come out of your throat. “Well, the Traveler can confirm it for me. Isn’t that right?” The redhead peered over to the said name. Lumine hesitated for a moment, torn between being truthful and not wanting to further implicate you or Todoroki. She took a deep breath and nodded.

You groaned, the defeat sinking into you slowly, eating up your entire soul. You swallowed your pride and sighed heavily. It’s better to clear up the misunderstanding than fuel this fire into madness.

You went down onto your knees and placed your head against the ground. Todoroki's eyes widened in shock, and it wasn’t just him. Even Lumine, Paimon, the two soldiers, and Heizou were surprised.

For you to kneel and beg was unexpected and Todoroki was concerned when you performed dogeza. "Hey, [Name], there's no need for that," he said, his voice softer now, realizing the toll the situation was taking on you.

Gorou came rushing in, his arms wide as he stepped in and intervened. “Everyone, please calm down!” He was panting heavily, running immediately to the Sangonomiya Shrine when he was alerted by the soldiers of the conflict occurring here.

You ignored Todoroki and pleaded for Heizou’s empathy. “Please, listen to us.” Heizou watched you with a mix of surprise and curiosity as you pleaded for understanding. The tense atmosphere seemed to momentarily ease as Gorou's presence diffused the situation slightly.

The detective crossed his arms, his expression stoic as he considered your plea.

"Fine, I'll listen," he said, though his tone still held a hint of skepticism. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you explained Watatsumi Island’s current struggle and situation.

“Watatsumi is a barren island. Growing crops here is futile…” It shattered Lumine’s heart to hear your voice wavering. “You can't grow food or medicinal herbs here. And if we buy them from Ritou, we pay exorbitant taxes.” Todoroki added, exasperation evident in his tone.

“My eldest son died fighting on the battlefield. But do you know how my second son died? He died because there was no medicine to treat him! He sacrificed himself so [Name] will be treated!”

Your stomach felt heavy, recalling the smell of rust and heavy stains of red all over your abdomen. The old man's face was etched with grief and frustration as he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. “[Name] got injured during the war and I was able to cure her before things got worse…”

You clenched your fist and bit your lip. You still didn’t raise your head. This was the only way to show and beg for the Shogunate’s mercy and understanding. Rebelling would be useless and you’d be willing to turn yourself in if that’s the only option to save your hometown.

“I beg you, please don’t tell this to the Commission… This is the only thing I ask of you, Shikanoin.” You dropped the mocking nickname and addressed him by his last name. Todoroki hated seeing you kneeling like this. His anger was boiling, fueling his rage, and it was hard to stop himself.

“Gorou, if we detain them today, the Shogunate will never know what we've done. Besides, we're only a few months away now...We will set them free once the new bill is passed in just a few months, and everything will be okay. None of what happened here will be mentioned again, and life on Watatsumi Island will continue to improve.” Todoroki convinced the general. The urgency and desperation were so evident and the gears on Heizou’s head were turning, finally confirming his case.

“I understand you’re worried about them, Todoroki. But they won’t—“

“That man’s a Tenryou Commissioner!" He cried, his voice becoming scratchy. "If we let him go free, then who's to say that the Shogunate won't come after us tomorrow? If they decide to investigate, we won't be able to hide the truth.”

The general furrowed his brows, understanding the gravity of the situation. Heizou's knowledge of the smuggling activities could be disastrous for the people of Watatsumi Island.

Todoroki looked like he was giving up. No matter how much he argued and convinced Gorou, it’ll all be useless. He’s a simple farmer and he has no power commanding the island’s government.

The atmosphere was gloomy and tense, it almost affected Lumine as well. But her eyes lit up recalling what Todoroki said.

“Wait, what is the bill you just mentioned?”

“It's a new commodity tax bill currently being drafted by the Kanjou Commission. The bill exempts taxes on goods that are in short supply on Watatsumi Island. Once the bill is introduced, we'll be able to buy commodities that we need from regular marketplaces…” Gorou explained.

Then everything clicked. Heizou chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, I see. Man alive… These all make sense now.” He settled his gaze back to you and your eyes made contact with him. Just one look at him and you can feel the dread eating you up whatever that might come out of his lips.

“Alright, in exchange to keep everything here a secret, I’ll stay here a little bit longer.”

“YOU WHAT?!” Hearing you scream at the top of your lungs and standing up surprised everyone.

Oh that shit-eating smirk is back again. The vein on your forehead was noticeable and Lumine calmed you down by pulling you back.

“Oh you heard me. I’m staying here and I’ll be able to see you more, Miss [Name].”

Your heart sank as you realized the implications of Heizou's words. He was willing to stay on Watatsumi Island, watching and wandering the coast area. You’d see him all day while you work and just the thought of it is enough to make you gag in disgust you’ll see this man.

The relief you felt about the bill that could potentially help the island was overshadowed by the fear of having a Tenryou Commissioner in your midst, ruining your peaceful life.

“Oh, come on, Miss Shrine Maiden. What’s with that look? Surely you must have noticed that, aside from being a detective, I am also an ordinary tourist who likes to enjoy good scenery?”

The annoying nickname was back again. You couldn't hide the disdain in your eyes as Heizou's smirk grew wider. Your heart sank further as you realized that the detective's prolonged stay on Watatsumi Island would indeed be a constant source of unease for you.

It wasn't just his involvement in the smuggling investigation that bothered you; it was his nosiness that annoys you the most that there's a possibility he'll take confidential information about the island and use it against you leading to another war.

Gorou and Todoroki, however, seemed unfazed by Heizou's decision to stay longer. The general saw it as an opportunity to further strengthen the island's ties with the Tenryou Commission.

"I'm glad to hear you'll be staying a little longer, Detective Heizou," Gorou said, a hint of gratitude in his tone and Todoroki nodded in agreement.

You forced a smile, not wanting to cause further tension. Deep down, you knew that they were right – accepting Heizou's presence was necessary to buy time until the new bill could be passed. Still, it didn't change the fact that you dreaded the days ahead, knowing that you'd have to endure his watchful gaze while trying to go about your daily work.

Heizou's eyes locked with yours again, and you could sense the amusement in his gaze. "Oh, come on now, Miss Shrine Maiden. I promise I won't be a bother," he said teasingly.

You gritted your teeth, suppressing the urge to retort. There was nothing you could do but play along and hope that the situation would resolve itself once the new bill was in effect.

Until then, you'd have to be on guard and keep Lady Sangonomiya close and safe, all while enduring the presence of a suspicious and nosy Tenryou Commissioner on Watatsumi Island.

#elliwrites #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou genshin #shikanoin heizou genshin

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britany1997 · 1 year

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Paul and Fishy: True Love’s Fish

Here’s my little early Valentine’s Day gift to y’all❤️ hope you enjoy this!

(Also big s/o to all my Fishy fans, he loves y’all too, he told me😤)

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Paul strutted down the boardwalk with Fishy in tow. After months of begging, Paul had finally agreed to take him along on the boys’ infamous nightly visits. Paul had flown to the boardwalk, forgoing his bike for the night, and all the boys had been recruited to help keep Fishy safe.

When they had protested, Dwayne had mentioned that if they didn’t agree to protect the goldfish, there was a real possibility the car could go missing again.

David had lifted some bubble wrap from the post office, and wrapped a layer around Fishy’s bowl. Marko held it, his hands generally much steadier than Paul’s, as they walked past the stands where vendors tried to push their rigged games on unwitting tourists. Fishy swam in circles contentedly, happy to be let into this part of Paul’s life.

Paul smiled as he walked next to Fishy, pointing out all the boys’ favorite places to the excited goldfish. Fishy blinked and bubbled back to all Paul’s rambling, until he caught sight of something that made him freeze.

“…and that’s why we can’t go on the carousel anymore. Shame really, best place to pick up babes, you tell ‘em, ‘you look good riding that horse baby, but you’d look better riding me!’” Paul said, laughing at his own joke.

When he was met with silence, Paul’s brow furrowed. “Hey Fishy,” Paul said waving his hand in front of Fishy’s bowl, Marko rolling his eyes as he watched, “did you get it? Because you ride horses on a carousel? This is like, my best stuff bud!” Paul looked at Fishy concerned.

The goldfish usually would have humored Paul, but he was entranced, staring at one particular stand. Paul looked to follow Fishy’s line of sight until he too was looking at another goldfish, a prize for one of the games.

Paul gasped in surprise, “Fishy! You’re more dog than fish right now dude! She looks like she totally digs you!”

Paul was right, the other Fish returned Fishy’s soulful gaze, seemingly as transfixed as he was. Paul glanced back and forth between Fishy and the goldfish in the stands. He sighed.

Paul thought about how Fishy had listened to him talk through every silly little fight he had with his three, devilishly attractive, boyfriends. How Fishy had spent many a night in Marko’s room because Paul had brought home someone to…keep him company. Fishy has always been a good friend to Paul when it came to his love life.

Paul looked down at the cash in his pocket and knew what he had to do. It was time to return the favor.

“C’mon Marko,” Paul commanded, “we’ve gotta see a man about a fish.”

Marko groaned, but followed Paul anyway, carrying Fishy with him.

Paul walked up to the booth that housed Fishy’s mate and handed the vendor five bucks, “three baseballs please.” Paul asked with a smile on his face.

The vender nodded and handed the blond vampire the baseballs.

Paul wound up and tossed the first one at a tower of bottles. He missed. ‘No problem,’ he thought, ‘I’ve still got two.’

After he failed to even get close to the bottles with his other two tosses, his smile faltered. This was going to be harder than he thought…

Fifteen balls later, Paul was down to his last fiver, which he slammed down onto the counter with gusto. “I’ll take three more balls,” he spoke while glaring at the booth’s vendor. Marko sighed, still holding Fishy’s bowl tightly in his arms. Paul turned back to shoot Marko a pointed look.

“This is serious Mark,” Paul spit, “do you want Fishy to die alone???”

Fishy blinked.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’m just stressed,” Paul replied, “I’m gonna do this for you I promise! You’re my best friend and you deserve to be happy.”

Marko made a disgusted face, “your best friend?” He asked.

“You’re my best BOYfriend,” Paul said back, “don’t tell the others,” he whispered.

Paul turned back to the game stand vendor, who looked genuinely confused at the bizarre conversation. “Balls” Paul demanded. Marko stifled a laugh while the vendor placed the baseballs in Paul’s hand.

Paul wound up and threw the first ball. He missed. He would up again and threw the second ball. Missed again. Paul took his last ball and brought it to his lips, giving it a kiss. “Please,” he whispered to the ball, “let me do this for my friend, please.” He all but prayed, his eyes closed and brow furrowed.

Paul wound up once more and threw his last ball, holding his breath as it whizzed through the air.

Paul, Marko, and Fishy watched as the ball collided with the tower of bottles. The force from the baseball sent bottles flying until there was just one left, rocking back and forth on the ledge. Paul was shaking from anticipation begging for the bottle to just fall already.

In a last ditch effort, he blew softly at the bottle while the vendor’s back was turned. The bottle rocked one last time before clattering to the ground with a bang. Paul had won.

Paul jumped up and down with excitement, Fishy wiggled his fins with joy, Marko gasped in disbelief, and the vendor rolled his eyes apathetically.

“I did it Fishy!” Paul exclaimed, “now you can be with your soulmate!”

Fishy blinked rapidly.

“Geez calm down bud,” he told Fishy, “you don’t wanna look tooooo eager in front of the ladies.”

Fishy blinked.

“Smooth,” Paul said, winking at him.

Fishy let out three bubbles as he stared affectionately at the other Fish. As she looked into his eyes deeply, the fish let out three bubbles back. Paul gasped, “she really is the one!” He exclaimed. Fishy turned to blink at him in affirmation.

The vendor handed Paul the bag containing the goldfish which he subsequently poured into Fishy’s bowl with him. The two fish swam in circles around each other, obviously excited to be together. Paul looked on smiling, “I think I’ll call her Goldy,” he said happily, as Marko pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Paul reclined on his bed with Goldy and Fishy’s bowl in his lap. He smiled down at them as he watched them blink to each other.

After awhile, Fishy looked up and blinked at Paul.

“Oh! My bad you guys!” Paul said, “I’ll just uh- I’ll get out of your way.”

Paul placed the fishbowl on top of his bedside table and left the room to go into the lobby. But before he did, he turned back one more time, while he couldn’t be absolutely sure, he seemed to have caught sight of the fish sharing a sweet kiss.

Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye he whispered, “that’s my boy,” his voice full of pride for his best friend.

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Taglist🐠:

@anna1306 @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @pixielostboy @6lostgirl6 @henhouse-horrors @whataminute-whowantstoknow @solobagginses

#the lost boys #paul lost boys #paul tlb #tlb #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #Paul and fishy #fishy #the lost boys fic #marko lost boys #marko tlb

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stephensmithuk · 5 days

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The Sign of Four: The End of the Islander

Mediæval is an archaic spelling of medieval, using the æ letter that is rare in English, but far more common in Danish, Norwegian and Icelandic, for example.

Ceylon was the name used for what is now Sri Lanka until 1972, when that country (which become independent in 1948) become a Republic. Today, the name only really remains in the country for Ceylon tea, apparently for marketing reasons.

There has been a police force dedicated to the Thames since 1798, being founded as the privately funded Marine Police to tackle the high volume of cargo theft from ships there. Two years later, the government set up the Thames River Police to replace the successful force. The Metropolitan Police took it over in 1839 and made it the Thames Division, it now being called the Marine Policing Unit. Historically, they also did search and rescue, today done by the RNLI.

They had just acquired their first steam launches by 1888, historically relying on rowing boats that had proved inadequate in an 1878 two-ship collision that had killed 600 to 700 people.

Gravesend is on the south bank of the Thames, twenty-one miles from Charing Cross. It was the first port of entry into London for a long time, but the opening of Tilbury Docks on the other side of the river took much of its traffic. The pilot station for the Port of London remains there, along with a RNLI lifeboat station.

There was also a ferry from Gravesend to Tilbury until March 2024, when it stopped due to lack of funding from the 'bankrupt' Thurrock Council, despite being popular.

Pocahontas is also buried in Gravesend.

The Downs is a ship anchorage off the port of Deal in Kent; ships would - and still do - anchor there to protect themselves from strong southerly or westerly winds (as the coast blocked them) or if waiting for suitable winds to head elsewhere. Indeed, the port town grew up to deal (pun intended) with their needs during their says.

There would be six bridges east of Westminster Bridge on the Thames at this time; Tower Bridge, opened in 1886, would be the easternmost crossing point that a pedestrian or carriage could use at this point. The Thames Tunnel was by now a railway tunnel. Those to the east of that were reliant on ferries until 1897, when the western part of the Blackwall Tunnel opened, in a few years becoming the bottleneck it still is to this day.

St Paul's Cathedral, at 111m high, was the tallest building in London from 1710 until 1939 when Battersea Power Station was completed at two metres taller. . Today, there are still restrictions on building new skyscrapers in London to ensure the catherdal can still be viewed.

The Tower of London had been a tourist attraction since at least the Elizabethean period; it was getting over 500,000 visitors a year by the end of the century, but still retained some non-tourist uses.

The Pool of London is the bit of the river from London Bridge to Limehouse - it was the site of the original port until the Docklands were built to deal with massive overcrowding. The maritime industry here effectively collapsed along with the rest of the docks in the 1960s, but this area hasn't seen as much regeneration as parts further east.

The West India Docks were three large docks and associated buildings built at the beginning of the 19th century (1800 to 1802) to deal with trade to/from the British West Indies, to wit the sugar produced by the slave labour in the plantations there; Robert Milligan, its architect, was a slave trader who was unhappy about the delays and theft of his goods at the wharves, so wanted a more secure facility. Closed in 1980, it was converted into the Canary Wharf development, with the famous Underground station built in the former middle dock.

Now I have mistaken a Newfoundland dog for a coat-wearing homeless person in the dark myself - they are very big dogs. However, this has to be taken in the context of the rest of the description of Tonga.

Barking Level is where the River Roding enters the Thames. It is a largely industrial area today.

Plumstead Marshes were an area of low-lying soggy ground that was used by the Royal Arsenal (see "The Bruce-Partington Plans") as a testing range; no human inhabitants (since Roman times, when the water levels were lower) and the soft ground could absorb explosions better. They were drained in the 1960s and most of the area become the new community of Thamesmead; one of those "futuristic estates" that instead became crime-ridden due to bad planning and lack of amenities, which have not yet been fully corrected.

A slightly graphic (including a nasty facial/eye injury) discussion of the problems of recovering bodies from the Thames can be found in this February 2024 news article on the search for a chemical attacker's body: https://news.sky.com/story/the-traumatising-search-for-dead-bodies-in-the-thames-and-why-dozens-are-found-every-year-13071612

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #history #factoids #acd canon #the sign of four #sign

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scriveyner · 2 years

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always summer #20

always summer #20: fireworks | bungou stray dogs |👿🐯 | #kinktober 🔞| ~1100 words

Dazai was perched on the metal guardrail, watching the sea of pedestrian traffic flowing between the park attractions. It was dusk already, and this stretch of the arcade was lit by strands of bare-bulb lights strung between vendor stalls, interspersed with colorful, if faded, pennant flags. The lights on the attractions moved in patterns, under which people clustered for chances to win cheap prizes by knocking over milk cans or popping balloons with darts.

Continue on ao3 or:

Chuuya was a dark figure weaving efficiently through the ever-moving throng of people; he emerged near Dazai carting two covered boxes, a plastic garbage-bag-sized bag of popcorn under his arm, and enormous drinks in his other hand. To his credit, he was managing all of this food without the telltale red glimmer of his ability at work, and Dazai could only be a little impressed at the fact that he was holding both enormous cups in the same hand by their bottoms.

“What’s all this?” Dazai asked as he was handed a box, hot with food inside and the bottom wet with grease.

Chuuya looked around. “Huh, did we lose Atsushi and Akutagawa?”

“They’ve been gone a while now, just like you. Atsushi-kun was hungry, and Akutagawa-kun clearly loves indulging him.” Dazai plucked a perfectly deep-fried piece of food out of a sea of soggy fries. “What is this?”

“Dunno. Chicken, hopefully. They were deep-frying everything in sight, so there’s no telling.”

Dazai bit into it without further inspection and made no noise of distress, so it was at least edible. Chuuya leaned the closed plastic bag of popcorn against the rail before he opened his own box of food. “Glad I didn’t bother to haul food over for them too, then,” he said, and Dazai nodded his head, absently people-watching. “The burger prices here are obscene, they must be making money hand over fist. We oughta get in on it.”

“Opening a food truck in a heavily tourist-infested area and price-gouging?” Dazai chewed on a fry. “Retirement plans are for people who aren’t planning on killing themselves when they finally convince the love of their life to join them in the sweet abyss.”

“Remind me to take you off the liability insurance.”

Dazai smirked to himself and continued to eat fries, still watching the crowds of people and looking to pick out a familiar pair but not seeing them yet. “Hey, how many cheeseburgers do you think Atsushi can eat?”

Chuuya tilted his head back, elbows hooked over the rail. “Total, or in one sitting?”

“I don’t think there’s a number high enough to gauge the first.”

“Point. Counterpoint,” Chuuya pointed at Dazai with a fry, who then leaned over and took it from Chuuya’s fingers with his mouth. “How much money you got, because I’m pretty sure it would bankrupt the Port Mafia.”

They both laughed, the noise lost under the clamor of the amusement park.

~*~

The promenade was the place to be, filling up quickly with people all lining up for the best positions to watch the show. They were far enough away from the wide, paved paths around the lake the amusement park sat on that the risk of discovery was minimal, but all the same Atsushi kept a nervous eye out for movement. “If you were so worried about being caught,” Akutagawa said breathlessly, leg hiked over Atsushi’s hip and shoulders pressed to the bark of the large old tree, “you wouldn’t have initiated.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” Atsushi said distractedly, hands shifting back to Akutagawa’s hips, holding him tight and keeping him pressed back into the tree. “I wasn’t thinking at all, really, I just really, really wanted to kiss you.”

Akutagawa wet his lips and groaned softly; his hand curled in Atsushi’s shirt. “You’ve done more than just kiss me,” he grunted, but he wasn’t chastising, just stating a fact that he was clearly, clearly enjoying. He grunted again and let out a soft little groan as Atsushi changed his stance, which changed the way his cock was pressed into Akutagawa’s walls.

“It’s not my fault you looked so cute coming off that roller coaster,” Atsushi was panting now, bouncing Akutagawa slightly on his dick, half grinding and half thrusting. “Your hair was all silly and you were smiling, what was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to kiss me, ah,” Akutagawa’s legs tightened on his sides. “There.”

“There?” Atsushi found the spot again and honed in on it, and they were lost in each other, shortened breaths and soft moans shared between them. Akutagawa’s mouth stayed open as he panted, hand tight on the back of Atsushi’s neck, and Atsushi’s eyes were locked on his, so close, so close—

In the distance, they both could hear the roar of the crowds and, a split second later, thunder in the night as the fireworks show began in earnest. The brilliant colors lit them up even hidden as they were in the tight cluster of trees, golds and reds and greens dappling Akutagawa’s skin; and he laughed, catching Atsushi’s shirt in both hands and pulling him into a kiss as they rocked together.

“Come on,” Akutagawa moaned against his mouth and Atsushi shifted his grip, one arm now braced against the tree, Akutagawa pressed nearly double as he slammed in again and again, until Akutagawa was sobbing his name, fingers crooked into claws and digging into Atsushi’s skin through his shirt.

Atsushi’s breath was harsh against Akutagawa’s ear, “Ryuunosuke, Ryuuno—ah, fuck…”

Akutagawa shuddered, Atsushi throbbing inside; all the tension built up and released. He could feel his heartbeat so fast, their chests nearly together; finally, Atsushi exhaled low and long.

“Sorry,” he managed, panting hoarsely into Akutagawa’s ear, the flush on his skin drowned out by the faint echoes of color bursting from the sky above. “I didn’t pull out.”

Akutagawa’s fingers tightened on the back of his skull for just a moment before releasing, his heart beating nearly as fast. “You must take responsibility for cleanup then,” he said, finally, and Atsushi laughed, nuzzling his face and kissing him again before pulling out with a wet noise.

“I can handle that,” he said, going smoothly to his knees in front of the wobbly-legged Akutagawa. He let Akutagawa support himself with a leg thrown over his shoulders, and Akutagawa twisted both his hands in Atsushi’s hair as he slid his fingers through his own mess before beginning to clean him.

Akutagawa watched the fireworks through the trees, as the show finally drew to a dramatic finale. “They’ll be looking for us,” he said idly, shuddering as Atsushi’s fingers thrust in deep, then his breath slid over Akutagawa’s sensitive dick.

“Let them look, I’m not done here.”

#bungou stray dogs #kinktober #shin soukoku #sskk #lemony fresh

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year

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Obedear

From Control - Full Story in Progress on AO3!

Graves x Shadow!Reader

You see a new side of Graves and the Shadows that's much darker than what you were used to, as a bad situation during your mission only grows worse...

TW: Torture, Blood, Somewhat Explicit Violence, Swearing, Dark, Bone-Breaking

Tags: Action, Drama, Thriller(?), Partly Pre-Canon, Swearing, Violence, Torture, Dark, Graves and Shadow Company are villains, Angst, somewhat villain Reader, Character Study, a little edgy, slight melodrama, it's just a somewhat tense situation

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: A little different than what I type normally: no romance, more action-oriented drama. Might be dumb. I just wanted to type a little villainy action stuff for Graves and Shadow Company because I'm brain dead and like writing about bad people sometimes. Let a villain be a villain, I say. (Not that I'm condoning!)

Definitely a chapter meant to demonstrate only some of the measures I feel Graves would take for the sake of covering up a fuck up. He just seems like a guy who likes to dabble in a little torture, but that's just what I think. I also like making the Y/N character person go through it. ┐( ˘_˘)┌

ԅ (≖◡≖ԅ) anyway...

Masterlist

Chapter Thirteen - Obedear

Death.

That’s what runs through your enemies minds when they see your coat of arms -- the Rook insignia of Shadow Company -- the certainty that the end has come.

The Shadows were nothing more than a frightful whisper in the night to those unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side of things. The rumored name their enemies traded after discovering yet another bloodbath left out for display.

It takes a special type of depravity to earn a title like that one; the kind of rep' that runs your blood cold. Under Phillip Graves' command, they were the hideous embodiment of the big, dark shadow in your closet. Boogeymen within the PMC ring. Beastly, merciless, and unforgiving.

Death.

Tonight, you would be the bringer of that destined death, as your target remains oblivious to the impending doom heading his way now.

"…Three, two, one. Execute!"

A small charge blows the handle off a large, metal door, breaking it from its hinges, as it sways open with an eerie creak. The noise attracts the attention of a barking dog in the distance; none from any humans however, nor passing vehicles.

You, Percy and Jeremy stand in a cramped alleyway between two neighboring apartment complexes. The lack of street lamps and available moonlight peaking over the tall, stone buildings, made the alley near pitch black in the night.

This part of Kavala wasn't as populated as the other tourists-filled spots in the city, allowing for you and your men to move in the night with little fear of attracting attention and tipping off your target. With any luck, you could be in and out with Onyx in a matter of minutes.

You flip your night vision goggles on, a hazy green hue overtaking your senses, as you take a peek into the room you'd just broken and entering into -- the back stairwell to the apartments.

Whoever runs this place didn't bother having any of the lights running in this part. You weren't likely to run into anyone this way, at least. Not without you having the upper hand.

"Shadow-1, this is Canary," you say in your comms. "We've breached the building. Entering now. How copy?"

"Good copy," Graves radios in. "Onyx's room is on the fourth floor, room 213. Radio in once you're done. If you run into any "problems", go ahead and dump 'em. Just keep it quiet, yeah?"

"Roger that, Commander. Out here."

Jeremy begins to mutter beneath his breath, "Of course he's on the fourth floor."

The man stands at the foot of the stairwell, using his rifle's scope to look up ahead. He hasn't had much to say to you since you parted from the rest of the team. It's probably the quietest you've ever heard him, which was fine by you.

"You could use the exercise," you poke at him with a whisper, moving past Shadow 2-0 to start making your way up. "Let's move."

Percy follows close behind, silently covering you, as Jeremy follows with a huff.

The stairwell was a tight squeeze, given how far up it stretches, people leaving loose laundry to dry, and their belongings scattered about. You move up quietly, listening for every possible noise.

Dim lights from the small door windows beam in like thin rays, cutting through the dark, as you advance up another set of steps. You hear the faint noises of TVs and chatter echoing from other rooms down their respective halls, unaware of your team creeping by. Indeed, this building was actively being lived in.

The sounds grow less lively as you ascend the steps, before they're replaced by the creaking of the stairwell, and your increasing pulse.

The stairwell eerily blocks out the sounds of the world outside itself, leaving you with the muted steps of your boots against the hard floor, and your low breathing.

The heavy burden of your task at hand grew more prominent.

The adrenaline rises slowly. It made your heart ring in your ears, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up beneath your mask and clothing. You'd only remember the presence of yourself when you would unconsciously swallow.

You reach the fourth floor, removing your night vision so you could peek through the door window.

Taking a small gander of the hallway, you check for signs of roaming residents. This floor seemed to house more empty rooms than the ones below it, with little to no traffic; a deliberate choice by your target no doubt, and one Onyx would soon regret.

The coast looked clear enough.

You turn to your team and give them a small nod, before opening the door and piling into the hallway. As quick as you can, you begin skimming the room numbers, keeping your rifles lowered and your heads on the swivel.

209… 210 … 211 … 212…

Room 213. The last room down the hall.

The three of you huddle around the door, your backs pressed against the wall, and your ears locked in. There's laughter erupting from inside, along with some blaring rap music, too unidentifiable from where you stand to make any of it out.

With how loud it was, there was no way Onyx, nor his men, would hear your team closing in. The chatter grew more rambunctious, multiple men's voices picking up through the walls now.

Your team all share glances with one another, running by the next plan of action with a single lock of the gaze. You recall what was discussed in your briefing hours ago, and prepare yourself.

You lift your hand up and silently begin to count down from five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Percy shoots the door handle, his silencer making the shot a "Plink!" noise, as the door lightly swung ajar. The moment it opens, Jeremy lifts his boot and kicks it in, raising his rifle and rushing into the apartment. You and Percy follow suit, your guns aimed and ready, fingers hovering over the trigger.

In a few short seconds, you take in your surroundings: One exit, a single, curtainless window across from you, a kitchen to your left -- divided by an island counter, and a hallway to your right going towards the bedrooms.

It smelt of cigarettes and dust. The apartment was small and overstuffed with tacky, old furniture and décor. Immediately, you shift your sights to the occupants of the apartment. Your target.

A group of five men sat at a round dining room table off to the left of the entrance and living room. You immediately identify Onyx by his black tracksuit and gold chain, sitting at the table's center. The man's a lot more lanky up close, scrawny even. Though his brown eyes carried the look of a seasoned killer.

They're heads all snapped to the sound of the door crashing open, startled gazes quickly twisting with rage. They reach for their pistols on the table, ready to draw, only they're a few seconds too short.

Jeremy shoots the first shot, riddling one of the guards with bullets and planting him permanently in his seat. The flash from his gunfire lights the room at each pop, as Percy joins in shortly after, taking care of the man next to him who tried to reach for his gun.

You shoot the last two men with swift precision, making a clean shot through both their skulls back to back, and leaving Onyx as the last man at the table.

"Ahhh!!"

There's an intense scream that comes from the kitchen to your left.

Instinctively, you turn both your body and rifle to the sound, prepared to shoot down this unknown assailant. However, you freeze at the sight of the culprit, your hands locking in place. You see a woman.

Her brown hair is long and curly, her makeup as put together as what she wore. She stands in the kitchen, staring at all the dead bodies, with her hands clasped tightly over her mouth in fear, the tears already streaming down her face.

Suddenly, you come face to face with your own humanity, having switched that part off the moment you stepped through the door. Only you hadn't noticed until now.

The woman screams again, and this time it attracts the attention of the others on your team. Jeremy's in particular.

Shadow 2-0 whips his rifle towards the woman's direction, and without much thought at all, pulls the trigger.

POP!

You watch the bullet slice over the woman's shoulder, just barely missing the major part of her arm, as her blood splatters against the white refrigerator behind her like a paintball pellet.

The woman cries out, grabbing at her arm hysterically. She begins to cower over in fear, suddenly attempting to grab at something near her knees, just below where you couldn't see over the kitchen counter.

You hear tiny footsteps begin to bolt, and to your absolute horror, you see the small shadow of someone bolt from around the counter.

A child.

The kid weaves through you and your team, making a beeline for the hallway, as the woman screams in Russian for him to come back. This sends Onyx in a tizzy.

With no regard for his own safety, the man stands from his seat and attempts to chase after the child, only to be stopped by a bullet to the calf from Jeremy.

Onyx crashes to the floor, only barely catching himself from face-planting onto the ground. Percy takes this opportunity to apprehend Onyx. He drops his knee down onto the man's back until it digs in his spine, swinging his fists down at him a few times before grabbing hold of both his arms.

Amidst the chaos, Jeremy turns his attention back to the belligerent woman, who was seconds away from going completely off the deep end.

"Hey!" Jeremy raises his rifle, threatening to swing it down on her, as though that would help things. "Quit your screamin'!"

She ignores him, crying more, and using her good arm to shield herself from him. It's very likely the poor woman didn't speak English.

The woman's sobbing pleas only seem to further erupt Onyx into a fit of rage. He squirms beneath Percy's knee, cursing and yelling in Russian, making a loud scene.

You step over to Jeremy, attempting to salvage what little Russian you did know to try and get the woman to calm herself. For her sake, she needed to; others in your company would not be as patient.

"Quiet," you tell her. "You need to be quiet."

The woman hears you, but struggles to manage her blubbering, just barely being able to keep from hyperventilating. You couldn't blame her either; Jeremy made this situation more difficult right from the jump. Not that you expected any less from him. Shadow 2-0 was as brutish and uncaring as mercenaries came, the kind of man who shouldn't be in this line of work, and yet thrived in it.

You quickly step back over to the entrance, peaking outside to make sure the commotion hadn't attracted any attention. The hallways remained as empty as you had left them, surprisingly enough. With the music inside still blaring like it was, most of this ordeal was probably drowned out and ignored by the neighbors. Hopefully.

You make sure to shut what remains of the front door behind you on your way back in.

"Shadow-1, we've apprehended the target," you call in. "Awaiting orders."

Radio silence.

You tap your foot impatiently, guessing at what it was that kept your commander from replying. Shepherd, most likely. He's been going out of his way to hound and micromanage you and your Company as of late, almost as though he did not trust you. Which was insulting, given what you knew of him.

After everything the Shadows have done already, trust felt more than owed.

"I told you to keep it down!" Jeremy yells at the woman.

"Screamin' at her's not gonna help any," you say.

Percy cuts in now. "She's probably cryin' for her fuckin' kid."

"Why don't you go get it then, Canary?" Jeremy turns his frustrations to you. "Since you're just standing there."

You would argue, though you couldn't find it in you to do that right now. Your mind felt a bit scattered suddenly.

"Copy that, Canary." Graves' voice brings you back into perspective. "Run into any trouble in there?"

You begin to take in more of the details around the apartment, catching the occasional child's toy on the ground, and family picture on the wall. Onyx's wife and child. The woman and that kid. It makes sense that he'd live with his family, though it's not what you anticipated on barging into when you came here. You hadn't put much thought into that at all, actually.

"Negative, Commander. No issues from us. But…" you're a bit hesitant to mention it to him, knowing what would come of this family if Graves knew. You eventually decide to speak however, some subliminal sense of duty pushing you to. "There are civilians in here, sir."

"Sounds nonessential," Graves says.

Nonessential. Just what you wanted to hear. You sigh in relief. However, it is short-lived.

"They look like they might be his wife and kid, sir," Jeremy radios in. A game changing piece of information in this event. One which quickly sank your heart at your Commander's sudden silence on the other end.

"They still breathin'?" he asks plainly. Quite a question to have on his mind, though it does not surprise you in the least.

"Yes, sir," you say. "Though, the wife's been wounded."

There's another long pause from Graves. You begin to think he may be relaying this back to Shepherd as you speak, seeing as the assignment was entirely dependent on what the General saw fit.

"Tie 'em up and meet us out back," said Graves. "Bring the whole family with ya while you're at it, and make it snappy. Shadow-1 out."

The comms shut off, and the silence which follows feels deafening.

Percy hoists Onyx up aggressively, as he quickly zip-ties the man's hands behind his back, placing a black sack over his head. The whole time, Shadow 3-1 made sure to keep the barrel of his rifle pressed to his back, reminding him not to try anything.

"I said on your fucking feet!"

You hear Jeremy yell at the woman again. He yanks at her wounded arm until she's standing, the poor lady crying out in pain from her injury. Not that he cared for her condition, just that he could quickly have her subdued and blindfolded.

"I'll go look for the kid," you decide.

You venture down the dark hallway, peering into each room you pass, trying to keep your mind at ease.

Any time you pause for even a short second, you feel your lungs shake in your chest. It was as though they were filling with some sort of fluid, drowning you from the inside out. It made it hard to swallow.

That kid is in here somewhere. Confused. Terrified. Your black silhouettes seared into their little eyes. To this child you search for, you were the boogeyman of the night. The shadowy figure come to haunt their dreams for the rest of their life. Death.

Suddenly it didn't feel as prestigious holding such a title.

You've widowed and orphaned your fair share of families; you're more than aware of that. In this line of work, you're so aware of that, in fact, that you no longer thought about it. The families involved were very much out of sight and out of mind. That's what made the job so doable, because it's easier to shoot bad men when that's all you see them for.

Coming face to face with that reality had you more shaken up than you'd wished. You thought you'd be more prepared for something like this to happen, it was bound to. Yet your hands won't stop shaking.

A few cynical lines of encouragement pop in to your head, as you try to rationalize things and put them into some kind of digestible perspective. It's all you really can do.

Bad people have families too, this is obvious. You have a job to do and a home to keep safe. Had the roles been flipped, you'd be shown the same treatment, if not worse. And you don't deserve to feel any type of way about this. You're the one holding the gun.

And it's not like you're doing this because any of you want to either.

So long as AQ is around and those missiles remain on the loose, your life is gone. You'd know no peace until this situation is resolved. Black Bag left you with no other option. If you want your life back, then this is what must be done.

That's what you keep telling yourself.

You reach the last room at the end of the hall, a child's bedroom. It's not the most lavishly decorated, but you could tell that whoever set it up put a lot of care into making it a suitable space for their kid.

You look around, checking the obvious hiding spots: the closet first, then behind the door. You then check underneath the bed. You admit, you jumped a little when you actually saw the kid hiding there.

The child is tiny, no older than maybe six or seven, with large eyes struck with fear from the sight of you. They don't scream however, too terrified to. Perhaps hoping you would not see them if they remained still.

With your mask on, you looked about as shadowy and hostile as the rest of your team. However, you keep your distance from the kid, looking back to see if the others could see you.

Not a soul stands in the doorway behind you.

It doesn't take you long to decide your next move.

You turn to the child, and simply bring your finger to your masked lips. "Shh."

You tell them to be quiet, praying they stay put, and wishing they had not been here to see this happen. It breaks your heart to see the child's eyes on you like this, and for you to be so helpless at remedying the pain you've caused.

"Shh," you tell them. "Stay."

The kid doesn't budge, though you get the sense they understand you.

You stand and slowly leave the room, shutting the door behind you. With any luck, the others wouldn't come to look themselves. You're sure you'll get chewed out for this, but you were prepared for it. It was needless to involve the man's family in this.

You re-emerge from the hallway, finding Percy and Jeremy standing by in the living room with the target and his wife. They're both apprehended, bags over their heads and arms tied tightly behind their backs. It appears they'd been yelled at enough times to remain quiet, for now. Though the woman still sobs quietly.

"You find the kid?" Jeremy asks abruptly.

Quickly, you run with the best argument you can come up with at the spur of the moment.

"They're hiding around here somewhere," you say. "But we've gotta move. Just make do with what we got."

"Stay here and I'll go look for the little fucker," Jeremy volunteers. "Since you can't do it."

"That's not necessary," you say.

"It ain't like this place is big," he retorts.

"We move out," you put more bass into your voice, standing up tall. What you were not about to do was debate with Shadow 2-0 on whether or not he can personally acknowledge you as his superior. You didn't need his acknowledgement, you are his superior. "That's an order."

Jeremy stands there for a moment, neither speaking nor moving. Almost attempting to intimidate you, seeing if you'd break composure before he did.

You matched his energy however, neither speaking nor moving yourself. Waiting to see if he'd openly disobey a direct order from you.

"We ain't got all night," you cut in. "Now let's move."

Jeremy grabs hold of the collar of the woman's shirt and starts bringing her around to the entrance. "Yup-yup."

Percy follows Jeremy out of the room, bringing Onyx with him, and leaving you in the apartment alone. Your eyes linger down the end of the hall, where that child's door remains shut.

You wondered how long they would wait before they open that door again.

…

You drive a ways out of Kavala, until your surroundings become a deep abyss, the only other vehicles on the road being miles away from where you are. When you've reached a small patch of woods, Graves has the van veer off road. You drive until the woods submerge you, parking off to the right someplace more open.

This far away, you and your company were granted with complete solitude, where no one would be able to hear the impending screaming and crying to come.

You all exit the vehicle in near unison, Jeremy pulling Onyx out from the back of the van. He struggles to stand properly, his leg having been bleeding from the bullet wound on his calf since you left the apartments.

Jeremy merely drags Onyx, bringing the man out in front of the van's headlights. He then throws him against a tree, watching his back slam into the hardwood sharply.

He pulls the sack from Onyx's head and his eyes squint from the bright lights. With his vision still adjusting, Graves and his company appeared as shadows in the black of night.

Graves makes his way over to the arms dealer, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He observes as the man works himself up again, standing to his feet.

"What is this?" Onyx snarls. "You're American, right? Military? You can't do this to me!"

"Who said anything about us being military?" Graves says.

"If you're not military, then who?" Onyx demanded.

"How 'bout I ask the questions from here," Graves gets close to the man, clapping his hands together. "Alright?"

Onyx spits at the commander. "Fuck you, you dog!"

You slowly brace yourself for the inevitable now, remaining some distance from the scene, away from the headlights, within the dark. Graves always liked to give off this cavalier attitude to start things off, but you knew it only hid a man who held incredibly little patience for bullshit.

Graves wipes the spit from himself and shakes his head, smacking his lips together disappointedly. He then proceeds to bring his fist down fast, his gloved knuckles colliding hard against the man's nose.

The man's head whips to the side violently. The sheer force causes him to lose his footing, as he crashes to the ground, only to then be brought back up to his feet by Shadow 2-0.

"Now," Graves says. "I've got a few questions, and you've got two options. You tell me what I want to hear, or I put the fear of God in you and then you tell me what I want to hear."

Onyx doesn't reply, his nose beginning to drip with blood. Graves takes his silence as an invitation to continue speaking.

"You did business with Ghorbrani, once upon a time," Graves says. "As one of his dealers. One of many, that is. Only he's kicked the bucket, and you're still trading with someone who's got ties with Ghorbrani's old friends. Someone I'm interested in gettin' to know."

Onyx really takes in Graves' question, and chuckles. "I see now," he says. "You're not military but you're with America. You contractors then? Mercenaries?"

"All you need to know is that I want the name of the man you're trading with. The asshole threatening my country. I've got good intel saying you know 'em. So you're gonna tell me."

"You'll see him soon enough," Onyx taunts. "As will your shit stain of a country, dog."

Graves' eyes travel down to the bullet hole in Onyx's calf, which has been steadily bleeding this entire time. The commander looks around at the rest of your team. "Who shot him?"

"I did, sir," Percy answers for himself.

Graves kneels down by it, Jeremy keeping his gun trained on Onyx so that he doesn't attempt to kick and fight his way out of this. The arms dealer helplessly looks down at the commander, fearful of what may come next. You share the sentiment.

"Good on you." Graves takes the tip of his index finger and sticks it into Onyx's bullet wound. The man jolts and squirms and yelps in pain, but Jeremy grabs hold of his arm, keeping him standing in his tight grip.

Onyx's cries echo throughout the woods. It makes you nauseous listening to it.

"Give me a name," Graves tells him.

Onyx can barely talk through the searing pain shooting up his leg "…I'm a dead man either way."

"That might be true," says Graves. "But I'd say you've still got about an hour left in you. Tell me what I want to hear. Who's supplying AQ?"

Onyx doesn't speak.

Graves gives him maybe five seconds before he's pushed his finger uncomfortably far into his wound again. A pained scream gurgles from Onyx's throat, filling the entire area with his mangled voice.

The Commander continues this vicious cycle of asking Onyx the same few questions, and causing him some variation of pain when he wouldn't answer.

Who have you been working with in AQ? Another finger in the wound. Who's trying to replace Ghorbrani? A small series of fists, boots, and knees rumble against Onyx's head and chest. A nose breaks, some ribs crack. His blood begins to stain the ground around him. Give me a name.

In the midst of this brutality, Onyx does let slip a few short answers, but nothing that wasn't obvious or too useful. Someone was trying to replace Ghorbrani, some new, wannabe despot. Whoever they are, that's who's been working with Russia and arming AQ. If they can get a name, that would already be enough for them to take back to Shepherd and Laswell.

Barely a half hour passes before Onyx looks like a pale comparison of himself. His face is littered with various lumps and discolored bruises, his eyes so swollen it was a wonder he could still see, let alone be conscious. If Graves keeps things up like this, there wouldn't be much of him left to work with.

Graves seemed to comment a lot about the way you work as of late, yet you've almost forgotten what it was like to watch him at work, in his prime element. The real him; and how second nature his cruelty could appear.

It comes as a cold reminder.

Graves eventually grew bored of picking at the man's open wounds or beating him, opting for Onyx's fingers instead. He starts with the pinky first, then the ring finger, and then his middle, taking each one and bending it back with a resounding snap. A sharp noise in these quiet woods, one which made you cringe at each break.

You could not understand how unphased and far removed Graves could be with another human. Yet, you know what must run through his mind right now -- the same thoughts you've been trying to remind yourself of all night. You have no choice. Only you see Graves now, and you know those words you've been trying to convince yourself of believing were true in his mind. He had no doubt about it.

To Graves, this is just what needed to be done. To Graves, this man deserved this. And to Graves, it was just another loose end. When that's all he sees you as, it no longer mattered what else you once were. That is simply what you will always be to him.

SNAP!

Another finger gets folded and crunched, sending Onyx into a screaming, rocking fit.

"We've still got plenty o' fingers to go here, bud'," Graves says. He leans in close to Onyx, until his face is only about an inch or so from him, masked and black goggles reflecting back to the man his tattered state. "Give. Me. A. Name."

Onyx's eyes dip, falling to the patch on Graves' arm. He has a realization to himself suddenly. "…That insignia… I recognize it from somewhere… the Rook piece, with the Ace of Spades… I've seen it before…"

"Is that right?" Graves backs away, allowing for him to keep speaking.

"…Back in Al Mazrah."

You see Graves freeze.

"…Konni never put a face to the bodies, but it was your company right? A month or so ago… Yeah, the Shadow Company… That's what those patches said on those corpses…"

The woods around you grow bone chillingly cold suddenly, as the silence screams at you. Onyx picks up on the sudden change in Grave's posture, taking this moment to breathe.

The others stand around silently, unsure of what it was Onyx was referencing, and exchanging small glances. You look to your Commander, who only looks back at you. You can’t see his eyes, but you know exactly what he's thinking.

Black Bag.

This changes everything.

Graves takes a step away from the man, though he doesn't turn his view from him. He reaches up and turns his comms on. "Gold Eagle Actual," he says. "You pick all that up?"

"I did…" Shepherd replies. "Find out what else he knows, get that name from him, and bury him some place deep."

"Copy that, Actual."

Onyx laughs more to himself. "Ah, so that was you from that night… I should thank you. AQ wouldn't be what it is now without your help."

"Shadow 2-0," Graves looks back towards the van. "Go 'head and bring the missus out for me, will ya?"

You watch Onyx's expression waver and drop, beginning to regret the last few things he had said now.

Jeremy drags the woman out to where everyone is standing, throwing her to the ground in front of Graves. She falls chest first, her hands still tied to her back and a sack no longer over her head. She shivers and cries there, feebly waiting.

Onyx begins to speak Russian to his wife, his voice broken and frantic; though you're not fluent in the language, you pick up a few small phrases. Attempts to comfort her.

The woman's voice sobs at Onyx, her words broken by her tears. She isn't allowed to finish before Graves' has grabbed a handful of her brown hair. He grabs her hair tightly and hoists her up to her feet, as she yelps in pain.

This makes Onyx jump up from his spot, mustering that last bit of strength he had in him. It's only cut down by Percy, who sends his foot into the back of Onyx's injured leg. The man falls back down to his knees.

"Leave her out of this!" Onyx demands.

"Or what?" Graves taunts. "I seem to recall my men not being given the same mercy back in Al Mazrah. Ain't that right? You know about it after all."

He pulls the woman closer, watching the way her mascara stains her cheeks, her knees buckling beneath her. She'd tumble over had he not had such a tight grip in her hair. She grits her teeth to mask the pain.

"Meeting you is about to be the worst decision she's made in her entire life," Graves states. "You think on that the next time you call me dog, you fucking scum. You brought this on yourself. Now give me a fucking name!"

Onyx shares a look with his wife, his expression sinking. You can see in him somewhere, he wants to speak up, if not just for the sake of his wife. But the powers above, whoever it was he worked with, the fear of their retribution was enough to keep him silent, even now.

Graves sighs, and brings the woman over so he could whisper in her ear. "Get on your knees for me, honey."

He uses his boot to press into the back of her leg, bringing her down to her knees as he nonchalantly continues to grip a handful of her hair like a loose rope. His hold on her keeps the woman's head up and her eyes forward. He didn't want her to miss that frightened look on her husband's face.

"There you go," Graves coos. "Good girl."

And then, he pulled out his pistol and placed the barrel right at the back of the woman's skull. She feels the harsh coolness of the barrel, and begins to cry and pray silently in front of her husband.

Graves begins to count down. "Ten. Nine."

Onyx starts to argue with Graves as he counts down, unable to move or do anything without Percy seating him right back in his spot.

"Eight. Seven. Six."

The woman's sobbing grows louder the lower the countdown gets. At this point, you've memorized all the pitches her frantic voice could create, as for that twisted look on her face.

"FIVE. FOUR."

Onyx has turned to pleading with Graves now, but you knew that wouldn't work. There would be no begging with your Commander. He's told Onyx already what it is he wants, his wife is expendable.

"THREE. TWO-"

"Ghorbrani's second in command!" Onyx shouts out. "One of his former colleagues. They lead the charge."

"Their name."

"Hassan Zyani…"

Graves lowers the gun from the woman's head and immediately radios into Shepherd. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" he quipped. "Gold Eagle Actual, we've got a name. Ghorbrani's second in command, a Hassan Zyani. How copy?"

"Copy, Graves. Good hit,” Shepherd praises him. You watch Graves’ shoulders slack with relief, as though he’d been waiting to hear Shepherd say that to him. Which he most definitely had been.

“I'll have Laswell look into this Hassan and see what she can find out about him,” the General continues. “He'll join the list of other names we've collected, but we'll keep a sharp eye on him ourselves. Sounds like he might be our next stop on the hunt."

"And hopefully the last," Graves says.

"Finish up there, we'll go over the next move when you get back. Nice work. Gold Eagle out."

"Rog'," Graves says. "It was a pleasure, as always, Gold Eagle. Shadow-1 out."

Graves shuts his comms off, and turns back to Onyx, who continues to kneel on the ground. "I told you what you wanted," Onyx says. "So where does-"

The commander cuts Onyx off with a bullet to the back of his wife's skull, as her body drops to the ground. Dead. You hear Onyx scream unlike anything he's let out the entire night.

Graves responds to this by putting a bullet in Onyx shortly after, shooting two more into his lifeless body as it slumped over, just for good measure.

And just like that, your mission was done.

"Whoo," Graves sighs. "Guy was really startin' to get on my fuckin' nerves."

"Him and his dumbass wife," Jeremy chimes in.

They all laugh, only you can't really bring yourself to join in. You're too focused on the two dead bodies lying a few feet from you, their lifeless forms lit by the headlights.

"Well, let's wrap this up here and get goin'," Graves says. "Canary, why don't you help Percy with this."

The sound of your callsign reminds you that you stood amongst these men at this moment. You stood there the entire time.

"Yes, sir."

You make your way over to the bodies, Percy grabbing hold of Onyx as you go for his wife. You take hold of her limp arms, trying not to look at her face too much. Though your eyes unintentionally drop to them from time to time.

Each time they did, you thought about her kid at home. Were they still hiding under that bed, you thought to yourself. Waiting and wondering. Wondering and waiting.

"Do you know what he was talking about?" Percy asks you suddenly. "About Al Mazrah? Was that a job or somethin'?"

You and Percy find a small lake, where you throw the bodies into it. If anyone finds them, it wouldn't matter at that point what was done about it. They would just be another death in the underbelly of some hidden crime ring drama, and your company but another whisper in the night. One more loose end taken care of.

"Ask Graves," you say.

"Yeah, 'cause I'll get an answer from him about it," Percy says sarcastically, before walking off. You watch the bodies submerge in the water, before they vanish deep into the black, liquid abyss below. Gone forever.

You thought of the kid once more. Scared under their bed. Thankful, despite other painful things stirring in you.

It would have been worse, had it not been you here. Both a blessing and a curse.

...Chapter Fourteen Here!

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