#f/o story | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yaffles-world · 2 years

Text

Basically, I'm just writing stories about me and my F/O, the lovely Spike Spiegel. So it's written from a personal POV but you're welcome to read however you want to. I got distracted from an ask game again hehe.

Thusday

"Huh?" I mumbled, opening my eyes slowly. Spike was propped up on his elbow, staring, his eyes bright and wide, his smile beaming.

"Do you know what day it is?" Spike said, smiling even wider.

"Uhhhh," my eyebrows furrow, and he laughs, "Thursday?"

"Not just any Thursday!" he exclaims. Oh no...Anniversary? Birthday??? Oh my god, did I forget his birthday?!? I exhale slightly as he continues to stare. "We both have the day off!" I laugh despite myself.

"We have every Saturday and Sunday off, sweetie, it's called a weekend," I explain, rubbing his shoulder gently.

"No, no, no," he shakes his head forcefully. "Weekends are for everyone. Today is just for us. Get up."

He pulls me up out of bed and pushes me into the bathroom, with a handful of clothes. "I will see you soon!" He plants a kiss on my cheek and squeezes my shoulder tightly.

I looked at the bundle of clothes I was holding. Did he just pick out my outfit? What on earth was going on?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After showering and getting changed into a surprisingly decent outfit, the morning just kept getting weirder. Pancakes were served, alongside freshly squeezed orange juice.

"So… it's not Valentine's day?" I asked, "Not your birthday? Not Christmas? Not Easter?" Everytime, Spike shook his head gently.

"I just thought I'd surprise you with a fun day out," Spike said, raising his eyebrow slightly. "Now come on, in the car." Spike pushed me out the door, whilst doing the dance of the person who has 2 indoor cats who want to be outdoors, and quickly grabbing my favorite soft toy, a fluffy penguin named Flappy. It was quite impressive. And adorable - he put all his hand eye coordination and quick reflexes from his years as a bounty hunter into successfully dancing out the door.

We got into the car, he passed me my penguin, and we drove, singing along to our music.

About an hour passed. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

I raised an eyebrow and turned to him. "That's suspicious."

He raised an eyebrow, eyes briefly darting to me before returning to the road. "Be patient," he said, "I'm not going to ruin the surprise!"

We pulled into a lovely forest area - there were lots of tall trees that covered the ground and reached to the sky, lots of wild flowers and shrubbery sprawled amongst the long grass. He was right, it was deserted. I started forward, walking along the track that had been trodden into existence.

"Hey, hold on!" Spike said, and I turned back to him as he jogged up to me and grabbed my hand. I blushed and he smiled, slyly. "Much better," he said and led the way forward. The path wound through the forest; there were fallen trees and lots of birds. We kept moving into the forest, along the small, winding path.

"Have you been here before?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah," Spike said, briefly looking back at me before continuing to lead, "As a kid. And then some as an adult, too."

"Oh my goodness!" I squeezed his hand, "Little baby Spike!" I saw his ears tinge red as he focused on the path in front of him.

"I come here when I need a break... I came here when you stopped talking to me, a long time ago now, just before we got together. That was the last time I was here." He stopped, and then started walking off the path, holding back branches as we walked forward. "I thought it was about time I showed it to you."

The trees thickened briefly and Spike held my hand tighter as we moved through. Just as the trees were becoming impassable, it cleared out into a very small area, with a big oak tree, long grass and wildflowers covering the ground.

He set down the picnic blanket and put down the basket, the drinks, and of course, Flappy. He held out his arms but before he could say "Tada," I leapt at him and we both tumbled into the grass, a mess of cuddles and kisses. I ran my fingers through his hair, and found some loose petals from the flowers underneath us. I held them in my hand out to Spike. "I have an idea."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows. "What's your idea?"

I rolled off him and gathered two big handfuls of wildflowers. "Flower crowns!"

"Huh? Do you even know how to make those?" Spike looked at me, perplexed and giggling slightly.

"No... but it can't be that hard!"

It was hard. I ended up being able to do it okay, a mix of forming an actual crown and just sticking flowers in his hair. Spike really struggled. He held the small pile of flowers in his hands, and looked at me with puppy dog eyes. "It's okay, I'll love you even if you can't make a flower crown," I said, rubbing his shoulder.

"Hold on, I have another idea." He sat down and crossed his legs before gesturing for me to sit in front of him, which I did.

"What are you doing…?"

"You'll see," he gently started grabbing strands of my hair and moving his fingers. Eventually, long after I had stopped paying attention, he said, "There we go!"

I grabbed at my hair. "What on earth? Since when could you braid hair?" He had plaited in the wild flowers. I turned to face him, my hands on his crossed legs, as he looked down blushing.

"I have a dark and mysterious past," he said, trying but failing to regain composure. He hesitated, eyes transfixed to the ground. "Don't tell anyone."

I gave him a quick kiss. "Don't worry, bad boy, your secret's safe with me."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We had a lovely lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches, cupcakes, and homemade lemonade. We climbed the lower limbs of the oak tree, wandered around the forest, laughed and told stories. We lay, swaddled in a blanket and each other, watching the sky go from bright blue to pink-orange to purple to black. Spike fell asleep, flower crown still in his hair, squeezing himself against me, his eyes gently closed.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and I had to gently nudge him awake.

"Come on, big guy, we gotta go, and I can't carry you."

"Why not?" he mumbled, nuzzling his face into my neck.

"Because you're 6 foot 1, that's why not," I nudged him again and laughed. I packed up the picnic blanket and put his arm over my shoulder. Luckily it was a short walk. "It's alright, I'll drive," I said, putting our stuff in the back and putting Spike gently in the front seat, buckling him in. I passed him Flappy, and we started on our drive home.

A few minutes later, I heard a faint whistling noise, and turned to him. He was fast asleep, head against the window, curled over Flappy, with his red-pink puffer jacket on and the blanket on him too. With flowers still in his hair.

#spike spiegel my baby #my writing #writing #f/o imagine #romantic f/o #f/o story

9 notes · View notes

simons-temple-of-eros · 2 years

Text

i feel like my f/o is out there somewhere

figured i’d share this little thing for any other self shippers that are hoping that their f/o might be real somehow

tw: self harm and mild eating disorder

ford doesn’t appear in my dreams too often but when he does i swear the timing is perfect.

this week has been rough. i ended up having a hard time eating a little bit and ended up self harming last night. and on that same night owlet visits me in my dream. we cuddle and kiss and he even surprises me with a cake he baked for me. and maybe it’s just a coincidence but it feels like something more purposeful. like he sensed my pain and came to me in my dreams specifically to try and comfort me and even gave me something nice to eat.

idk, it’s just a little thing that makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s something deeper to my love for this man than just a cartoon crush.

#self shipping #f/o positivity #self shipping positivity #f/o story #tw self harm #tw mild eating disorder

2 notes · View notes

biohazard-inevitable · 2 years

Text

Genshin Selfship Minific

Me x Arataki itto.

“I… I won’t be able to see you for a while Itto.” He spoke softly, looking up at the oni’s adorably confused face with a pained expression.

“What?? Whats wrong??? Did.. did I do something???” Itto whimpered, sitting down on the log overlooking Mondstat, his hand ghosting over Zayne’s as he saw tears pricking in those big blue eyes of his. “I’m sorry if I did something that you’re mad at me for, I promise I’ll do everything to fix it!”

“I’m not mad at you itto.” Zayne sniffled, intertwining his fingers with that of the oni as he leaned against him, pressing his lips softly to the back of itto’s hand. “And I sure as hell am not breaking up with you.”

“Then… what is it?”

There was a moment of silence as the two sat, staring at the grand silhouette of Mondstat’s city walls as the deep vermillion sunset cast its beams of light across the sparkling waters of the lake surrounding.

“The… portal I come from every time I visit… it’s been having issues. It’s not able to reliably transport me here anymore.” Zayne explained slowly, watching the realization dawn on Itto.

“But… what about sumeru? We were supposed to go on that adventure together! See the deserts, play in the jungle- there was even that mushroom forest you saw in the brochure that you wnated to go to to get pics for Emile!” Itto exclaimed, his hand tightening around Zayne’s as his skin was tinted in the waning gold of the sun, tears glistening just as brightly as the water in the lake glimmered.

“And we will! Look, I’m not saying we won’t still do that Itto-“ Zayne stammered. “But the portal won’t hold when I go back- at least not until I can get a new access point. I love you, so much Itto- like you wouldn’t believe. And we will definitely still go to sumeru but- I just might be gone for a while, and I don’t know when I’ll be back, or if I’ll be back at all, but archons damnit I’ll try.”

“Promise me?” Itto said after a quiet moment, his voice weak and crackling with emotion. “Promise you’ll be back- for sure?”

“Of course itto-“ zayne spoke with a soft smile. “Of course. And, I will always have you as my one and oni.”

The two chuckled a moment, enjoying the sunset before a tear in reality appeared before them. It dhimmered with the flecks of countless stars leading to other worlds, all of which floated in a dark miasma of nebulas and color as it stretched into infinity.

“Well, thats my cue.” Zayne spoke he stood from his seat, stopping as he felt the tug of Itto’s hand against his own.

He turned back, glancing over his shoulder with a saddened smile as he saw the rivers of tears stretching down Itto’s painted face, his makeup smudging and flowing with it as he cried.

“Don’t go…” he whined, desperate to pull Zayne back into a deep, loving hug.

“Itto, I promise I’ll be back- it’s just like any other time but… longer. Okay?” Zayne spoke shakily, trying not to cry himself. “See you later alligator?”

“After a while… crocodile.” Itto finally muttered, releasing the hand of his beloved right as the wormhole swallowed him before disappearing into nothingness once again.

#genshin impact #arataki itto #f/o post #f/o story #self insert story #selfship #selfship post #angst #i wrote this after I got on genshin recently and my game crashed #so the knowledge i wont be able to see sumeru for a while #i have plans to get a ps4 #i have the tv for it #i just need the money #and money needs a job #and idk when that will be #so i had to say goodbye to itto as i wouldnt be logging on for a while #hhhhhhh i feel so bad #im gonna miss him so much

6 notes · View notes

nerdwhoauthorinserts · 25 days

Text

I wasn't born in Zaun...

Possible trigger warnings?: N/A

Genre: Drama!

Context/Synopsis: Two years after Viktor's surprise love interest; Blake, disappears out of the blue, it soon becomes apparent why. ...And it's not for the reason Viktor thinks it is.

Characters featured: -Blake (Yours truly) -Viktor (Resident 'glorious evolution' science man.)

"It's nice to see you, too." Viktor said, the level of sass in his tone palpable.

Blake sighed, looking over the small blue ball of energy in his hand. He didn't reply immediately, but after Viktor stepped toward him, Blake felt compelled to say something. "It's been a while, huh?" His voice seemed off; Viktor could tell something was wrong but couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"Yes, it has; Two years, in fact." Blake could practically taste the slight bitterness in Viktor's tone. Blake could still remember what it felt like - that last kiss they shared right before he left - he could see how it must've looked. "So, you're here for the hextech, then?"

Blake couldn't lie, but if he said yes, he could only imagine what Viktor would think. Blake inhaled deeply through his nose, then replied, "I wasn't using you, Viktor."

There was a moment of quiet before Viktor came closer. "Then what were you doing?"

"What I had to." Blake replied, not turning around to face Viktor. He couldn't, after all. He knew that wouldn't be enough of an explanation. "I'm-… I can't tell you why."

"Why not?" Viktor insisted, coming up close and grasping Blake's shoulder. Before Viktor could even try to spin him around, Blake pulled away and turned, not letting Viktor see his face.

Calling Viktor 'smart' is an understatement, so it doesn't take more than a moment for him to realize Blake is hiding his face from him. "…Blake." The tone said as much, with Viktor silently demanding Blake look at him.

"…You don't want to know." Blake insisted, but Viktor was determined.

"Blake. Show me."

There was a long pause, and after a heavy sigh, Blake had to make a choice. Ultimately, he decided Viktor deserved to know. With much hesitation, Blake took a shaking breath and turned around, the sight of which rendered Viktor speechless.

Blake's pale face shredded on the right side, but instead of revealing meat and flesh, the gleam of black metal and the purple glow of Shimmer shone through. Blake let out another breath, trying to remain stoic and calm but unable to keep his chest from feeling the tightness of anxiety.

"…Apparently, you were right. I wasn't 'born' in Zaun at all."

#Blaktor #literaturelove #nerdwhoauthorinserts #romantic f/o #selfship fanfic #selfship writing #arcane oc #lgbt selfshipper #male selfshipper #f/o writing #f/o story #f/o fic

0 notes

kay-selfships · 1 year

Text

me when my f/o doesn’t show up in their source for like five seconds:

#best thing about genshin is i can play as them whenever i want <333 #especially when they don’t show up in the main story *cough* albedo #self ship #self ship community #self shipping #selfship #f/o community #f/o #self insert #selfshipping #romantic f/o #fictional other #self insert community #self insert x canon #romantic fictional other #f/o imagines #selfshipping community #selfship meme #self shipping meme

3K notes · View notes

selfshipping-haven · 11 days

Text

Imagine you're eating something that's a LOT spicier than you expected. Your reaction is strong enough to make your f/o chuckle. You make them try it, and then THEY start reacting strongly. It ends with the both of you just laughing at each other about the whole thing.

#we need more silly imagines so here you go #based on a true story #self ship #self shipping #selfship #selfshipping #f/o #imagine your f/o #f/o imagines

87 notes · View notes

lieutenantselnia · 8 months

Text

Reminder that in your personal version of canon, you are your f/o's only true love <3

#I personally enjoy seeing other people's self inserts or ocs being shipped with my f/os as well tho!#it's so sweet to see them getting love in all sorts of different AUs <3 #but sometimes it's just nice to imagine that in my version of the story I'm the only one for them >:3 #self ship positivity #reminders #self ship #self shipping #self ship community #fictional other #f/o x s/i #self insert x canon #selniasoriginal

268 notes · View notes

fujii-draws · 21 days

Text

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

#okay starting from the beginning of where ppl usually dislike him. apple woods chapter.#he doesn’t give hero/partner the CHANCE to explain themselves despite them being relatively good recruits up until that point.#and that legit might be my only gripe with that chapter bc!!! stories need conflict! I LIKE the conflict in apple woods!!!#hero and partner being punished so something they didn’t do!#the misunderstanding! how team skull (Skuntank) actually outplays the main duo with a clever yet rotten trick. I LOVE that it segways into-#one of the more sweeter scenes of guild members looking out for eachother. I LIKE APPLE WOODS CONFLICT.#but chatot just. not giving them a chance. is so dumb.#I’d personally fix this by having a lil montage of hero/partner fucking up on jobs. A LOT. and chatot giving them a pass every time.#and let the perfect apple incident BE the one where he puts his foot down and doesn’t listen to them. bc he’d given them loads of chances.#and doesn’t want to hear any excuse.#but yeah. I legit dont mind him during that chapter except for that really stupid and frustrating moment.#NOW. CHAPTER 17.#UGGGGHHH WHERE DO I BEGIN #Him not believing hero and Partner about Grovyle and the future being in ruin? FINE. ACTUALLY GOOD. BC CHATOT WOULD BE SKEPTIC.#IT FITS HIS CHARACTER!!#BUT WHAT DOES SUCK. IS HIM GOING ‘Dusknoir isn’t the bad guy. he didn’t do anything wrong’#WHEN HE LITERALLY KIDNAPPED HERO AND PARTNER RIGHT I N F R O N T OF HIM.#(NO LITERALLY. HIS CHARACTER IS IN THE FRONT ROW WHEN IT HAPPENED.)#and him. having the GALL to tell hero and partner they must’ve been ‘seeing things’ and downplaying the HELL they went through.#despite them being missing for hours/days. his own guild recruits. and his angry sprite showing up.#like. I think that’s when I genuinely despised him.#that and him going ‘OH I BELIEVED YOU THE WHOLE TIME HEEHOO :)’ shit was so fucking annoying.#just playing it off as a joke the second the guild started to believe hero and partner.#IMAGINE IF HE W A S ACTUALLY TESTING THE GUILD’S TRUST. SHOWCASING HIM AS THE MORE RESPONSIBLE AND RESPECTFUL RIGHT HAND OF THE GUILD.#and yes. Brine cave he saves hero and partner. but at that point I just didn’t care anymore.#he fucked those two over so much. that I didn’t care what ‘valiant’ sacrifice he had.#and he grills Team Skull for what they did OFF SCREEN. they couldn’t even give us THAT.#<<< THAT or him outright saying sorry would’ve been nice. IKIK his ‘actions’ or whatever but.#eughh again this is all imo. I’m not trying to make people hate him or change their mind.#I’ll get into positives in the second post cause I’m running out of tags

79 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 9 months

Text

Laces for a Lady - 18th century poly shifter romance (Part one, sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Well folks, here it is. You said you were interested, so I hope it meets expectations! Here's part one for you, of a multi part story. If you want to kno wmore about it, you can find some more info here, as well as a little 'mood board'.

Content: sfw, the daughter of a country gentleman from Sussex relocates to a sleepy fishing village in Cornwall in order to become the paid companion of a young widow, and meets some of the locals on her arrival. Wordcount: 3972

Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark - Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Laces for a lady; letters for a spy, Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! ~ from ‘A Smugglers’ Song’, Rudyard Kipling (1906)

In the cool, lavender light of a late spring dawn, a gaff-rigged cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide, and quietly dropped anchor. As if the soft splash had awoken him, a cockerel spluttered to life in a farmyard somewhere inland, but most of the villagers were already up and awake and steering their small, secret fleet of boats out from the golden crescent of sand beneath the cliffs to meet the waiting ship fresh from Roscoff.

Beneath the waves, where churning kelp moored itself in unyielding handfuls to the ancient granite of the sea floor, a long, serpentine shadow snaked between the stalks, and the currents of the coastline subtly shifted. Any revenue men trying to sail along the coast from Fowey to catch the smugglers would have found the wind and tide set dead against them, and in the subtle wake that wafted from the mottled, eel-like tail as it passed unseen, the waters of the secluded inlet calmed beneath the keels of the scurrying fishing boats. The drag of the oars through the waves lessened, and muscles already tired from heaving and hefting goods up the cliff moved a fraction easier for the unexpected boon.

Between them over the next hour, the gathered men and women shifted their haul of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. The small kegs of rich, French cognac would fetch a pretty price all across Cornwall, and along with the liquor came smaller luxuries like lace and silk, and bundles of tobacco and spiced tea, all meticulously wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the water out.

And when the speedy, slender ship was riding noticeably higher in the water, the locals simply melted away into the countryside like so many mice from a late summer granary before the excise men even knew the ship from Guernsey had visited the cove at all.

Fifteen miles away, as the sun breached the horizon and cast its first rays of warmth along bellies of fleecy clouds and the flanks of blossoming hedgerows below, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westwards along potholed roads, and a young woman stared out of the grimy window as the horses carried her into a new chapter of her life.

After leapfrogging some two hundred miles or so along the staging stations that dotted the South Coast, with nothing but a small trunk of her belongings and a thrice-read, dog-eared novel for company, Eleanor Bywater was more than ready to see the back of that infernal stagecoach. Had it not been for the small but inconveniently bulky travelling case sitting at her feet, she might have hired a horse and ridden from the last staging inn at Plymouth to reach the secluded fishing village of Polgarrack, but given that the trunk held all her worldly belongings, she had not been quite desperate enough to escape the discomfort of hard seats and poor suspension to abandon it.

Bouncing along in the nearly-empty stagecoach, she studiously tried to ignore the older woman sitting opposite her. She’d stared intently at Nel since they'd left Plymouth behind that morning, and her scrutiny had begun to make that last twenty mile stretch feel much, much longer.

Finally, after jouncing over a pothole deep enough to start prospecting for copper ore at the bottom, Nel gasped and then raised her eyes to meet the woman’s openly curious stare. She found sympathy for her own discomfort, and a small degree of kindly amusement too.

“Where are you headed, miss?” the stranger asked after Nel raised the hint of an eyebrow at her as the silence stretched.

“Polgarrack.”

At that, the woman’s grey eyes narrowed in confusion. “Now what takes a young miss like you to an old fishing village like Polgarrack?”

She looked to be in her fifties, though a life beside the harsh sea had weathered her features somewhat, and her wiry grey hair was covered by a simple linen cap. Her dress was dark and plain, though there was a hint of tired lace around the neck and cuffs. Her hands had the tough, reddened look of someone who scrubbed pots and salted fish, while Nel’s own hands were smooth and soft, if a little ink stained from sending a letter to her friend before leaving the inn that morning.

Nel laughed quietly and shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” she said. “I am to be employed as a companion to the widowed Lady Penrose at Heath Top House. I am expected there this afternoon.”

Given that only ladies of relatively high social standing themselves tended to become a ‘lady’s companion’, the older woman made a hasty re-evaluation of her fellow traveller, and her already ruddy cheeks flushed a darker shade as she cleared her throat and looked away.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” she said. “We don’t get many new faces in Polgarrack, is all. I didn’t mean to pry or cause offence with my questions.”

“No harm in a little curiosity,” Nel said, trying to put the stranger at ease to avoid any further awkwardness between them on the remainder of their journey. “I take it you’re from Polgarrack yourself then?”

“Oh, born and raised, miss,” she chortled. She eyed the forest green redingote Nel wore, with its rather masculine high collar, wide lapels and small, gold pocket watch dangling on a chain, and the contrasting sage green skirts beneath, and no doubt made one or two judgements of her own about the young lady. “And yourself? You don’t sound as though you’re from these parts at all, if I may be so bold.”

Nel smiled. “I’ve come from Sussex.”

The woman’s watery, grey-blue eyes widened almost comically and she gasped. “’at's a bloody long way, miss! And all on your own?” She shook her head but remembered herself and mumbled, “Begging your pardon.”

“You’re right,” Nel sighed, letting her gaze slide to the window to watch the countryside roll past in a blur of salt-bleached grass and vibrant yellow gorse flowers. “It is a bloody long way.” And her spine and backside felt every lump and bump and lurch of the stagecoaches from Sussex to Cornwall. With a warmer smile, she turned back to the woman. “My name is Eleanor, but most people call me Nel.”

“Agatha,” she replied with a grandmotherly smile of her own for the young woman. “But everyone calls me Aggie. My husband, Martin, is the village carter and smith, and we’ve got four boys, all of them either fishermen or miners. They all married too, so I’ve got nine grandchildren, if you can believe it!”

Nel offered Aggie her congratulations and another little smile, and then ventured to ask, “Will you tell me a bit about the place? I should like to know more about it, since it is to be my home for the foreseeable future.”

Aggie brightened even more and shuffled her plain, dark skirts, giving a wince and a grunt as the coach lurched over a pothole and the driver cursed audibly above them. Settled, if not entirely comfortable, she began.

“Well, see now. Folks has been fishing these waters for time out of mind. Pilchards is our mainstay, o’course, but the folks over St. Austell way mine clay, and obviously there’s copper and tin mines all over in the north of Cornwall. Mining here is as old as fishing, but it’s starting to dry up here and there now, o’course.”

She barely paused to draw breath before barrelling on, and Nel sat and listened while the older woman talked.

“Now, your Lady Penrose married into the Penrose family — see, she’s from Bath herself originally, though I can’t rightly remember what her family name was, but…” Nel let Agatha's potted history of the fishing and mining community wash over her, paying just enough attention to make polite sounds at the right pauses, but the discomfort of the journey and a decided lack of sleep was beginning to wear her attention span down to a single, fraying thread.

After two hours in the swaying, rolling coach, she felt woozy and weak-stomached, but with Aggie’s near-constant chatter, she at least had a better understanding of the politics of the little village than she’d ever have gained in six months on her own. She’d also learned why Aggie had been in Plymouth, since most folks never had any reason to travel further than the bounds of their own parish. Agatha’s sister’s husband had apparently been killed in the American Revolutionary War some ten years earlier, and since the widow’s health wasn’t the best these days, Aggie made the trip along the coast when she could to see her and take care of her.

Nel’s ticket took her as far as Whitcross, a desolate intersection of paler roads on a clifftop overlooking the tightly-nestled fishing port below, and away across the heather and tufted grass of the heath, she could just see an old manor house in the distance, flanked by tall copper beeches and ash trees. It looked slightly further away than she had anticipated, and she glanced apprehensively down at the travelling trunk at her feet.

Still, she was aching for fresh air and to be free of the sickening motion of the carriage, so she took the driver’s hand and allowed him to guide her safely down onto the hard-packed surface of the road before he lifted her case down for her as well.

From inside, Aggie peered out and scowled disapprovingly. “Now just you wait a moment,” she barked at the driver, who cocked an eyebrow but did pause. “Did they not send someone for you, dearie?” she asked Nel, still leaning out of the doorway and peering about like a disgruntled badger, and using the endearment freely. Apparently, two hours of talking non-stop at Nel had removed any pretence of formality or sense of social distance. Nel might as well have been adopted into Aggie Carter’s family as a niece by that point, and she couldn’t help but smile at the warmth it conjured in her chest.

“I… I never thought that far through,” she admitted, with her hand atop her bonnet as the wind gusted up from the sea below, soaring delightedly over the edge of the cliff and racing on inland as if to continue the momentum of the great rolling breakers that foamed and thundered against the shore. The coachman glanced at his pocket watch and groused something about a schedule that was almost immediately lost to the next inward gust.

“No, no, dearie,” the old woman scoffed. “No, you must come into the village. It’s far too far to go all by yourself, and with that case as well. Here, let me —”

“I can manage the case, I assure you,” Nel said with a gentle smile as Aggie half-toppled, half-leaned out of the coach to pick up the case. “How far is it to the house?”

“Two miles up that hill yonder,” Agatha said, pointing with one gnarled and arthritic finger towards the house on the rise to the north. “Come to the Lantern, and we’ll have one of the lads take you up once you’ve caught your breath.” The Lantern, as Nel now knew thanks to Aggie’s detailed prattling, was the inn at the centre of the village, right on the water near the harbour.

She had been about to protest, but with a sigh, she simply nodded. The constant journeying and jolting had worn her down more than she cared to admit, and while she wasn’t the kind of wallflower she’d met any number of times in London during the Season, a life led mostly indoors with few opportunities for physical activity had not prepared her for a two mile walk in heavy, too-fine clothes, carrying an unwieldy case in gusty conditions. Her family had been invited a number of times to Goodwood House to walk the large park there, and she had frequently ridden a rather spirited mare through the parkland of Lavington Hall with her dear friend William, so she was not entirely unused to the great outdoors, but she did have to admit that her experiences had been rather more curated and sanitised than the wild expanse of heathland visible on all sides of the stagecoach from Whitcross.

“You’re kind, Agatha,” she said, and let the woman heft her case into the otherwise empty coach.

The thing about a tiny village was that an outsider stood out a mile, and a young lady in her mid twenties and dressed in impractical, rich green clothes, stood out like a beacon in a dark night. Everyone turned to watch her as she disembarked from the coach. At home, she had barely garnered a look from anyone. Being the centre of everyone’s curiosity there was novel and, in a word, horrifying.

She almost blurted aloud that one would think she was a revenue man come inspecting for smuggled goods, but she bit it back just in time. Cornwall’s so-called ‘free trade’ and smuggling rackets were absolutely none of her concern as an outsider, infamous though they may be, and it would do her no good to start sticking her nose where it did not belong.

The Lantern was a half-timbered, two-storey building that faced the walled harbour. Its painted sign was peeling and sun-bleached, and it squawked something dreadful as it swung back and forth in the squalling wind. Mullioned windows glinted and shimmered, though the small, diamond panes were caked with a haze of salt spray, and alongside the inn, a hand-cart rumbled down from a narrow side alley towards the harbour beyond, where fishing boats bobbed on their mooring lines at the lapping high tide.

Agatha pushed open the black-painted door but came to an abrupt halt as someone appeared to be leaving the inn at the exact same moment, and nearly barrelled into her and Nel.

“Oh, excuse me,” came a young man’s hoarse tenor, and he stepped aside within the inn’s small porch to allow the two women to enter before he left.

Nel noted briefly that he wore well-made but plain clothes, and carried a hefty looking cane in his left hand, upon which he leaned while he waited for them to pass. He was pale and thin, his undyed linen shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his light brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck into a horsetail. The moment he met her eye, he inhaled in surprise and almost immediately looked away, his large, dark brown eyes turning shy and uncertain. “M’lady,” he mumbled without looking up.

She didn’t have time to correct him and tell him she had no such title, because the moment she had stepped inside, he was off out into the day beyond, limping markedly on his right leg as he went.

Nel turned back to find Agatha waiting for her, watching. “That there was young Edmund Nancarrow,” she supplied as Nel caught up with her. “Local lad. Lots of Nancarrows in this area,” she chuckled. “Can’t move for tripping over a Nancarrow. He was a shy, skittish thing even before he went off to war in the Colonies and came back with a bad leg,” she added. “But he’s a sweetheart if ever I saw one. Tailor’s ’prentice he is now.”

At that, Nel just nodded. Something in her ached when she realised she probably wouldn’t have much to do with the folk from the village once she was ensconced up at Heath Top House, and she half wised she could. They already sounded far more interesting than the Lady Winnifred Penrose, with whom Nel had only exchanged a short flurry of letters before becoming formally engaged as her ‘companion’.

Still, an unmarried woman of Nel’s age and social standing was considered almost past her prime, and given that the few marriage proposals she had received had faded into the mists of her very early adulthood, she had had to find another respectable way to support herself. Hence, Heath Top House.

Aggie bustled her into the main room of the pub, and their arrival caused a flurry of activity that drew the eyes of a good few patrons.

Seated at the wooden bar inside, hunched over a pewter tankard, sat a tall, bulky man in his late-thirties or early forties, with long, thick, dark grey hair shot through with a shimmer of silver white. He had it tied back off his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck and as he turned to regard Nel’s arrival, she met unusually deep green eyes surrounded by a web of crows’ feet lines in a tanned, weathered face. His scowl was dark and full of suspicion, but even the storm clouds in his expression couldn’t mask the fact that he was handsome, in a rugged, rough-hewn kind of way.

When she saw where Nel’s attention had snagged, Aggie let out a little gasp and snatched her by the upper arm to steer her towards an empty table in a bay window, about as far from the wooden bar where the man still sat and glared at them as it was possible to be.

“And that’s Locryn Trevethan,” Aggie hissed as she saw Nel settled into a seat. “Can’t say as I’ve seen him in here more than a handful of times this year though. He’s usually out on the water. Lives alone in an old stone cottage round the bay from here, up at Pilchard Sands. You’d probably best be giving him a wide berth, miss. Not that he should give you any trouble, mind,” she amended carefully, “But he’s not for the likes of you to go mingling with.”

Nel smiled at the protective tone in the older woman’s voice, and nodded once.

With her warning given, Aggie raised her voice and called over to the old man behind the bar. “’ere, Tom! This young lady needs a ride up to Heath Top. You think you can arrange that for her?”

The stoop-shouldered, white-haired man nodded and knuckled his forehead at Nel across the space. “Not the finest, but we got a cart.”

“If you have a horse, I could ride,” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Ain’t got a saddle for a lady,” he said regretfully.

Memories of galloping through the leafy trees of Lavington Hall’s parkland with William flashed across her mind and she suppressed a smile. She certainly hadn’t ridden the grey mare side-saddle while keeping up with her childhood friend, and although it had been a year or so since she’d sat astride a horse instead of side-saddle, she thought she could manage well enough. “I know how to ride a man’s saddle,” she said, “But I do have a travel case I’d need to send someone back for.”

“I could get one of the lads to bring that up for you after,” said Tom, “But it’s almost as much effort to hitch up a cart as it is to tack up a horse for riding, ma’am.”

“Whatever is the least trouble for you will do fine,” she said, and the stoic, weather-beaten old man’s red cheeks darkened and he ducked his head.

While Tom left to sort out transportation to the house, Aggie flapped about getting some refreshments for Nel, leaving her to wait at the table alone.

In the wake of the hubbub and pother Agatha left behind her, Nel took a long, deep breath looked around to find Locryn Trevethan still staring across the room at her. Taken aback by his directness and the intensity of his glare, she tried to smile, but his expression remained thunderous beneath strong, dark brows, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

In a face turned to leather by the sun and sea-wind, wide cheekbones and a heavy brow framed his piercingly green eyes. Never mind that marked crow’s feet around his eyes that made him look like he would rather have been laughing; the contrast between the dark, hostile glower and the soft laughter lines unnerved her and made her feel off-balance, as though her stranger’s presence in their local pub had unknowingly raised the ire of a usually gentle man.

He had a short, neatly-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard around full lips that were currently turned down at the corners and which bore a silver-pink scar across the middle. Despite the warm day, he wore a fisherman’s dense, woollen sweater, and when she risked another look back at him, she found him still frowning openly across the bar at her.

Nel didn’t relax until Aggie returned, at which point the man snapped abruptly out of his trance, slammed a coin down on the bar, and strode from the pub on long legs that were thick as tree trucks at the thigh. The door bounced back off the plasterwork in his wake and his boots rang on the flagstones outside.

“Not one to welcome strangers, I take it,” Nel muttered, and downed half of the cheap, watered-down wine that Agatha had set on the table for her.

“Oh don’t you pay him no mind, miss,” Aggie scoffed, settling herself down into the seat opposite her like a brooding hen and glaring at the pub door. “He don’t seem to like no one in Polgarrack save for sweet Ned Nancarrow, strangely enough. Then again, I ain’t met no one who’s taken a disliking to sweet Ned. Now, Tom will have the horse and cart ready for you in just a moment, but you just take your time and recover after your journey.”

Nel, who had felt ten times better the moment she’d taken her first proper lungful of sea air on stepping out of the swaying stagecoach, looked across the table into the older woman’s face and found a mother’s kindness and compassion in her wrinkled face, and something twisted in her gut. “You’re very kind,” she whispered, unable to muster anything more. “Thank you.”

She chuckled. “You know, and don’t you take this amiss, but you remind me of my niece a little, though she’s a little younger than you.”

Nel’s eyebrows twitched in wry amusement, and Agatha blushed at the impropriety of her words. Nel didn’t get the chance to reassure her because Tom shuffled back in and told her the cart was ready for her.

She laid a coin on the table for the wine and stood, following the innkeep out into the yard and clambering up with her case into the back of the cart. It was hardly a very dignified mode of transport for someone of her station, and when Tom said as much while they rumbled out of the inn’s yard, Nel just laughed and said she didn’t mind.

“Anything is better than that awful rolling stagecoach,” she beamed, and swung her legs back and forth like a child off the back of the cart bed while Tom clucked his tongue at the horse to hurry up.

As they trundled up the narrow, cobbled street from the harbour, they passed Edmund Nancarrow standing outside a tailor’s shop, talking with the beast of a man from the bar. Both men looked up and watched her pass like she was some kind of rare spectacle.

In a way, she supposed she was.

Still, she smiled at them despite her nerves, and Edmund knuckled a non-existent cap at her with a shy smile, while Locryn just glared.

She sighed and wondered what this next chapter in her life would bring.

___

Next chapter ->

Well, what did you think of it so far? I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it, as always!

I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#selkie #bucca #polyamory #polyamorous romance #poly story #o #historical fantasy #shifter romance #poly shifter romance #18th century romance #shapeshifter romance #m/m/f

236 notes · View notes

derangedrhythms · 1 year

Text

[…] she has waited for him all her life without knowing it.

Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; from ‘The Lady of the House of Love’

#angela carter #the bloody chamber and other stories #the lady of the house of love #prose #fragments #f #o

329 notes · View notes

yaffles-world · 2 years

Text

This is absolute self indulgent nonsense. Enjoy.

Reigen Arataka - Plushies, cuddles and The Road to El Dorado

It was one of those days. I had been out shopping, that was draining. Then I had to spend time preparing and organising the week, also draining. All the while, I had been holding out for a rest day tomorrow, only to be called into work at the last minute. I was packing my lunch for tomorrow, when my body shut down. My chest felt tight, and I couldn't breathe, everything felt like it was piling on top of me. I couldn't rationalise anything, and I broke down. I lay down on the kitchen floor, and I cried. I cried for a long, long time.

Minutes, hours, who knows, passed when I heard a knock followed by the front door opening. "Hey, where's my welcome? Been stuck at work all day and Ren's nowhere to be seen!"

I knew in my heart that he was joking, but I just crawled up into an even tighter ball.

I heard a thud. "Holy shit, Ren, are you okay?" Reigen walked over quickly, sitting cross legged next to me, lifting my head onto his lap. I couldn't move. He stroked my hair, gently. I could feel his fingernails touch my skin. "Hey, pretty baby, what happened?"

"It's just all too much… I can't do it…"

Reigen continued stroking my hair. "That really sucks. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with all this. Do you have to work tomorrow?" I nod. "I'm sorry… I'll send a ghost over to harass your boss. Did you finish making your lunch?"

I shook my head. "Now, I can help with that." I could feel his legs shift slightly. I instinctively turned and wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling myself further onto his lap, holding tightly. Despite myself I started to cry again.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," Reigen whispered, and continued stroking my hair. We sat like that for a while. My arms were wrapped around his waist, my head lying on his right thigh. His fingers playing gently with my hair, his fingernails gently crossing the top of my head. My breathing slowed down, as did my heart rate.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled into his leg.

"Ah, no, no, we don't apologise for needing help." He continued brushing my hair with his fingers. Eventually, he grabbed under my arms and pulled me up to sitting, facing him.

"I'm going to get something for you. Are you gonna be okay?" his eyes were wide, his beautiful dark eyes, looking straight at me. His hair fell just above his eyes, and his eyebrows were furrowed slightly. He reached forward and touched my cheek with his hand, rubbing slightly. His hands were warm, and very soft.

I stared back at him. I nodded, slowly, but I felt my breath catch in my throat and my eyes filled with tears. As soon as the first tear formed, Reigen pulled me into a big hug. His arms wrapped around me, completely enveloping me and holding me close. "I know today is hard. And I want you to know… well… I don't want you to feel silly about struggling. But you can do this. I'm just going to be a second, my little pumpkin. And I promise, it's worth your while. But I'll stay right here until you feel ready."

I just sat there for a moment, his arms around me, his fingers slowly brushing up and down my back without moving his hand. I rested my head on his shoulder and took a deep breath in. He smelt warm, and slightly sweet and minty. The smell of smoke was starting to wash out from his clothes. My heart filled with pride for him, and I smiled. I nodded and pulled away.

"Okay, I'll just be a moment, my pumpkin," Reigen said, helping me sit against the wall.

In just a moment he came back, his arms full of stuff. First, he sat down and put all the stuff next to him, before passing me a pillow. I reached out and squished my face into the pillow. I could hear him shuffling around, before saying, "Hey, my lovely cupcake?" he reached out and squeezed my leg, "the pillow was for sitting on, would you like some help?"

Oh man. My brain had really shut down. I couldn't form words. Reigen gently laughed and held my hand, helping me up and putting the pillow underneath me for me to sit on. He sat back down, and lay down a picnic blanket. Reigen then reached over and grabbed a few of my favorite plushies - an octopus, a teddy bear and a bunny, and handed them to me. "Alright, you catch up with these guys, I'm going to finish making your lunch, okay?" Reigen stood up, and gave me a pat on the head.

He finished making my lunch, and packed it away for tomorrow.

"Guess what I bought tonight?"

I looked at him, expectantly. "Takeout!" he gestured wildly at a few plastic bags on the kitchen table. "Hope that's okay. I knew you were having a bit of an overwhelming day, so…"

"Thank you!" I exclaimed and he smiled, carrying over the bags and grabbing two bowls. He sat down, setting one bowl in front of me and one in front of him. He rummaged through the plastic bags, pulling out two containers of chicken udon noodle soup and several takoyaki balls. He opened the two soup containers and poured them into the respective bowls, giving me a quick kiss while leaning over the soup.

He grabbed two pairs of chopsticks and held one out to me. "Chopsticks okay tonight?" he asked. I nodded and took the chop sticks. I set the plushies next to us on the blanket, before starting to eat.

"Hey, shouldn't we give our friends some?" Reigen asked, smiling, and putting a takoyaki ball in front of each soft toy.

I giggled, causing Reigen to blush slightly. "Reigen, they aren't going to eat them because takoyaki is gross!"

Reigen gasped loudly. "How! Dare! You!" he gestured at me with his chop sticks in accusation, and shook his hands wildly. "If there wasn't two bowls of hot soup in between us, you would pay for that statement!"

I laughed again, before returning to my soup. Delicious, as usual.

"Hey, bunny, do you mind?" I gestured at the takoyaki ball in front of my plush bunny.

"No, I don't mind at all," Reigen said behind his hand in a falsetto voice. I laughed and picked up the takoyaki ball and ate it. "Not so gross now, huh?"

"Mm, no," I said, still chewing, "It's still gross."

"Well, if I see correctly, there is no longer soup between us!" Reigen gestured wildly at the lack of soup. I gasped, and tried to jump up and run away, but it was too late. Reigen had already grabbed onto me and commenced tickling until I could barely breath, and then smothering my face in kisses.

I was lying on the floor and he was on top of me, propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at me. He leaned in, slowly and I lifted my head slightly to give him a kiss, but he just collapsed onto me. He immediately started fake snoring. "Reigen!" I exclaimed, breathlessly, "you're too heavy, get off!"

He continued fake snoring, with an unmistakable hint of laughter. I was shoving at him to get off but it was no use. I finally stopped, and just held him. He lifted his head, laughed, and got up off of me.

"Alright," he said before getting up and pulling me up after him. "Want to watch The Road to El Dorado?"

I smiled, jumping up and down slightly and flapping my arms against my sides.

"Gonna take that as a yes." Reigen put the dishes onto the sink, and picked up the picnic blanket. While he put the picnic blanket away, I grabbed the plushies and set up the TV.

He came back holding my favourite blanket. When he got close enough, I grabbed him and pulled him onto the couch. Reigen put the blanket on us, and I snuggled up close, his arm around me. I held two of the pushies, he held the other one in his other arm. I rested the back of my head on his chest, and listened to his heart beat as we watched the movie. And eventually, I fell asleep in his arms…

#reigen my babygirl #romantic f/o #self ship #f/o content #romantic f/o content #f/o story

4 notes · View notes

arttrampbelle · 2 months

Text

For frollo enjoyers

Made this for y'all.

#judge claude frollo #frollo #claude frollo #disney villain #disney villain f/o #disney villain self ship #the hunchback of notre dame #hond #imagine him singing hellfire bout you but in a completely different context #idc what people think i will put this man in a snowglobe and shake it violently(affectionately)#i will bite that man(affectionately)#i am feral for him #he's my mew mew man and i get to make him my kitty cafe maid #but he's also a dom and can softly read me stories and ride me like his war horse too #plz don't mind me in the tags

59 notes · View notes

duckprintspress · 11 days

Text

Did you know? So far this April, Duck Prints Press has put out 10, yes t.e.n., new short stories? Two to our website, and eight to our Patreon! Learn all about them now...

Website Releases

Title: Foundations Author: Johnathan Stern

F/F, Science Fiction, Meet Cute on Mars

Addison is browsing the stacks of the Valles Marineris Coprates Chasma University Memorial Library when she's shocked to find someone looking for the same obscure book about the history of space travel that is.

Title: Worlds Apart (but Still Close) Author: Sanne Burg

F/M and M/M to F/M/M, Urban Paranormal, Confessions of Mutual Attraction, When in Doubt Fuck it Out

Flo is consistently frustrated with how her boyfriend Arthur's bodyguard Kacen is always watching her suspiciously. But when she discovers Arthur and Kacen in bed together, it casts a whole new light on the relationships between the three of them, and Flo finds herself considering possibilities that had never dawned on her before.

Patreon Releases

Title: Coffee For My Valentine? Author: Cedar McCafferty-Svec

F/F, Contemporary Romance with a Splash of Magic, Bookshop-slash-Coffee-Shop Meet-Cute, Heat Resistance for the Win

Valentine's day is invariably a disaster for Nissa. And when she starts this Valentine's work day by spilling coffee all over a new customer?

Maybe she should have just stayed in bed this morning.

Title: Glass Slipper: A Dance Author: Cedar McCafferty-Svec

F/NB, Fantasy, Dating Royalty is Hard Even if Your Stepmother Isn't Evil, Attraction at First Sight, Getting to Know One Another

Going to the ball was Marienne's dream, but it still never occurred to her that she'd catch the eye of the Royal Heir Apparent. Their dance is a dream come true, and their walk around the gardens together helps demonstrate they could have a future together even putting perfect first-dances aside, but that doesn't mean things will be easy.

Title: Into the Wyvern's Lair Author: Mikki Madison

F/F (Pre-Relationship), Fantasy, the Inherent Eroticism of Being Competing Mercenaries After the Same Mark (and the Same Pay Day)

Usually, Kella wouldn't take a job from a tiny podunk town in exchange for the risks of facing wyvern, but they're offering 25 gold pieces, and that's too much to resist. She doesn't expect the job to be that hard - it's not her first time facing a wyvern - but she also doesn't expect competition, in the form of a stubborn mage who has been hired by the same town at the same rate. But what she really doesn't expect is the wyvern...

Title: Washer Wars: A Laundromat Feud Author: Samantha M. Piper

F/F, Contemporary Romance, Meet-Awkward, Sometimes the Only Difference Between Fighting and Flirting is Point of View

Every Saturday morning, before the crack of dawn, Dee goes to the laundromat to do her laundry alone and in the quiet, with her pick of the available machines.

Until the morning she's not alone anymore.

Truly, she doesn't know what's worse: the loss of her solitude, or that this intruder has taken the biggest washer.

Title: Fool's Gold Author: Eliot Lovell

M/M (Pre-Relationship), Fantasy, Dragon Hordes and Lifelong Dreams, Hurt/Comfort

When Tomas sets off to defeat a dragon, he does so despite the aches and pains of growing older and a bum hip. Little does he expect that his attempt to be a valiant hero will be derailed prematurely when he's set upon by wolves. After they leave him unconscious in the woods, the last thing he expects is to be rescued and nursed to help. But he has one burning question: who found him, and why?

Title: Escape Author: Sanne Burg

F/M + F/M Established Relationship with Partner Swapping, Contemporary Romance, Middle-Aged Characters, Friends with Benefits to Lovers

Anxiety means that it doesn't take much to push Liam into needing some quiet time to himself, and he's so appreciative of his wife Alice taking the initiative to get him that quiet time.

He's slightly less appreciative when their friends-with-benefits partner-swap married friends Dan and Lola show up, especially considering that it was finding RPF fanart of him and Dan having sex that triggered Liam's anxiety in the first place...

Title: Old Kings and New Author: Lyonel Loy

M/M, Fantasy, Omega/Omega, Middle-Aged Characters, Bonding Over Shared Favorite (Rape Fantasy) Books

No one in their right mind would name Isemund king, but he's the only heir left, and so the council names him and then flees before the conqueror Caith can seize the castle.

Isemund is prepared to die at the hands of the invader.

Caith has other plans in mind.

Title: Georgia Rain Author: R. L. Houck This is a sequel to the Patreon-exclusive story "Pretty 7 Days a Week"

F/NB, Contemporary Suspense, Reunion after a Long Separation, They Work Hard for the Money, You'll Never Guess How This Sex Romp Gets Interrupted...

Four years after the events of Pretty 7 Days a Week, Tomas, who has changed their name to Aster, has built themself a new, better life no longer working on the streets.

The last thing they expect is for Lydia to come sweeping back into their life. It's also the last thing they want...or so they keep trying to tell themself...

So, Looking for New Queer Short Stories to Read? Visit Our Webstore and Become a Patreon Backer Now!

41 notes · View notes