#crystal stop tagging this post challenge | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

txemrn · 1 year

Text

Keep Your Head Up

Book: TRR/TRH Post-series

Word count: ~2325

Song Inspo: "Keep Your Head Up, Princess" - Anson Seabra

Warning: fairly fluffy (no one dies!); tiny sprinkles of angst, mentions of bullying

A/N: I am participating in week 21 of @choicesflashfics prompt challenge! I chose prompt #2: "I look at you and my heart breaks because all I see is loneliness.” The prompt will be in bold.

A/N 2: Most of the characters and some of the plot points belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Please excuse my errors! Also, if you are curious about Royal Roulette: it's a fun little challenge you can do anytime for yourself! Take your music and hit mix! Take the first song that pops up, and use it as a muse for a fic! No need to credit me, but do tag me if you do it because I LOVE reading other RR!

~🖤~

"Where is she?" Liam grits his teeth, frantically glancing around the ballroom before turning back to his head guards. A strangled-growl drips from his words, a crimson hue coating his vision. "Can anyone tell me where the hell she went?"

Not waiting for an answer, he pushes open the heavy, ornate double doors to exit the ballroom before bounding down the side corridor that leads to the grand staircase. Each step he takes becomes quicker, angrier, and despite being in full regalia, his walk becomes a run. Once he reaches the living quarters of the palace, he takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches her room. And he knocks softly.

When she doesn't answer, he raps against the polished wood once more. "Love?" But again, she doesn't answer.

He sighs, his jaw ticking, knowing that he needs to speak with her. To hug her. To hold her.

To tell her that he loves her.

He turns the doorknob, inviting himself into her room; but upon entry, he notices the darkened room is empty. Her bed is still made, her belongings untouched.

He lets out a heavy sigh, turning on his heel to search elsewhere– that is until he hears the soft rustle of taffeta from the large, oak wardrobe on the far end of the room.

A smirk grows across his face as he saunters to the closet. Of course, she would pick this as her hiding place. Her favorite book was The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe from C. S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia. Staying quiet, he cautiously approaches, leaning in closely, just to verify he heard correctly.

And suddenly, a breath hitches as a quiet, almost inaudible sob continues.

And the fibers of his heart begin to splinter, shattering into a million shards on the ground.

He thought he could protect her and shield her from the snide comments and hateful glares. The judgment from the public was bad enough, but the turned up noses and undercut statements made by nobles could be relentless. Seeing her bright light and contagious laughter stolen at the ruthless words of bullies seeped a new level of sadness into his heart.

He gently taps on the door of the wardrobe. And instantly, the movement stops, retreating back into hiding. "It's me," he softly whispers, "Daddy."

After a brief, silent pause, the hatch unlocks, the door swinging open to reveal six-year-old Eleanor tucked in the corner underneath her winter coats. Her pink ball gown is scrunched up around her body as she hugs her knees, her trusty stuffed lion Fabian under her arm for cuddles. Her freckled, cherub face is swollen and blotchy, wet from her tears. Her hair remains in a blonde French braid with pink jeweled barrettes, fixed by her mother for the evening.

"Eleanor?" Liam quietly crawls onto the floor, pulling his ankle under his knee to crisscross his long legs. He takes a deep breath, his crystal gaze matching hers as she coyly watches him like a frightened animal. "What's wrong, Squirt?"

A large tear slopes down her nose as she tucks her head lower into her arms. She remains silent.

Liam gently clears his throat. "Why aren't you down at the Baron's ball?" Again, the young princess remains quiet except for her rhythmic sniffles.

He turns his attention to her feet, noticing her beloved pair of black Converse high tops. And he can't help but smile. Gosh, he loves his girl.

Eleanor has always marched to the beat of her own drum. She showed interest in so many different things, playing with both dolls and toy cars, eager to play soccer and climb trees while also hosting tea parties and playing in her mom's makeup. She was rough and tumble, but loved glitz and glam. She wasn't too fond of wearing heavy, itchy ball gowns, but when Riley suggested she wear her Chuck Taylors like a comfort item, their daughter couldn't wait for the next royal function.

That event was tonight.

"Princess," he sighs, "I look at you and it breaks my heart because all I see is loneliness. I want to make whatever this is better, but I can't unless you talk to me." When she doesn't budge, Liam glances back to her high-tops, and remembers she was debuting them tonight. He taps on them. "Did you show your friends your cool sneakers?"

Eleanor looks up with a scowl before putting her head back down. "They're not cool," she cries.

Liam's eyebrows furrow with curiosity. "What do you mean they're not cool?" He reaches over and grabs her foot, playfully inspecting the shoe. "These look pretty cool to me, but then again–" he tickles her knee, "--I think the person wearing them makes them the coolest shoe ever."

Eleanor looks up with a pitiful smile, wiping at her face with her arm. Her brilliant blue eyes match her father's, more ablaze from being red with irritation. She quickly climbs out of her corner, and reaches for her dad; but before her arms could reach him, he was already pulling her into his own embrace. She clings tightly to his neck as his large hands rub endearing circles on her back.

"They said they were stupid."

"What?" Liam looks down as his daughter readjusts to sit in his lap. "Who said your shoes were stupid?"

"The other girls," she holds out her feet, knocking the toes of her shoes together. "They said that real princesses don't wear boy shoes."

"And how would they know? You're the only princess in that ball." He boops her nose causing her face to scrunch with a genuine smile. "Uh, Squirt, where are your glasses?"

Her elation died at her dad's words. "I don't want to wear 'em, Daddy."

Liam extends his arm into the wardrobe, pulling out the purple bifocals, holding them out in his hands. "Why not?"

"'Cause…" she fidgets with her skirt, "I'm not pretty with them on."

"Squirt," he places his finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "It's impossible for you to not be pretty. In fact," he smooths out her dress before pushing back a gold wisp of hair. "You are the prettiest girl I know."

"Daddy," she bashfully singsongs.

"What?" He sits up a little taller. "I know these things. I am a king." He chuckles. "Now, about these glasses–"

"--I don't want to wear them."

"But they look so pretty on you, Eleanor," he unfolds the glasses, offering them to her.

"They give me four eyes. And-and I don't want four eyes, Daddy! What if they turn into five… or six?" She drags her fingers down her cheeks.

Liam titters to himself. "Who told you glasses give you 'four eyes'?"

She crosses her arms. "Stupid boys."

"Eleanor," Liam warns, "you know we don't say words like that about others."

She pouts harder, slumping in her father's lap.

"Let me show you something," Liam points to her eyes. "You have one… two eyes right here, but you need glasses to help you see, right?" She nods. "These," he looks at the eyewear in his hands, "are like having another set of eyes. See?" He points to each lens, "three... Four."

"Oh!" A wave of understanding crawls across Eleanor’s face. "Four eyes!"

"Right," Liam snickers, placing an endearing hand around her back. "People say it to try to be rude, but honestly, all they're pointing out is that you wear glasses. That's it."

"Oh," Eleanor considers her father's words before continuing. "But they said I was ugly in them. And I don't want to be ugly, Daddy."

"Hrmmm," Liam thoughtfully looks at her glasses, and then slips the small pair on his face. Clearly made for a child, the eyewear pinches tightly at his nose and across his temples. "Am I ugly?"

"No," Eleanor giggles, holding a hand over her mouth.

"But, I thought these glasses make people ugly–"

"Daddy!" She squeals, "you're being silly!"

Liam chuckles, hearing her laugh again. He takes off the glasses, cleaning them off against his shirt. "Eleanor, do you know why princesses wear crowns?"

"Because they're princesses," she answers proudly. "And crowns are pretty."

Liam reaches over to a wooden chest next to the wardrobe that is filled with costumes, play clothes and accessories. He pulls out a plastic, gold crown with bright pink jewels glued around the band.

"Crowns," he continues, holding the toy crown in his hand, "help princesses keep their heads up."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah, huh!" Liam jovially retorts. "See, some people can be very mean. And because you are a princess, you're an easy target for people to be mean. But do you know why they're mean?"

Eleanor innocently shakes her head, her attention glued to her father's words.

"They're mean because they're jealous."

"Jealous?"

"That's right," Liam nods. "You have something they don't have. It can be a pretty dress or a pretty smile," he pinches her cheek. "Sometimes it's simply because someone else hurt their feelings, and they want someone else to hurt, too. They're jealous of your happiness. They think that if they're mean, it will make them feel better."

Liam takes the toy crown and fixes it to her head. "Being part of the royal family means you have a lot more things, that you are given a lot more opportunities than people not born into nobility--which, you should never, ever be ashamed of. But we live our lives in the public eye, so people from around the world know how privileged we are."

Eleanor taps her finger on her lips, knitting her brows together. "So… they get jealous?"

"That's right, Squirt," his lips slowly curl. "They can."

"But, Daddy? It… it still hurts my feelings."

"I know it does, baby," he pulls her in close to his chest, "I know it does. But just remember: those mean words are not true." Liam looks up at the gaudy crown on his daughter's head. "So, that's why princesses wear crowns. That's why you wear a crown, Squirt. It's there to remind you that when people say mean, untrue things about you, keep your head up. Don't listen to them. You don't want your crown to–"

There's a sudden thud on the ground.

"Oops!" Eleanor’s hands fly up over her mouth as she looks at the plastic crown that slipped off her head, crashing to the floor.

Liam rolls his eyes before offering a kind expression towards his daughter. "Come here, Squirt." He wraps his arms around her, placing tender kisses in her hairline.

"Daddy?" She slides on her glasses. "Is it too late to go back to the ball?"

"Ehh," Liam shakes his wrist, his watch turning for him to read. "It looks like the night is over."

"Aww rats," Eleanor deflates, "Uncle Maxwell was going to play Baby Shark for us to dance to."

"Well," Liam stops, glancing down at his daughter. "Do you still want to dance?"

Eleanor’s eyes light up as she eagerly nods her head. She grabs her father's finger, guiding him to an open area of the room. "What should we do for music?"

"I've got an idea." Liam bends over, holding out his hands, curling his fingers into a C-shape with his thumb. "Ba…by… shark! Do-do-do-do!"

Eleanor squeals, joining in with her father singing and doing the hand motions. They both dance around the room, creating their own dance party they both would never forget.

------

Baron's Ball 10 Years Later…

The rubber soles of her Converse high-tops tap hypnotically against the polished ballroom floor. She anxiously chews on her nails as she watches the other noble children laugh and dance amongst the parents.

She had spent the better part of a day getting ready for the annual event: hair curled, pinned and hair-sprayed into place; make-up carefully fixed to the features of her classic beauty; her baby blue ball gown perfectly tailored to her budding womanly curves. But even though she felt beautiful, she remained nervous of facing the other kids, and she knew she would probably be left alone, no one wanting to dance with her.

Life for Eleanor didn't get easier at royal functions. The bullying and backhanded comments continued over the years. It hurt, but the desire to hide and cry became weaker and weaker as she remembered her father's words so long ago.

Keep your head up…

"May I have this dance?"

Eleanor’s pedal pink lips curl into a bright smile as she turns towards the familiar baritone voice. "Daddy, you said you were going to stay in the–"

"And miss the chance to dance with my beautiful daughter?" He beams.

A soft blush crawls across her cheeks as she takes his hand, following his lead to the dance floor. After a cordial bow, they begin to waltz, their feet gliding across the floor with ease.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"Oh, Squirt," he nervously titters, "someday you'll be queen, and these dances with you… well, they'll just be an old man's precious memory."

Eleanor scoffs. "I will always save a dance for you."

Liam laughs. "You might want to take that up with your husband. If he knows how much of treasure you are, he'll never let go–"

"Excuse me, your majesty?"

Liam and Eleanor stop at the timid voice, turning to see Bartie Beaumont mid-bow.

"Son?" Liam gives a curious, yet humored glare.

"I was wondering, that is, if it's okay with you… oh! And if it's okay with your daughter… um…" clearly nervous, the young man takes a cleansing breath as he wipes his palms against his slacks. "May I have this dance?"

Liam turns to his daughter, noticing her eye's brightening by the moment with anticipation. And he smiles. He takes her hand, guiding her closer for Bartie to take it. As they begin to bow, Liam clears his throat, making both Bartie and Eleanor freeze.

"I'm watching you, Beaumont."

"Y-yes, sir," Bartie swallows thickly.

"Daddy," Eleanor growls.

Liam takes his cue and begins to walk away–that is, until he turns around again. "And leave some room in between–"

"Daddy!"

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

~🖤~

Tags (please let me know if you wish to be added/removed)

PERMA

@alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL TRR

@3pawandme @alyshak92 @iaminlovewithtrr @lovingchoices14 @malblk21 @rubiwalker @sfb123 @twinkleallnight

#the royal romance #the royal heir #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices trr #choices trh #royal roulette #choices flashfics #liam rys #king liam #princess eleanor #bartie beaumont #choices the royal romance #choices the royal heir

70 notes · View notes

winterzsurprise · 1 year

Text

Thorned Exhales

Pairing: Namor of Talokan x Shuri

Summary: The people of Talokan believe in the concept of soulmates. However, even after years of this tradition, nobody has ever seen the result of an unaccepted mate moreso, a fated partner who's another species from you until their King met the Wakandan Princess, Shuri.

Words: 2.4k

Tags: Stubborn Namor, Hanahaki Disease AU, Soulmate AU, Namor flirts with Shuri to change the subject lmao, Blood, Post-Canon.

had a random thought one day and wrote it down. It's not everyone's cup of tea but they fit the scenario better.

The people of Talokan believe in the concept of soulmates.

After ingesting the luminescent flower their ancestors crushed centuries ago, the remnants of the petals sometimes resonate with another part of it from someone's stomach. And when it does, it forms a soulmate bond.

It activates the moment a Talokanil sees their fated mate for the first time and then they shall go through the typical period of courting, offering their hunts, fetching the shiniest and prettiest conch shell or giving out crystals found in the deep sea.

However, even after years of this tradition spiralling around their country, nobody has ever seen the result of an unaccepted mate moreso, a fated partner who's another species from you.

A violent hacks of coughs echoed in the empty hall as Namor faltered in his step, the burn on his lungs fresh and agonising with every wheeze.

Everything hurts, from his throat, his chest and even down to his abdomen. Yet even then, he smiled at his cousin who stood beside him, worry marrying her face while he hacked his guts out.

There was something lodging itself at the back of his air pipe restricting his ability to breathe, even with no more coughs to bark out he continued, the apparent block in his throat a nuisance for such a busy day.

Then that's when he saw it.

In his palm lies a pretty blue petal, glowing lightly under the bioluminescent lights above them. It looked soft and innocent with its color and texture, only if it didn't have blood staining half of it.

Namora gasped beside him, her hands reaching to stop his palms from closing.

"K'uk'ulkan, this is a matter to be taken seriously."

It was, without a doubt, an important matter to discuss with the council. But if word spreads about their king weakening after their fight with the surface dwellers, it might spark a war between them and their reluctant ally. Not to mention, the possibility of bold fiends who'd dare challenge him for the throne.

The moment the petal fell into his palm, Namor knew it was best to keep it hidden for now.

He can't afford losing the only alliance they have, can't risk the only connection he has with her.

Closing a fist, he turned to her with a small smile. "A single petal won't hurt me, child."

"But this is not a mere common disease. This stems from the flower our ancestors—"

Namor stood up straight, crushing the petal in his grasp before disposing of it on the side as if it offended him personally and disrespected his mother.

He couldn't deny his cousin's claims because he, too, grew concerned for his well-being after seeing him spit out a bloodied petal. It wasn't unusual for him to get sick as he catches a cold every century at least so he paid no heed to his coughs before. Turned a blind eye to the relentless tug of string at the back of his mind leading him into the direction where the Black Panther herself is.

He has felt the unusual tightness and heaviness on his chest ever since he met the noble princess of Wakanda's gaze full of hatred and felt her bloodthirst from outside the ruined throne room. One of the factors that helped her win against him at the beach.

He realised many things in that one moment, where she held his spear over her head, ready to take his life. Yet the biggest conclusion out of them all was his soul being tethered to hers.

The soulmate bond is nothing but a distracting one, he always thinks as he watches everyone around him become fools on chains following the hymn of the ocean. Drawn like the crew of the ship walking into the sea to pursue the sirens' sweet lullabies.

Everyone thinks he's immune to the soulmate bonds due to his godship, imagine their shock once they find out who he's tethered to.

"My king, you must inform the council of this! We must find a cur—"

It was a relief that all of Talokan knows not of the consequences of being rejected by their soulmate but if his cousin continued to nag, it won't take long for somebody to realize the secret he wishes to keep.

No one must know that his soul hooked itself with the Panther of the surface.

Namor brings a finger to her lips. "Not a word of this encounter shall escape between us."

"But—"

"It is unprecedented, yes, but I am a god who has lived for hundreds of years, I will not die from a simple illness."

Nobody has ever seen the results of a mate being rejected in all of those five hundred years Talokan has existed, much less than a Talokan's soul being tethered to a human. This event is something to be written down for research, to be overjoyed for, but with the life of their king involved, not a soul would rejoice.

Namor didn't want his cousin to feel pity for him nor did he want her to worry, so he kept his other symptoms hidden away.

He smiled at her, his pink bottom lips stained with crimson and Namora's body prickled with goosebumps, the crease between her eyebrows deepening.

He reaches to iron them down with his thumb, there was no use for worrying for him. As he said before, he has lived through wars and famine throughout those five centuries of living, a petal won't kill a god.

"Believe in your king, I am alright."

He launches into another hacking fit and Namora could only stand and run her hand up and down his back. She doesn't shed tears often, she's a soldier and the king's closest aid, she wasn't allowed to show weakness for the fear of disappointing Namor.

But for this one time, she let a single droplet fall from her eyes.

"Aiii, what did I say about worrying about me?" He says, voice hoarse from sore throat as he wiped her tears away.

"Talokan can't bear the loss of its king, I cannot think of a future where you don't get to lead it."

He laughed but was abruptly stopped by a couple of coughs. "I'll be fine, child. Don't cry, I will not die of any illness."

He repeated them to console the woman but in truth, he was also convincing himself. Namor didn't like the mystery of his illness, scared of it even but like any other hardships he has went through, he'll live.

With that, Namor continues down the hall leaving his cousin alone in the corridor, staring at his retreating back. Wide shoulders that used to look firm whenever she stared at it at every battle were now slumping as his body shook with another fit.

Namora felt helpless, stuck between following her king's orders of not uttering a single word of his condition outside the two of them and running to their reluctant ally, Wakanda, for help.

Their technologies are more advanced than any other nation, despite both having access to vibranium, it was them who handled and mastered the ore to aid them and fit it to satiate their nation's needs.

With the brain of the current Black Panther, Namora is sure she'd find help and medicine for her king from the princess.

Other than her pride and loyalty as a Talokanil getting shattered by telling their previously-enemy nation of their king's illness, Namor's orders weighed on her shoulders like chains connected to the ground, his words are concrete, she had no choice but to follow his whims.

But once it all becomes too grim, Namora pledged to herself to shed all pride and approach the princess for help.

She stayed silent, trusting her leader a little more as she guarded him whenever he performed his daily task of patrolling the borders and when he surfaced to meet the royalties of Wakanda to discuss their reluctant alliance and the Americans continued threats on the nation and its resources.

‘‘Why can’t we attack their vehicles before they enter Wakandan territory? Or eliminate the whole country altogether to remove the headache once and for all?” Namor suggested nonchalantly as he sat comfortably on the cushioned seats of the new throne room, paying no mind to the stink eyes he received from the other royals.

The Wakandan King scowled. "Why do we even bother inviting you in here when all your mouth can spout is war?”

Shuri waved M’baku off. “Let us not fight here like childrens. We need a solution as soon as possible. I don’t think agent Ross can—”

Then the most horrible chances happened and Namor started coughing violently. Namora arose to her feet in muted panic and in a blink, she’s supporting his body that shook with his coughs, standing in between him and the eyes of the panther if he ever barked petals once more.

This earned the Wakandan royalties’ attention, eyebrows knitting as they awaited for him to calm down. But when it relented after a few seconds passed, Shuri spoke up with her eyebrows knitted.

“Namor, do you need medical help? I can fix you up in my lab.”

But the feathered serpent king waved her worries off. His ribs constricting around his laboured heart at the call of his second name, he has never minded the use of it until it was the Wakandan princess who uses it. His heart throbs as he's once reminded of her distaste for him.

If only he wasn't driven by anger, he wouldn't have to suffer as much as he does now.

He coughed out another bloodied petal and he closed his palm around it, thankful for Namora's body blocking their sight. They mustn’t know.

“There is nothing to worry about here, princess.” He grinned. “Iron that creases between your eyebrows. If not, I would start mistaking it as your concern for me.”

Instantly, the princess’ worried expression crumpled into disgust and he laughed boisterously, an ache in his chest resurfaced and launching him into a small fit. He rose to his feet, not noticing how worry graced Shuri’s face once more as he wiped the blood from his lips discreetly.

But he wasn't fast enough when the smell of iron reached Shuri’s sharp nose and the hair on her nape stood at attention, no doubt alerted by it.

She wasn’t foreign to its smell and the symptoms the Talokan king displayed, if anything, she thinks he caught the same sickness her brother had. Seeing the concern from her face, King M’Baku spoke up from beside her.

“Are you sure you don’t need our aid?”

“I am worried about those coughs, I can smell the blood from here, Namor.” Shuri added.

He froze. Of course, the panther could smell it.

He doesn’t want to discuss his well-being further, he needs to retreat back into the ocean with Namora, the pain blooming in his chest almost unbearable as it shears another long line into his chest, its seams burning deep into his lungs.

“It’s been months already, princess. How about calling me by my real name?”

Shuri groaned. “By Bast’s name—”

“We are thankful for your offer but we must get going.” Namora butts in, foreseeing the path the current conversation will take. A frustrating scene of push and pull between a stubborn princess who only wants to help and a stubborn king who doesn't want it.

With a bow from her, she subtly held up Namor as they exited the throne room.

The apparent worry and panic in her face wasn’t missed by their allies. When M’baku heard the mention of blood, despite all of the horrors their reluctant ally had rained upon their nation, he felt uneasy for letting him off when they knew the symptoms all too well since it was the same illness that took their previous king, T’Challa.

The Feathered Serpent god might've cost their previous Queen's life and destroyed their city but they're merely humans who felt sympathy for others, an ugly feature of their mortality no matter what angle Shuri looks at it.

The princess doesn’t know how to react. She should be overjoyed at the timed life her mother’s murderer has yet here she is, worried beyond belief. Shuri could see the wicked grin N'Jadaka is giving her from the ancestral plane, could feel it even and her blood pressure arose once more.

She doubted her ancestors and the late queen would be enthusiastic to hear such a thing from her.

“Are you sure you smelled blood from him?”

She turned to M’baku. “Yes, it worries me.”

If the man was surprised at her admission, he didn’t express it, nodding soundlessly instead as he stood up from his throne, taking his staff with him.

“Let us watch where it’ll lead us for now, it seems that god doesn't want us to meddle. But I am sure that cousin of his will soon find us if anything were to happen."

Shuri couldn't find it in herself to deny his words yet the worry settled deep in her gut remained unmoved. She massaged her fingers as she stared at the setting sun outside floor to ceiling glass panes behind the throne, thoughts muddled with possibilities and needless worries.

#namor fic #mcu namor #namor x shuri #shuri #black panther #black panther wakanda forvever spoilers #black panther spoilers #wakanda forever spoilers #namshuri #namshuri fic #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #namshuri one shot #namor x shuri one shot #hanahaki disease au #soulmate au

48 notes · View notes

slepyicarus · 2 years

Text

Mc Monday

Yeah im working on catching up lol. It takes me a bit to write/draw often lol

As always the Mc!Monday challenge is by the kind and amazing @obeythedemons if u like my post to these check out Lances! They are just *chefs kiss*

Prompt: MC accidentally touches a book in Satan’s room that casts an illusion over them both that shows MC’s greatest dreams coming true. What are they, how does MC react, can MC get out?

Tags: slight Anger flare up, described panic attack, past child emotional/ verbal abuse, past child negelect, transphobia, reference to suicide

Humming along to the music Icarus calmly played on his DDD while waiting for the cookies frosting to set when the quite crystal like notification noise interrupted the music. Icarus startled, losing the level. Scroffing he opened his messager. His angered calmed when he saw Satan had texted him about their bi-daily reading session.

Now equipped with a tray full of tea and cookies Icarus knocked on the wrathful demon's door. The door opened softly revealing the as usually messy of book towers library that Satan calls his room. Said demon sat on his bed with Lavendel, which most-likely walzed right to Satans room for treats and pets from Icarus' room, who purred until she saw his owner. Now she meowed softly earning a chuckle from her current bed and her owner. "Hello you two. How are the cuddles today?", Icarus laughed slightly, setting the tray down on the ony free space of Satan's table. Satan smiled right back at the other "Impeccable as usual. You brought cookies too?" Looking for the book he read and left on the table last time Icarus hummed as responds before explaining "Levi has a gaming event coming up so i thought to show my support i would make him some Ruri-chan themed cookies. Im still working on my icing skills but they taste really good. Finally there it is." "Wait Icarus, thats not-", the avatar tried to warn his friend but it was too late.

Icarus squeaks out of surprise and covers his head while a book tower he didn't see was balancing against his book tipped over, spilling countless books onto the floor.. A few books fell on the halfdemon before falling onto the floor in the end. As soon as the rain of books stopped Satan rushed over to the other demon looking him over for any wounds. "Are you ok?? Does it hurt anywhere?" Taking the book that landed on his head off Icarus shook his head. "I'm ok." Satan took the book Icarus held and paled a bit. "Eh Icarus, don't panic but you touched a cursed book.." "I did what now?", Icarus shrieked as he paled himself looking up at the blond, "What does it do" "It shows your biggest deepest dream to the ones that touched it." "oh no-"

"Icarus? Baby is that you?", a sweet voice could be heard from the door of the room, making both demons turn to the door where a short chubby brunette woman with a soft purple and white dress stood having the same face and green eyes as the half demon. Icarus took a step back holding his own hand close to his chest, his breathing growing quicker and more shallow. He could feel the cold sweat forming on his neck and back. Nervously he swished his split tail from side to side. Starting to shake his head he said shaken "N-No, your not real. I know yo-your just a hallucination. Just part of the curse." Placing an arm around the shaking half demon Satan pulled him closer to help him with his fear. "But baby its me. Really.", the woman exclaimed, walking to the two demons, "Look at you. My sweet baby having made it so far to even go to an academy! I'm so proud of you.." Icarus breath hitched as soon as he felt her hand petting his head right in between where his horns have manifested from his panic. He shifted into his demon form in his panic without noticing it making his though grow louder with all hhis memories. Everything back up, making his eyes water. "Oh Icarus..dont cry, my son..everything will be alright now..Mama's here..", the woman cooed cupping his cheek and start petting it with her thumb. Slowly tears began to roll down his reddened cheeks which she brushed aside while whispering small words of comfort before dissappearing just as suddenly as she appeared. His knees finally gave out and he fell to his knees, small sobs escaping the usually alsways smiling demon. Two arms circled him and slowly rearranged him so that he lend againgst the chest of the book smart demon. Finally Icarus could noticed and feel Satans presence again. He gripped into the sweater vest as if his life depended on it and let the sobs flow out of him, letting them carry all of his hurting toughts and heart break with them. Satan held him thtough it, petting his now open wild lilac hair and whispering words of comfort and encouragement.

It took a while for Icarus to calm down enough to only tired sniffes. All his trauma resurfacing made him exhausted and wanting nothing but continued to be held. "Do you feel better now, Ru?", Satan asked softly to which the other nodded lightly against his chest, having spend most of his energy while crying. "Could we lay down on your bed for a bit, Tantan..? I just need to be held a bit more and the floor is uncomfortable..", the lilanette almost whispered. "Of course", Satan answered before picking up the smaller into his arms and walking over to his bed. Carefully he laid down with the tired exchange student which cuddled up closer to him. After a few minutes of silence while Icarus got his sniffles under control satan couldnt contain his curiosity in check and questioned quietly "That was your mother correctly? Why was she telling you that she is proud of you your biggest wish..?" Back in his casual clothes the smaller wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie "Because she abandoned me in a group home and after i came back to her she only complained about everything that was connected to me. She always compaired me to my older siblings and how amazing they are doing while i just waste my life away. She neglected me and my mental health until i tried to end myself..", Icarus explained sniffing again and wiping a new tear away. "And..And when I told her that I'm trans she told me its just penis envy and I'm just confused because of the media. She never accepted me as Icarus.." Another quiet sob escaped Icarus. Satan hugged him tighter. "Im sorry that she did that and thank you for telling me, Icarus..", Satan spoke continuing to hold the other as long as he needed silently boiling on the inside.

She should hope that she never crosses mine or my brothers path..otherwise she will see how much pain Icarus had too feel thanks to her own body...

3 notes · View notes

kincaidkarstensen85 · 2 months

Text

Basic Solutions Concerning Cats That Are Easy To Follow

Only various other feline owners know exactly how weird and fantastic it can be to have a pet like a cat. Pet cats can offer distinct challenges as well as unique benefits. As their owner, you have unique obligations to your pet cat, although they seem as if they can get on without you. Right here are some concepts for looking after them. Protecting your cat from household chemicals is something that you may currently know, however did you recognize that securing them from medications is simply as essential? Common nonprescription medicines such as ibuprofen can be poisonous to your cat, even in little doses. Maintain your drug securely out of the reach of your cat. Make your own encased can from a large lug box with a cover. Use a coffee can cover as a pattern to reduce a door in one side of the tote. Place the coffee can cover relatively high up on the side of the lug. Trace around it with a permanent pen. Eliminate the circle with tin snips or a box cutter. Add litter. Place on the lid. Feed your feline a proper diet regimen. Cats are carnivores and have specific nutritional needs. Feed them high quality feline food that has been accepted by AAFCO or the Association of American Feed Control Officials. If you desire to make your cat's food yourself, ensure you speak to a veterinarian about necessary supplements or details dishes that your cat requires to consume. Prevent the opportunity that your male cat will certainly develop crystals in his system that will certainly come out in his urine by feeding a top quality diet. Passing crystals is extremely uncomfortable for your feline, as well as the veterinarian's expense will certainly be painful for you. Pick a feline food reduced in magnesium. Check out the tags. Fish-based foods usually contain more magnesium than poultry-based foods. Pet cats like to chase after birds and also catch them. This helps felines to develop as well as deliver crucial searching abilities. Yet suppose you have an interior pet cat? You can find feline toys at the family pet store that will help you simulate a bird flying around. Your feline will certainly love it, and like you for it. A pet cat's nails can grow really promptly. They develop their nails by scratching on various surface areas like a scraping post. You can assist prevent your feline ruining your furniture by clipping their nails commonly. This will help to dissuade your feline from damaging at various things around your home. When bringing a new kittycat house, take it slow. It is appealing for children to wish to have fun with the new enhancement to your house promptly. The young cat will likely be frightened. Give the feline time to accustom itself to your home and also to get comfortable with everyone. If you notice that your feline is not making use of the can as high as typical, you need to go as well as take them to a veterinarian immediately. There are several illness that can cause the cat to stop using package. These problems include bladder issues, constipation as well as diarrhea. Your feline needs to like their carrier. Cats do not respond similarly canines do to penalty. They are better with motivation. how do cats show affection Area a blanket or favored toy inside the service provider to make your pet cat a lot more accustomed to the service provider. The pet cat will certainly enter it on its own. Once the pet cat is comfy with the service provider, you can transport it easily. If you think your feline has actually splashed in your home but can not find the location, there is hope. Investing in an inexpensive black light can conserve you from needing to tear up your rugs. Your cats pee will radiance under the black light, revealing you precisely where to clean up. If your pet cat is attacked by an additional feline, try to get him to the vet within 1 day. The veterinarian can put him on antibiotics that will secure him from infection setup in, as well as triggering major health issue. Feline bites can trap bacteria under your pet cat's skin, developing an abscess, or other hazardous infection that can cost you thousands of bucks to deal with later. If you're tempted to load up on litter to cut down on cleansings, assume again. Some individuals think that the more feline clutter they utilize, the longer they can go in between emptying the clutter box. In fact, this is a waste of your clutter! Numerous felines refuse to make use of a can with greater than 2 inches of clutter under. Some prefer to dig to the base of the box prior to doing their service. Search for possible problems when getting a new pet cat. Their eyes ought to be clear, nose clear too, and also the ears without any type of type of discharge. The cat ought to have a shiny layer as well as the mouth and also periodontals need to be without sores. Taking on an undesirable pet cat can be expensive. Taking treatment of felines can be an interesting pasttime. The suggestions in this short article can help make things less complicated for you. It is not constantly simple being a feline owner, but if you resemble most cat owners you would not have it differently. Try the details in this post and see exactly how well you perform with your pet cat.

#how do cats show affection #do cats show affection

1 note · View note

mania-sama · 3 months

Text

rule #25 - still

Rule #25 - Still - Fish in a Birdcage

Bungou Stray Dogs Pairing - Akutagawa Ryuunosuke & Nakajima Atsushi Additional Characters - Fukuchi Ouchi, Nakahara Chuuya Tags - human hunting, background character death, past character death, inspired by the most dangerous game (actually it's the poptropica version but shhh), bittersweet ending, angst, wilderness survival, ghosts, no ability users au Summary - Atsushi is being hunted in the wilderness by a world-renowned hunter hell-bent on putting Atsushi's stuffed corpse in a display case to show his talents in hunting every type of animal in the world, including humans. During the chase, Atsushi falls into a hidden pit and meets a person already living there. Akutagawa is willing to extend his help, with only one price to pay: He must not only escape, but kill Fukuchi. Word Count - 3,881 Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own Whumptober 2023 - Day 24: Hunted Down | Too Exhausted to Keep Running See my full Whumptober 2023 Challenge on Tumblr or Ao3

Atsushi doesn’t know how long he’s been running. The forest blurs around him in a mellow shade of green and brown. He can barely breathe now. All of his breaths come in the form of short, heaving gasps that are surely alerting them of his location more than his heavy footfalls are. Leaves, dirt, and mud puddles crunch and splash underneath his shoes, causing him to nearly slip and fall on more than one occasion.

Still, he does not stop running.

His legs burn as though he’s pacing through fire. The air crystallizes each of his panting breaths, the small clouds stinging his eyes more than the sweat coming from his face and hair does. He doesn’t know how much further he can take this. The sun slowly rises from the horizon, effectively blinding him when he accidentally looks into it.

The tip of his shoe catches on the top of a thick, protruding root during his momentary vision loss. That’s all it takes for him to lose his momentum. He stumbles, unable to catch himself, and falls to the ground. His hands attempt to keep him upright so he can immediately launch back into another run, but his breath escapes him. His calves seize into tight cramps, and his sides and chest burst into sharp, smarting pain. Atsushi heaves on the ground, barely suppressing the vomit pumping up his throat.

He’s not getting up from this. He can’t. He knows that if he doesn’t keep moving, he’ll catch up to him in no time. Then, he’ll be done for. Nakajima Atsushi will just be a trophy in a glass cage, a display animal to show for a thrilling, exotic hunt. Except, this hunt is anything but thrilling. All he did was escape a mansion and run like wolves were snapping at his feet for an hour, then collapse into a pathetic pile on the ground, thwarted by a fucking tree root.

Through his cramps, he forces his body to inch forward. It takes every ounce of remaining adrenaline and energy to drag his useless calves and thighs behind him as his hands pull him forward. He winds around the thick ginkgo biloba tree closest to him. His fingernails dig into the soft, cold dirt and various roots he can grab hold of to support his weight. He uses what he can of his knees, and he crawls.

Then, over the loud sound of his own desperate, pained gasps, Atsushi hears the sound of thundering footsteps.

He knows he hasn’t dragged himself far enough from the main to put a meaningful distance between him and the hunter. Even if he had, the leaves and dirt he’s disturbed in the process would bring them right to his location anyway. The only option from here is to climb the nearest tree and pray that the hunter can’t see him through the ticket of branches and orange leaves. Atsushi looks at the ginkgo bilobas around him, and reality crushes the little bit of hope that dared rise in his chest. He wouldn’t be able to haul himself up a tree; crawling is impossible enough as it is.

The footsteps get louder with each second. The hunter looms closer, and Atsushi knows he will be found sooner or later. He can’t go up, and crawling has brought him only a few paces into the forest. While his heart still pumps adrenaline through his body, it does little to truly help him. He lays on the ground with the knowledge that he will die.

The autumn air suddenly cuts through his heated skin, settling down onto his quivering body in stinging waves and cooling the sweat on his scalp. An orange leaf falls in front of him. It makes a twirling flight from Atsushi’s heavy breaths pushing it forward. It lands in a small, orange and yellow pile a few feet in front of him.

Atsushi doesn’t want to die.

He digs his fingers back into the cold ground and grits his teeth. His legs are still unusable and tight, and his torso remains cramped, but he pulls himself forward anyway. It’s all he has. He won’t go down without having tried everything in his power to escape. Even if he knows it’s all futile.

When he’s almost upon the pile, the footsteps have gotten impossibly close. It will be any second now that the man will see his mussed tracks, and he will find him crawling to freedom. He will shoot Atsushi in the legs to preserve the integrity and composition of his upper body, namely his head and chest. The backs of his calves and thighs won’t be seen in the display case, anyway.

He gets to the little fallen leaf, and he realizes with a start that the leaves are falling again. The forest floor collapses, and he falls, too.

Atsushi hits a hard surface with exploding pain. He managed to keep his face from smashing into the ground, but the rest of his body wasn’t so lucky. The wind is completely knocked out of him, and it takes more than a few seconds of heaving to get oxygen circulating normally through his lungs. With what little vitality he has left, he flips himself over to be on his back rather than his stomach. The new position will allow him to survey his new location, as well as its relative safety from the hunter.

If it's safe at all.

Atsushi first finds the trap door in the ‘ceiling’ above him. It’s closed and secure, though Atsushi is sure he fell through the top. Otherwise, there’s no explanation for how he got down here. He couldn’t have just evaporated through as though he was a liquid. He can still acutely feel every bit of pain plaguing his exhausted body, too, so he’s ninety-nine percent sure he hasn’t died and turned into a ghost either.

From what he can see, the walls, ceiling, and ground consist completely of compacted dirt, hanging roots, and strips of flat stone every now and then. He cranes his neck and spots the edge of what appears to be a chair and table.

“Who are you?”

Atsushi jumps hard enough to put him into an upright position. He twists his torso, knowing that the voice came from somewhere behind him. His heart pounds as he meets the gaze of a tall man dressed in a long, black trench coat with a sort of white frill spilling out over the collar. His hair is black save for the white tips, and his gray eyes are narrow and reproachful.

Maybe Atsushi didn’t escape his death after all. He just ran from one trap to another, like a scared mouse in a maze that has no cheese as the price.

After several beats of tense silence in which Atsushi is almost certain that the other man can hear the wild, thundering beat of his heart, the stranger shakes his head and curls his lips. “Well?” He prompts, his shoulders shrugging. “Are you deaf or just stupid?”

“Who are you? ” Atsushi blurts, mind racing a mile a minute. Behind the stranger is a tunnel lit by burning candles, and to the right is a ladder leading down to, presumably, another tunnel. Atsushi wonders if instead of turning into liquid or a ghost, he’s somehow turned into an ant and has started to see other ants as humans.

It’s not out of the realm of possibility considering everything he’s experienced these past several days. Honestly, being hunted alive is a harder reality to come to terms with than living as an ant for the rest of his life.

The stranger regards him with a cold, slightly disgusted gaze. “Stupid. How have you survived this long?”

“What?”

“Oh my God,” he mutters. The man starts towards Atsushi, stopping only when he’s within touching distance. He’s wearing dress shoes, Atsushi notes. The rest of his outfit seems tattered and worn, and there’s a torn whole going straight through where his spleen should be. “I will repeat myself only once: Who are you? You cannot just repeat what I just said back to me.”

The flaming light flickers, casting the tunnel in an array of intricate and moving shadows. At the sight of this, Atsushi’s brain finally catches up to him. “Atsushi,” he says. “Is this your hideout?”

“Atsushi,” the stranger repeats, then coughs into the crook of his arm. His name rolls oddly off of his tongue like he isn’t accustomed to saying people’s names. In fact, his voice sounds hoarse, perhaps out of his disuse.

“You aren’t going to kill me, are you?” Atsushi asks. Skin crinkles where the man’s eyebrows should be, and he crouches down to get a hold of Atsushi’s shoulder. His hands are cold to the touch, and his fingers press painfully through his shirt and into his skin.

“I’m beginning to think you’re mentally deficient. Stop squirming,” he demands, and Atsushi stills in his grip. “I’m trying to help your miserable ass.”

“I’m being hunted,” he blurts again because his mouth keeps moving without consulting his thoughts first.

The stranger stares at him, deadpan, as he drops Atsushi down into the chair. The wooden table in front of them is surprisingly clean, though the only two things residing on top of it are a bowl of some sort of berry and a map. The bowl emits a small shadow due to the burning torch hanging directly above the center of the table. The map is torn at the edges and aged significantly, as well as much dirtier than both the bowl, table, and chair. It’s not a world map or even one of Japan; it only shows one forest, and Atsushi has one guess as to which forest that is.

“Fukuchi,” the man says. “It’s time that mutt gets put down.”

“You’ll help me escape him?”

“No.” His eyes are cold and hard, but Atsushi is starting to get the feeling that it’s just the way he is. Being alone for so long, hiding from one man, must have worn down his emotions and amplified his resentment. “You’re going to kill him, and I will provide my assistance.”

Atsushi gives his best attempt at a smile. The pounding of his heart has settled into a more steady rhythm, though the deep-set cramps in his legs have yet to subside. “Sounds like helping to me.”

“It’s not,” the man insists. His lips are pulled into a frown, and Atsushi can’t help but find it a little funny. “I could send you back up there. To die,” he clarifies.

Deciding not to test his luck with someone he only just met, Atsushi moves topics. “I told you my name. What’s yours?”

The stranger hesitates. His slate gray eyes flicker from Atsushi to the trapdoor, then to Atsushi again. He hides his internal conflict well, however. The only reason Atsushi can tell that he’s struggling to answer is from that slight focus change alone. “Akutagawa,” he finally settles on. His voice wavers at the beginning, and he ends it with a fit of painful-sounding coughs.

“Akutagawa,” Atsushi repeats, just as Akutagawa had with his name before. It sounds better on his tongue than Atsushi had on the other. “How long have you been hiding here?”

“You’re irritating. Fewer questions, more planning. You need to kill him, and I want you out of here before the sun can rise twice.” Akutagawa tactfully avoids answering Atsushi’s pointed question. “Analyze that map.”

Atsushi feels his sliver of amusement shatter and any snide comments fall from his lips. He notices, for the first time, the paleness of Akutagawa’s skin. He almost seems translucent, and the light from the torches doesn’t quite bounce off of him like it does on Atsushi and the walls. His hair is slightly matted, and the long strands hanging around his face are straggly and greasy.

His curtness is not uncalled for. Akutagawa has been down here for an extensive period of time, longer than he wants to consciously admit to.

Fukuchi may have been hunting Atsushi, but he had hunted Akutagawa first.

The map in front of him has lines and circles drawn in three different inks. The red ink must symbolize the tunnels, for they are thick and snake around to a circled area. The blue ink must be the main path that Atsushi had been running on before falling. It adds up with his memory, as the red ink and the blue ink meet closely, and a purple mark circles what he assumes is the trapdoor he fell through. The purple ink is only in circles. It indicates where important places are on the map, of which there are four.

Freezing hands coated with some sort of red liquid press against his face without warning, and Atsushi almost falls out of the chair in a fit of flight or flight. Akutagawa huffs irritably at him and pinches his chin to hold him still. “This is to mask your scent. Fukuchi has dogs and their senses are keen. Unless you want to be mauled alive, stay still and keep reading that map.”

Atsushi resists the urge to say something about how cold his hands are, that the bags under his eyes are concerning, or that he shouldn’t take such a harsh tone all the time. Being hunted alive and hiding underground for such a long time has taken its rightful toll on the young man. In lieu of speaking, he returns to the map before him.

The four circled places include the trapdoor, the Fukuchi mansion, a sawmill shack, and a radio tower. The radio station is the furthest out, nearing the edge of the map, while the mansion rests on the opposite side. The tunnels, however, lead straight to the sawmill shack. It would take a decent amount of time to get there, perhaps twenty to thirty minutes. However, Akutagawa has survived down in the tunnels for a while. They have plenty of time to devise their plan and walk back and forth from the sawmill to their current location, the trapdoor.

Akutagawa doesn’t linger a second over him when he’s finished. He wipes the remaining berry juice — as Atsushi astutely figured out when he saw the man reach into the bowl, crush the berries, and come back with red-stained hands — on his own person. “I have a plan,” he says without delay. “You need to know what this forest looks like in detail, every inch of what this map can offer. Mother nature shows mercy to no one. You can kill Fukuchi, but she may yet kill you,” Akutagawa warns, motioning at the map.

His voice is edged with seriousness and harshness that can only come from experience. Atsushi doesn’t dare to question it. Instead, he asks:

“Okay. Tell me the plan.”

—

Atsushi returns to the tunnels slowly. He drops down from the entrance of the sawmill shack, doused in a spray of blood and flesh. Akutagawa warned him the plan would result this way; the only way to kill Fukuchi would be through a powered sawmill, and it would tear him open. His intestines would seep from his body, and bits of him would hit Atsushi.

That doesn’t mean he had been fully, completely mentally prepared for the murder he would commit. He closed his eyes to prevent himself from having to see the sawmill open him up, but his ears still worked fine, and so did his sense of touch. Some of the blood even dripped into his mouth and dotted his eyelids. Certainly enough soaked his hair.

The tunnels are quiet as he walks through. His shoes leave bloody footprints until they are completely wiped off by the compacted dirt. His stomach aches with hunger, though he doesn’t have much of an appetite. The screams of Fukuchi as he was ripped apart will be enough to prevent him from willfully eating for days on end. Atsushi has seen horrifying things. He was an orphan tortured by his director when he was little, and he’d seen the mutilated body of his pilot from the plane crash that landed him in the situation in the first place. The horrors of life and death have not escaped him.

Perhaps it’s the fact that Atsushi caused the gruesome death. He’d never been a murderer, and he’d never killed out of self-defense, either. He can’t help but wonder if there was a way around this, a way to keep Fukuchi alive and simply hand him over to the police. Atsushi knows what Fukuchi did to him — pretended to offer him a place to stay after the plane crash, admitted to firing down the plane, then set him loose on a wild human hunt so he could have the thrill, and then put Atsushi’s corpse in a display case like a normal game animal.

He knows all of this. But did he deserve the mutilation, the utter torment of being ripped apart by a sawmill? Did he deserve to die at Atsushi’s hands?

The walk back to the trapdoor is supposed to take twenty to thirty minutes, but Atsushi thinks it takes him forty.

When he arrives, the area is empty. “Akutagawa!” Atsushi calls, but nobody replies back. He tries a few more times, but Akutagawa does not respond to any of them. A sinking feeling of dread settles as a heavyweight in Atsushi’s stomach. He doesn’t know why Akutagawa’s not responding, but he has an inkling that he doesn’t want to be true.

Throughout the planning, Akutagawa took no active role in helping Atsushi kill Fukuchi. The only thing he did was provide him with already assembled materials and the exact directions of where, and how, he would lead Fukuchi straight into the sawmill. It was extensive, somehow distracted four dogs, and definitely not something Atsushi could come up with before inevitably starving to death in the tunnels. Or being eaten alive by the various rodents and insects that crawl through the dirt, occasionally making their presence known by peaking their heads out or flying straight at Atsushi’s head unprovoked.

The second part of the plan was where Atsushi’s stomach began to turn, and despite his best attempts, he could never get a straight answer from Akutagawa. After Fukuchi is killed, Atsushi is meant to return back the trapdoor and go down into the room below, take the radio, and run as fast as he can to the radio tower. No stops, no looking back, and certainly no being killed by the wilderness in the process. Akutagawa informed him of all the bear, fox, and wolf dens in the area.

“If you hear anything large, climb a tree and make as little noise as possible,” Akutagawa said.

“Won’t you be coming with me?” Atsushi tried.

“Reach the radio tower and use the radio to call for help. Write S.O.S. in rocks if you can. Do anything to get attention.”

“Why are you staying here?”

“Let me do my job, and you do yours.”

Atsushi tries Akutagawa’s name one last time. When he receives silence, he decides he shouldn’t waste any more daylight. He descends the wooden ladder and enters the underground room that he had been forbidden to access until this very moment. The second stage of the plan.

What he finds is a room with several alcoves dipping into the dirt walls. Cans of open, empty food are in one alcove that has empty shelves that Atsushi assumes had once held perishable foods like fruit and bread. Another wall is lined with drained bottles of water. A small alcove was carved specifically to hold a pillow and blankets. Where this all came from, Atsushi doesn’t know. However, he wasn’t here at the time that this place was made. Fukuchi may have altered his rules since Akutagawa played the game.

At the opposite end of the room sits a small radio and a notebook. Both are dirty and have collected an insurmountable amount of dust. Atsushi hesitantly makes his way over to it. Gently, he picks up the notebook first. He knows what this is before he opens it up to see who it belongs to. He doesn’t have to have it spelled out for him on the first page.

This book belongs to:

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Phone Number:

000-000-0000

Atsushi closes the notebook as carefully as he can. The old pages crinkle with his every moment. He tucks it under his arm and picks up the radio. It’s significantly heavier than the notebook, and he’s concerned that the radio won’t work, but when he turns a knob, it produces a small sound of static. He breathes a sigh of relief, but he cannot bring himself to be happy at his success.

After all, Akutagawa will never be able to celebrate this victory with him.

He should’ve known. Akutagawa was pale, paler than even living underground can make a person. Atsushi had thought previously that the translucent quality of his skin was due to that paleness, but now he knows better. His body couldn’t produce a single shadow, as though he didn’t even exist. Akutagawa’s hesitance to answer any of his questions at all, and his insistence that Atsushi had to be the one to kill Fukuchi.

When Atsushi reaches the radio tower, he searches for nearby lines while building an S.O.S. sign with rocks. Just like Akutagawa told him to do. And when his rescue helicopter arrives hours later, he dons the headset and asks the pilot if he knows of a man named Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

The man looks at him, astonished. He has one blue eye and one brown eye, and his hair is a vibrant orange. “Yeah, I knew him. He went missing three years ago after a boating accident in this same area. Did you find him? Was he alive?”

“No,” Atsushi says, his voice thick. His throat clogs, and he struggles to get his next words out. “I couldn’t find his body, only a record of his passing. I’m sorry.”

The pilot focuses back on the air and console. He sighs heavily. “I hope he’s resting in peace, wherever that may be.”

Atsushi doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Akutagawa didn’t even get that small mercy.

—

I won’t live much longer.

I don’t know if this fact hurts me or not. I’ve always known I would live a short life, but I always thought my lung disease would kill me, or at least be murdered in a turf war. Starvation wasn’t how I hoped I would see my end.

At the very least, Fukuchi will not get me. I will not die a trophy. He did not kill me.

I am not as comforted by the notion as I hoped.

I won’t be the last one here. Not until Fukuchi is dead. There will be others.

I vow to haunt these tunnels until he is killed. Only then will I rest in peace.

If anyone reads this notebook, know that I am not dead. I am not dead until Fukuchi has been killed by his own traps. And tell Gin that I love her. And tell Dazai that I’m sorry. And tell Chuuya

I am so hungry.

I don't want to die.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd atsushi #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #ryuunosuke akutagawa #atsushi nakajima #nakajima atsushi #bsd fukuchi #fukuchi ouchi #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ai less whumptober #whumptober fic #whumptober #whumptober2023

1 note · View note

wweallresultspage · 2 years

Text

NXT Recap:

• Ilja Dragunov kicks off the show and gets "Welcome Back" chants.

He says the last time he was in NXT he conquered an unbeatable machine to become a champion.

He says he succeeded with the heart of a gladiator and he became a Tsar because pain has always been his best friend.

He says he returned to repeat history by beating another unbeatable machine and achieve his destiny to claim gold.

JD McDonagh comes out. He says that it's his time and tells Dragunov to stay on the sidelines or he will end his career.

Bron Breakker heads to the ring. He says he was wondering when Dragunov would show up and calls him a warrior.

JD reminds Breakker that he’s the number one contender.

JD says he has a good idea. Crowd chants “Triple Threat". JD says that's a stupid idea.

JD says Breakker & Dragunov should face each other so JD can pick up the scraps. Breakker says he has another idea.

Breakker says that McDonagh has a 33.3% chance of winning before throwing out the challenge for a Triple Threat Match at Halloween Havoc.

• Non-title Match: Mandy Rose def. Fallon Henley (5:40).

Grade: C

Post-match, Rose addresses Alba Fyre and talks about how she conquered two continents while Fyre was busy throwing another log on the fire.

Fyre may keep the fire going but she’s looking at the woman that starts them. Fyre then appears on the Titan Tron.

Fyre says she doesn’t do verbal warnings and she’s more of a visual warning and then lights the words "#AND NEW" on the ground with fire.

• We get a video of Apollo Crews writing in his journal.

Crews says everything is still a haze but one image sticks out crystal clear and that’s Waller mocking his eye injury.

Crews will see Waller on the other side and tells Waller to keep an eye out because he’s not done with Waller yet, bitch.

• Backstage, Xyon Quinn introduces himself to Ilja Dragunov as The X-Factor of NXT.

Quinn says in the Book of Xyon, Dragunov couldn’t even carry all the weight of being a champion.

Dragunov has heard a lot about Quinn…he likes to look at himself, unlimited potential but the talk of a mental moron.

Dragunov says let’s see who’s right about being a champion.

• North American Title Ladder Match Qualifier: Wes Lee def. Tony D’Angelo via referee stoppage (8:45).

Grade: D

It looks like Tony D legitimately hurt his knee when Lee tripped him into the turnbuckles.

• We get a “Day In The Life Of” video on Pretty Deadly. They go on about how they have the perfect lives in their own little perfect utopia.

They make sure they look absolutely ravishing every morning, they brush each other’s magnificent hair, stop for a cup of tea, then hit the gym.

When they work out, they don’t lift heavy weights because they’re not animals.

Once training is done, they bask in each other’s wonderfulness, with 3-4 hours of reflecting on how they’re the greatest tag team in history and the two best looking creatures on earth.

• Sol Ruca def. Amari Miller (4:48).

Grade: F

Post-match, Ruca offers her hand to help Miller up and they hug.

• Joe Gacy def. Cameron Grimes with the help of Rip Fowler & Jagger Reid (3:17).

Grade: D

• Backstage, Grayson Waller reveals that Cora Jade & Roxanne Perez will be the special guests for "The Grayson Waller Effect" next week.

Waller says he will hire extra security to be safe from Apollo Crews.

• Nikkita Lyons def. Kayden Carter (4:54).

Grade: C+

• Andre Chase reveals that he will face Von Wagner in a North American Championship Qualifier Match next week.

A guy named Dave asks how confident Chase is when he’s never beat Wagner before.

Chase is angry now. He asks Dave who the fuck he’s beaten before, and how many towns has he made?

Chase says now this was a teachable moment, and the crowd goes wild with him.

• We get footage of Nathan Frazer on the soccer field.

He says he knows Axiom will pull out moves we’ve never seen next week as they finish the series, but so will Frazer.

He says this is the biggest match of their careers, and he’s going to empty the playbook because it’s win or go home.

• Ilja Dragunov def. Xyon Quinn (4:55).

Grade: C+

• We get a video of Wendy Choo & Lash Legend. Choo says Legend’s voice is like nails on a chalk board.

Lash says she doesn’t care if you’re Choo, Doja Cat, Beyonce or Lizzo, it doesn’t matter – move, buh-bye.

Choo says after next week when she’s done with Lash we will hear this… silence.

Lash says someone better get Choo’s bed, pillow and night light ready because she will put her to bed.

• Brutus Creed def. Damon Kemp via DQ, after Kemp hits him with a chair (3:05).

Grade: B-

Post-match, Kemp unloads on Brutus with more chair shots and tells Julius Creed to come get some.

• Backstage, Sanga is looking down. Quincy Elliott asks him what’s wrong.

Quincy says there’s plenty of Quincy to go around so keep your head up.

Sanga says he gives a lot of advice but sometimes he needs advice himself. Sanga thanks Quincy.

Xyon Quinn comes walking by and Quincy stops him. Quincy says he’s just not seeing the X-factor Quinn is always talking about.

• Backstage, Nikkita Lyons & Zoey Stark challange for the NXT Women’s Tag Team Championship.

Toxic Attraction interrupt and say they are not ready for the Toxic Tag Team Titles yet.

The two sides have words and Toxic Attraction point out how they are outnumbered.

A line of fire suddenly appears between them and Alba Fyre appears. Toxic Attraction leave in their SUV.

• Pub Rules Match: Brooks Jensen & Josh Briggs def. Gallus (11:35)

Grade: B+

Post-match, Gallus gets up and they want to fight but security holds them back.

Gallus starts fighting the security off until several police officers come from behind.

Gallus is placed in handcuffs and escorted out of the building.

(Match Grade is according to Bleacher Report)

1 note · View note

velvetcloxds · 2 years

Text

Hiii loves, so, this is my first writing challenge and since I've been really enjoying writing song fics, I thought it might be fun to do a song fic challenge with some of my favourite comfort songs, was absolutely terrified to post this because I wasn't sure if people would participate, but if you do, I hope you have fun <33

~RULES:

There is no deadline for this writing challenge, I know that I can't hold to a deadline when it comes to writing, so I don't expect you to either- as long as you have fun when you write it, write it whenever.

Please send me an ask saying which character you want to write for as well as the song you'd like to use.

There can be only two people per song and you can write for more than one song. I’ll cross out a prompt when it’s been claimed by two people.

Fandoms; Harry Potter, Teen Wolf, Marvel, Twilight, Bridgerton, Outerbanks, The Umbrella Academy, The Originals, The Vampire Diaries, Gilmore Girls, Shadow and Bone, Peaky Blinders, and The 100

Please do not submit any smut, smut concepts, smut tropes.

Preferably male!character x fem!reader or male!character x nopronouns!reader

____________________________________________

Masterlist | Fic rec list | Playlist

~FLUFF:

Always- Isak Danielson

I melt with you- Modern English

All those pretty lights- Andrew Belle

Apocalypse- Cigarettes after sex

@/v1oletvenus - sirius black x reader

@illicitvalentine - lily evans x reader

Youth- Troye Sivan

Kiss me- Sixpence none the richer

@wrathspoet - james potter x reader

Heart's content- Brandi Carlile

Will you still love me tomorrow- The Shirelles

@/hairdye-enthusiast - tommy shelby x reader

Nothing's gonna stop us no- Starship

I'll be- Jacob Noah

It's not living if it's not with you- The 1975

@/ughgclden - remus lupin x reader

Perfect- Fairground Attraction

The closest thing to crazy- Katie Melua

All my love- George Ezra

I choose you- Sara Bareilles

~ANGST:

The Last Time- Taylor Swift

@/sarahisslytherin- diego hagrieves x reader

@/mirclealignr - remus lupin x reader

Two Ghosts- Harry Styles

@/sheraayasher - steve rogers x reader

@messers-moony-lupin - remus lupin x reader

Like a river runs- Bleachers

Saturn- Sleeping at last, Tim Fain

@beelovespizza - jess mariano x reader

@mystics-writings- bellamy blake x reader

7 Minutes- Dean Lewis

Forever- Lewis Capaldi

@/thesecretwriter - loki x reader

All I ask- Adele

@/yoooespinosa - regulus black x reader

@ms-heartbreak-queen - regulus black x reader

Empty space- James Arthur

@/natashxromanovf - stiles stilinski x reader

Lost without you- Freya Ridings

Ghost- Banners

Cry over me- Meat Loaf

Save tonight- Eagle-eye cherry

Heal- Tom Odell

I should go- Levi Kreis

Stay- Hurts

~MISC:

Like real people do- Hozier

@/cupids-crystals - remus lupin x reader

@/sarahisslytherin- regulus black x reader

I don't wanna dance- COIN

Sex- Eden

Crimson and clover- Tommy James & The Shondells

80' Flims - Jon Bellion

Stay- Maurice Williams & The Zodiacs

Alone- Heart

Lips of an angel- Hinder

Craving- James Bay

Right girl- The Maine

Heat Waves- Glass Animals

Kiss goodnight- I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Dirty little secret- The all American rejects

@/saintlike78 - charlie swan x reader

Bad decisions- The strokes

Meet me at our spot- Willow, The anxiety, Tyler Cole

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

no pressure tags: @/cupids-crystals @/mirclealignr @/sarahisslytherin @/oliverwoodmarrymepls @spxllcxstxr @/moonlitmeeks @/yoooespinosa @/scandalous-chaos @canibeoneofthepogues @/v1oletvenus @natashxromanovf @pad-foots @whiskeypowder @fantqsha @lonelyhe4rts @mendesxruel @mellifluousart @messers-moony @pepper-up-potion @peppers-analytics @rons-whorerp @sereinegemini @/sheraayasher @selenes-sun @leahsficemporium @leydileyla @heloisedaphnebrightmore @henqtic @thesecretwriter @beloved-bucky @queen-asteria04 @iliveiloveiwrite @dracossweetprincess @marauders-lupin @proserpina-magnus @weasel-b33 @isaacmflahey @/saintlike78 @/fairydxll @destourtereaux @songofpolaris @ladyvesuvia +literally anyone who would like to participate

#monique's 600 followers a day with your lover song fic challenge

112 notes · View notes

writersrealmbts · 3 years

Text

Clearwater Springs: Part 9

SDescription: ot7 x reader, reader’s choice, fairy/supernatural/soulmate au. The choices you make influence the story! In this world, war-torn and ragged, you’ve been offered a home and a job working as a librarian. Will you meet your soulmates? Will you ever find the shelves behind the piles of books? Who knows.

Warnings: idk

Posted: 08/18/2021

Tags: ot7 x reader, supernatural bts, soulmate au

3,463 words

A/N: Okay! Remember, two free-write and one survey chapter, which means the next survey chapter will be chapter 11 (technically they all are at this point), which means that the survey at the bottom of this post will be on part 10 as well. Sorry for the wait.

Previous ~ Next

You were in a warm cocoon, and you weren’t about to disturb it.

Yoongi was in cat form again, stretched out against your back, purring now and then in his sleep.

Namjoon was snoring, but you didn’t care because he was warm and his heartbeat was strong, and he was well-built. Strong enough to make you feel safe, soft enough to keep you comfortable. He was your haltija.

You lay in a comfortable doze for a while, smiling when Yoongi moved so you could pet him and he fell asleep again.

But then someone was sneaking in and over, fluttering above the ground and peering at you.

You yawned a bit, then turned to reach out both hands to him.

Jimin smiled and took your hands, gently pulling you from between the other two and into the air.

You grinned as he set you down on the floor by the bed, admiring his wings. His feathers looked shinier already, and the colors of his feathers seemed more vibrant. Happiness made such a difference in fairies.

Jimin tugged your hand gently, pulling you out of the room and down to Jin’s room.

The door swung open silently, revealing the most adorable sight of Jin and Jungkook cuddling. Jungkook’s arms wrapped around Jin, and head on Jin’s shoulder but still tucked close to Jin’s neck. Both of them looked so peaceful.

Jimin shared your smile, then tugged your hand again as he carefully closed the door.

Taehyung was being bearhugged from behind by Hoseok, drowsily watching some cartoon show that had the volume down as low as possible without muting it.

Hoseok murmured now and then, and pressed airy little kisses just barely into Taehyung’s hair--probably completely unfelt by the dryad. But he glanced over and smiled contentedly at you before whispering something that got a sleepy smile out of his companion.

You tugged on Jimin’s hand this time, drawing him into the kitchen. “Help me make them breakfast?”

He nodded.

You weren’t an exceptional cook, but you could make basic foods, and the boys didn’t seem to mind basic foods. “Did you sleep well, ma mignonne?”

He nodded emphatically. “Yesterday was tiring.”

Yoongi stalked in, scowling tiredly at you. “You left.”

“Sorry, mon chat minou,” You apologized, leaning over to peck his lips.

His eyes widened.

Jimin huffed, latching onto you again.

You leaned back into his arms and tilted your head back for a kiss.

He hesitated, but did kiss you—softly. As though you were a bubble that would pop at any moment. His lips soft against yours.

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips, keenly away of two more sets of eyes on the three of you.

Hoseok, probably already knowing the outcome, came over and claimed his kiss. “Morning, aluemdaun.”

You hummed happily at his casual compliment, curling your fingers around the neckline of his shirt. “Darling.”

Taehyung’s eyes were wide, and he slowly came forward.

You watched him with a soft smile. “Good morning, Taehyung. Did you sleep well?”

Taehyung nodded slowly.

You kissed his cheek, brushing over the spot where you kissed him with your thumb as you looked over his face. “Good.”

“So...does everyone know...about….” He gestured vaguely to your arm.

You nodded, smiling a little more. “Everyone knows. You can ask them anything about being soulmates that you want. You can touch them, hug them, kiss them, and they’ll have no room to complain because they’re stuck with all of us for the rest of our lives—provided all goes well.”

Taehyung started to get hints of excitement in his eyes. “Hugs?”

“As many as you like. Jimin gives especially good hugs.” You nodded toward the fairy, who was still cooking under your instructions.

Yoongi took Taehyung’s hand. “After we’re out of their way so they can make breakfast.”

Taehyung didn’t seem to accept that, turning and hugging onto Yoongi despite the werecat’s protests—loud as they were.

But Yoongi waddled himself and Taehyung out of the kitchen, and out of your way. And Taehyung forced his hugs on the werecat without avail.

You returned to your fairy, directing his actions with little gestures, happy when the food turned out well—just as Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook joined everyone downstairs.

Jimin greeted them with a chirpy ‘Good Morning!’ while ushering them to the table. “We just finished making breakfast!”

Jungkook looked like he was still half-asleep, movements languid as Jin helped him to a spot at the table.

Yoongi was still trapped by Taehyung. “Stop it. Stop it. Let’s not do this. Stop it.”

Taehyung ignored him, nuzzling the were-cat’s neck until suddenly the were-cat shifted and escaped. Then he pouted, looking hurt and sullen.

Jin chuckled sleepily. “Come here, Taehyungie, we’ll catch him later for you to cuddle. Sit next to hyungie to eat.”

Hoseok easily claimed the seat on the other side of Taehyung. “Yoongi-hyung was probably just hungry, Taehyung. He’s not very forthright, but—” he dropped his glass, eyes glazed and far away. He frowned, hands hovering shakily over his plate.

You glanced at Jin for a moment.

Jin got up and went around to Hoseok’s side.

Hoseok’s gaze cleared slightly, but he looked shaken. “I need my crystal ball. Need to get upstairs.”

“I’ll help you,” Jin whispered softly, helping him up. “Even breaths, Hoseokie. Keep calm.”

Hoseok nodded, leaning into Jin. “Need to look. Need to see.”

You watched them go with a little worry, but you knew Hoseok would be fine as long as Jin was with him.

Today, you had work to do.

After you had made sure that Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin had ingested an adequate amount of food—and helped Yoongi make plates for the two that were absent—you went to your room, silently asking your waters for some good working clothes.

Your waters ignored you and gave you a dress, but at least the dress wouldn’t expose your body every time you moved.

Jimin was waiting with Parsley by the front door. “You’re going to the library, right?”

You smiled and nodded. “I have work to do. Are you coming with me?”

“You can’t go alone,” He said nonchalantly. “Too dangerous. Especially with a dark mage about.”

“True. But I wouldn’t like it if you didn’t want to come with me.”

“I want to,” He answered quickly, looking a little sheepish. “I really like it there. High ceilings. I can fly even though it’s raining.”

You smiled. “Alright, then.”

You peeked into the living room, noticing that Taehyung had ‘captured’ Yoongi again and that both were watching a movie with Jungkook and Namjoon. “I’m off to the library with Jimin. Be back later. Someone check on Jin and Hoseok if they don’t come down in an hour?”

“Mm’kay,” Namjoon answered distractedly, but you saw Yoongi look over at you and nod.

Rain didn’t bother you that much, it was just water after all, but Jimin seemed a little averse to it, so you made sure he had the umbrella. Not that it was much of a rainstorm, the gentle pattering drops far more soothing than harsh. Pleasant and somewhat warm.

There was a truck sitting in front of the library, and Valina was under the overhang of the doors, glaring at another person.

Jimin gently touched your shoulder and took off to watch from a distance, a distance from which he could easily intervene if he needed.

You carried the closed umbrella up to those waiting, wondering what was going on. “Hello Valina, how may I assist you?”

She glanced at you, eyes widening slightly, panicked a little.

“Ah! You must be the librarian, I am Grendel,” The dark mage said, turning toward you and bowing.

You froze, but tried not to display your panic. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

“Yes, well, you see, as well as conducting my own business, I was asked to convey this load of books to this…charming town’s library.” He eyed you. “I had not realized that this library was run by a xana.”

“I had not realized my species could be of any interest to any being other than my own kind,” You answered evenly. “There is a room around the side of the building for after-hours book deliveries and donations, and the sign is right there, as well. I believe that lettering is large enough for any to read.”

“Ah, but I have…certain donations that need special care, and I wished to convey the instructions in person—as I was telling this…fiery, young woman.”

“That’s witch to you! And I told you I could have given her the instructions.” Valina crossed her arms.

“And I told you, there are certain things that only a librarian can understand. This place has special vaults for…dangerous tomes, does it not?” He turned to you.

“We would have to ask the owner of the library,” You answered vaguely. “I have not been informed of any. If you would be so kind as to deliver the rest to the side room, I will call the owner and have him come and talk with you.”

“I was specifically instructed—”

“I understand,” You cut him off. “However, I have no answers as to security for dangerous tomes, and for that, the owner is required. Once he has answers in regards to the safety of such tomes, then we may further discuss the tomes staying here. Until then, please patiently wait in the delivery room around the side of the building. I shall not ask again.”

“But—”

“You have about five seconds before I start singing: can you bare it, mage?” You asked, eyes narrowing in a challenge.

His mouth clamped shut and he bowed stiffly. “As you have asked, so shall I do.”

You nodded firmly and moved to the front doors, waiting until he was pulling the truck to the side of the building before unlocking the front doors and ushering Valina inside.

“Are you crazy? He’s a dark mage!” She hissed the moment the door closed.

“I am…very…aware…of…that…,” You said in between trying not to hyperventilate in the ensuing panic.

Jimin landed and quickly wrapped his arms and wings around you, forcing Valina to back up. “You’re crazy. You’re absolutely crazy.”

You just hugged him back with all of your might. “Need to call Jin.”

“I’ll do that,” Valina said, regarding you and Jimin and just a tiny bit disconcerted.

“It’s a trick, right? He’s just trying to get to you, right?” Jimin asked, sounding panicked.

Parsley twined around your feet, mewling.

“Where’s his pheonix?” You whispered.

You saw Valina look up sharply.

Jimin let go of you and shrunk, darting off to look.

You went to the desk slowly, sitting down and beginning your work. “He stop at your shop first?”

“Not exactly. Had a feeling.” Valina leaned against the counter, frowning. “A faun pointed him out to me, and my brain worked from there. My coven will ward the town. We’ve already been setting up protection wards on people’s houses, so most people should be safe at night. Except your house. But you have a haltija.”

“And a were-cat, and a djinn, dryad, seer, incubus-fairy mix, and a human that I swear has magic in his blood.”

“Mr. Kim definitely has magic in his blood,” Valina said, eyes flashing pink. “Ancient magic, but it is there. His family tree is made of touched and clearsighted.”

“Touched and clearsighted?” You asked.

“Touched people have a sort of intuition, they get a sense for things quickly—especially in regards to the magical. They tend to become fighters, people who protect others from…less-savory magic. Clearsighted folk can see through all magical protection that would confuse other humans. Why do you think he didn’t become a slobbering fool upon seeing you? Yes, he sees you’re hot as hell, but, because he has clearsight, he is able to resist that pull and instead focus on you as a person. Me? I have special charms to resist folk like yourself and stay a decent witch.” She looked you over and quickly looked away. “Though, I think it’s about time I recharge them.”

“I appreciate the effort,” You murmured, thinking about Jin and grateful for the distraction that she had been trying to give you. “There’s still so much I don’t know about the world and about people. I only knew my people.”

“Might help if you came into town more often.”

You looked at her quietly until she met your gaze with a little regret.

“Nevermind, that would be mass chaos and not pleasant for you. Forget I mentioned town. Let me ward it for your protection first.”

“Don’t go to any extra trouble on my account.”

“I won’t. My coven planned on putting up warding to protect from…unwanted behaviors.”

“You’re the police of the town, aren’t you?”

Valina grinned. “Yup! But don’t worry, we have people we answer to as well. Now, if we could get real town status, then we’d probably elect Mr. Kim as mayor—”

“Never gonna happen,” Jin said firmly, walking quickly over to you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, standing up. “I sent him around the side to the drop-off area and Jimin is looking for the Pheonix, but he’s been gone since Valina called you.”

Yoongi shifted and ran out to see if he could track down the fairy.

Hoseok was looking a little…out of breath.

Jungkook seemed to be visually assessing you.

Namjoon was talking to the doorway.

Taehyung was looking around, awestruck. “Hyung…this place is so beautiful….”

Jin kissed your forehead and then glanced at Valina. “Got any extra protection charms?”

She patted her pockets demonstratively. “I was in a bit of a rush, toots. Apologies. Take the Djinn with you, he can use magic to protect you and it’s stronger than even a dark mage’s. He can protect you if he wishes.”

Hoseok gripped Jungkook’s arm. “No.”

Jungkook looked both surprised and hurt. “I can do it, hyung.”

“No, it has to be…” Hoseok looked desperately at him, then at you. “It has to be you. I…can’t tell you why…but I know….”

You could tell it was killing him to say it, tearing him up inside. “Okay. If you say it must be so, then it must be. Jungkook could protect us from here, correct?”

Hoseok considered for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, now please sit down. You look so pale,” You pleaded softly, gently, touching his arm.

He relaxed a bit and pliantly let you guide him to your chair.

“Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon; please look out for Hoseok, I have a feeling he’s going to be having a rough day,” You asked, picking up Parsley and setting her in Hoseok’s lap. “Pet the kitty.”

Hoseok let out a small breath of an amused laugh, then did as told.

Then you and Seokjin went outside to meet the dark mage.

Grendel was waiting, looking patient, casually unloading boxes from the truck, but he quickly set aside the box he was carrying as he noticed your approach.

“This is Mr. Kim, the owner of the library. Mr. Grendel had inquiries about secure vaults for…dangerous tomes.”

Jin nodded. “I am only allowed by the government to approve of certain types of tomes. What is the nature of the tomes?” He pulled out some paperwork.

“One is a necromancers guide made with dragon leather,” Grendel said, looking worried.

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you.

Grendel nodded. “Dark magic that must be locked away and never let out again. And that one…that one should remain off-record if possible.”

Jin was quiet, partially frozen. “Where is that one?”

“Still on the truck. I didn’t want to unload it if it couldn’t stay here.”

Jin nodded slowly. “I know a place where it can go. I’m assuming you don’t want to know it’s final location either.”

“That would be correct.”

“Okay. And the other tomes?”

“A Demon Book, a Crimson portfolio, and the notebook of…Fausto Vilareyo,” Grendel finished, not meeting your gaze.

Your heart seemed to stop.

Jin was looking to you. “Fausto Vilareyo?”

“The first dark mage,” You answered, trembling.

Jin nodded slowly. “All of these fall within what I am able to take in. I will care for the notebook and the necromancer’s guide.”

You nodded. “I….”

“Can you go get me some notecards?” Jin asked, providing you with a brief escape. “And a pen?”

You nodded, turning and fleeing the presence of such an evil book.

The others startled when you hurried in.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asked, pausing in his task of what appeared to be drying Jimin’s wings.

“Yes. Did you find the pheonix?”

“No,” Jimin said, drooping. “No sign of it.”

“That’s fine,” You said hastily, grabbing some things for yourself.

“Slow down,” Valina advised, “before you drop everything you’re trying to pick up.”

You just nodded and raced out again, pausing before the corner and composing yourself.

Grendel conveyed the instructions for the last two books, then bowed. “I thank you for guarding these relics. It has been a long journey to find a safe resting place for them.”

You dipped your head very slightly. “War makes many things difficult, though they be difficult to begin with.”

“Very true. I must be off. Many more false trails to lay,” Grendel said, bowing once more. He hesitated in leaving, though. “I know it may not mean much, but I apologize for the wrongs that have been committed toward your kind. I had never seen one of your kind in person before now and I regret not knowing. I do what I must, though, and for that I know I would never be able to listen to your songs. Thank you for your benevolence toward me, even knowing I am of the kind that is dangerous toward yourself.”

“If you continue to remove dangerous things from those who would abuse them, then I wish you luck,” You said, meaning it. Not just anyone would turn over what they had found to be locked away. And while his dark magic was fresh and potent, perhaps it was because he needed it to get those items. “May I ask, what were you doing in the forest?”

He blinked in surprise. “The forest? Oh…I…I’d actually heard that the forest was quite nice and I have this stupid pheonix that’s bound to me and he goes and gets into all sorts of trouble if I don’t properly exercise him.” He looked around. “Thinking of…you haven’t happened to see a pheonix?”

You shook your head rapidly.

Jin shook his head as well.

He sighed. “He probably went after the dragon magic, the stupid fledgling. Well. Either he gets eaten or he learns a lesson. Thank you for your time.” He bowed again and hopped into the truck.

“Dragon?” Jin asked, eyes wide.

“The river dragon, probably,” You offered.

Jin looked at you like you’d grown a second hand.

“Jungkook and I ran across him when we were passing the time before going to look for you. He’s my river-kin, apparently.”

Jin shook his head, showing you the vaults for the books you would care for, how to access them and such. “Of course he is.”

“Hoseok looked pale.”

“Yeah. He’s not as strong as he likes to convey.”

“Are any of us?”

Jin kissed your cheek. “Probably not.”

You ran your fingers along the mortar between the bricks. “Do you think he had an ulterior motive?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. You want to stay at the library?”

You nodded. “I have work to do. Jimin will probably stay with me.”

He nodded. “I don’t think Taehyung will leave now, either. Is that okay?”

“He’s cute. Jimin and I can keep an eye on him.”

“Okay. I’m going to take the others home, then. Make sure Hoseok gets some water, food, and rest.” Jin kissed your cheek. “Don’t speak a word to the others about what books are hidden in the vaults. Or about the books I will be hiding. It’ll be safer.”

You nodded firmly. “Agreed. It’s for their own well-being. Hoseok knows.”

He nodded. “Probably.”

Yoongi stalked up in his black and grey form—his largest form—and then paused, getting ready to leap into Jin’s arms.

Jin stroked Yoongi’s head. “Hey. We’re okay. Thanks for worrying.”

Yoongi just snorted and rested, acting like he’d intended to fall asleep in Jin’s arms.

You reached over and scratched his head, then went into the library to finally do the work that you hadn’t been able to get done in the past three days.

–

Post-Chapter 9 Survey

Previous. Next.

Masterlist. Clearwater Springs Masterpost.

–

Taglist: @kerikaaria @killcomet @letsreadbts @taestannie @dwaaaaaaaaa @missmoxxiesworld @cheese123344 @insfirebunny @crookedstarlitnight @aphot-c @chim-possible @psiphidragon @i-like-puppy-mg @daddyjoonie @softescapism @amammietje @4evahevah @slytherclawwarrior @kittylovsu @forever-once-gone @unlikelylittlemiss @mailani-annie @daydreambrliever @miss-fawn @jinternational-playboy @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @the-obsessive-fangirl @mysticalpostobject @reinaxans @writtenmemoriesau @sunnysoliculus @mailani-annie @carolinexkpop @kascreation @discombobulatedhuman @londongirl2011 @xyahrinx

PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU CAN BE TAGGED BEFORE ASKING TO BE TAGGED

#clearwater springs fic #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fanfic #bts ot7 #soulmate au #fairy au #magic au #bts ot7 x reader #Jimin #Jungkook #Hoseok #Seokjin #Yoongi #Namjoon #Taehyung

126 notes · View notes

strawwritesfic · 2 years

Text

Bucky Barnes x Female!Former Addict!Reader: Tastes a Little Like Freedom, a Little Like Fear [Ch. 13]

Summary: [Name] has finally got her life on track. She’s been clean a year, has a full time job, and recently moved into an apartment that is actually fit to live in. To prove something to herself, she visits the Smithsonian exhibit on Captain America…only to run into someone a little familiar. Adopting a fellow addict is one thing. Accidentally adopting a recovering brainwashed Nazi super soldier is another. [Name]’s life is about to run off track worse than ever before, but there could be a reward at the end if she can just hang on for the bumpy ride.

Challenge: “100 Drabbles Adventure” challenge by SubtleQuirk on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings: M (foul language; sexual references; references to previous drug addiction and continued struggles with drug addiction; torture; mind control; dehumanization; threatening behavior of a man towards a woman; not canon compliant past Winter Soldier; set post-Winter Soldier and pre-Civil War)

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Tag List: @imaginesfire; @ginger-swag-rapunzel

Master List

Chapter 13: Pride

“Shit!” he swore, just as he tried to rise from his seat.

This was a bad idea. His damn legs nearly gave out on him. Before he fell, he managed to scrabble at the nearest hard surface, catching himself right before hitting the floor. He tasted blood; his lips had split open from the violence of his swearing, and he could see his breath crystallizing in the air in front of him. Shivers wracked his body, and he was cold, so cold.

A hard blink dispelled this vision. The tear in his lip disappeared, though his mouth now felt like cotton, like the frost had got stuck in there, unwilling to enter the warm, stuffy kitchen. But the trembling had not stopped. He shivered and shuddered, fingers slipping against the slick wood of the table as he attempted to keep himself upright.

So they could pull him back that easily.

He let out a long, uneven breath. Shit. No. No. He was a person. Bled just like the rest of them. Froze just like the rest of them. God, why was he so cold? His breath was stuck in his chest. They couldn’t have him back. He would not go back.

Thin arms snaked around his torso. He felt his chest seize underneath them. Unthinkingly, he released his slipshod grip on the table. For one glorious moment, the results were exactly as he’d planned: The arms did not have the strength to hold him up on their own. Heave as they might, they simply couldn’t keep him there. Then he went crashing onto the tile floor, right on top of his flesh arm.

“Goddammit!”

“Are you okay?”

He looked up, slightly startled to hear a familiar voice. Of course. Of course he wasn’t on the side of some mountain. He was still stuck in the crappy apartment. Where else was he supposed to go? They were everywhere looking for him, waiting for him. But when she knelt next to him, worry plain in her eyes, he wondered if it might have been worth it to be on his own if he just didn’t have to see that expression on that face ever again.

Not quite.

Her fingers fluttered so close as to nearly brush his shoulder. If this was on purpose, she realized the folly of such action just in time, stopping herself a mere millimetre short.

“I’m so–I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” she asked.

“Do I look alright to you?” he snarled.

God, she’d almost touched him, or rather the hunk of metal grafted to his shoulder. Surely it felt as cold to the touch as the rest of him ought to have been. She’d feel it; she’d know. He’d already screwed up enough to make her suspicious. Maybe she was stupid, but no one was that stupid. Then again, if she did manage to piece everything together, he could just snap her neck before she had the chance to call anyone. It would probably take a few days for her little friends to come hunting for her. He could be out of the country and hidden by then.

“Hey…” she began.

“Leave me alone!“ he snapped. "Can’t you see I want to be alone?”

This was not strictly true. It wasn’t like he’d had to follow her home. No memories and no company made for lonely living, it had found. He had found.

Shit.

The chill was in his very bones. He curled ludicrously in on himself, as though that would somehow crack the ice in his veins. A high whine filled his ears. Now that he was conscious, it was becoming more painfully obvious by the second what effect the past three days had had on him. His chest and side felt a little better, somehow, but the rest of him felt fit to explode. No sleeping, no moving, no bathroom breaks. Really? She didn’t have enough brain cells to rub together to suggest he take a piss? Not that he wanted to spend the short remainder of his life following “suggestions,” but in this case…

“What are you doing?” Her panicked voice cracked above the whine. “Is this a seizure? Should I call Kat? Stop! Please stop. Oh–just–where’s my phone?”

Her frantic step didn’t get her very far. His metal hand clamped around her ankle.

“Don’t. Call. Anyone,” he growled, and as he did, the droning stopped. Oh. That had been coming out of him? No time to consider that. He tightened his grip and yanked, causing her to stumble in his direction. “Don’t call.”

She tried to get her foot back. When that failed, she shot him her fiercest look, the kind she seemed to normally save for insults to her scrambled eggs. “You’re sick!” she said.

“I’m not!” he insisted. He kept his voice down, though. No reason to get the neighbors riled up. She’d said it herself.

“You’re shaking on my floor and whimpering like a kicked dog,” she shot back, still trying to squirm out of his grasp. “I saw your injuries. It’s a miracle you’re even alive.”

Maybe not so much a miracle. Not when compared to everything else he’d been through. When your insides and outsides were twisted as badly as his were, an aircraft carrier crashing on top of you was nothing. He’d take that over going back in the damn chair any day. No, he would not be distracted. She was still twisting around.

Kick. Kick. Kick. She was free. Panting, but free. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

He was too out of breath to protest. Every inch of him trembled with the effort of keeping himself together. The pain in his bladder and head was tremendous, and his sudden terror wasn’t helping. No. Dammit, no. He had not come this far only to be retrieved by whichever one of them was playing EMT today. If he set one foot inside a hospital, he knew that would be the end of it. No more playing hooky. And as nice as this woman was–sometimes, maybe, if unintentionally–he was not going to give up his freedom in exchange for hers. It had come down to it: She would have to die.

But he did not want to kill her. Every second took her further away from him and closer to the phone, wherever she had put that. He could barely hear his own thoughts above his speeding breath. It did not seem possible that he could have both. How could she live and he not die? How could he survive and let her continue existing?

“N-No. Stop. P-please. Please.”

God, he hated to hear the words coming out of his mouth, almost as much as that mortifying cry from earlier. He didn’t beg. He had begged enough. How many years of his existence had been spent on his knees by now? There was nothing that he owed this lady that should have required him to beg. If they got him back, though, he’d be doing a lot worse than begging. That was for sure.

“What was that?” Her head popped back into his sight.

Relief flooded through him so swiftly than he tried to scramble to his feet. This, unfortunately, did not work particularly well, and at her frown, he thought he had lost everything just then. She hadn’t moved yet, though. There was still time.

“P-please,” he said again. Still on his knees. This was enough for them, sometimes, so surely it would enough for her. She wasn’t like them. She’d fed him and let him sleep on her couch. She’d even worried about him after he had threatened to hurt her. He knew more about her than she expected, too. The journal underneath the stack of book underneath the coffee table. He knew what she wanted. He could be that something. “I need help.”

“I know you need help. That’s why I’m calling the hospital.” Her back turned to him again.

He tried to follow after her, but his body just wouldn’t cooperate. Even crawling was too difficult. He got maybe three paces before collapsing once more.

“I–can’t–please.” Tears rolled down his face, again. He couldn’t let this happen, though. Whatever it took. “I can’t leave yet. Not right now. Please.”

Her fear had become replaced with suspicion. He hated that, hated even more that her fear had been for him, not of him.

“What do you mean you can’t leave right now?” Some of the color left her face, leaving her paler than before. “Are you in trouble?”

“Yes!” She understood, thank god. “Yes, but–but I don’t want to be. I promise. They’re after me. I just want to leave. I–” This clearly wasn’t convincing her. Her eyes were only getting bigger and bigger as he went on. She thought, he recalled, that he was on drugs. “I’ll go,” he said, trying to sound less crazy, knowing all the while that he wasn’t going to manage. “I’ll go myself. Just give me time.”

There was a very, very long pause. He could feel each excruciating beat of his heart. Could she see right through him? She wasn’t going to say yes, was she? She was going to wipe her hands clean of him. Maybe they’d even come by, give her a nice reward for the return of their favorite plaything. Only one thing left, then.

“Look in my bag,” he whispered urgently. She hesitated. The next please on his lips didn’t have to come out. Seeing it, she sighed and walked over to where said bag still sat on the carpet next to the couch. She threw him a look, which he answered only with, “the big pocket on the right. Unzip it.”

Another pause, but then she did as she was told. He held his breath until he saw her eyes nearly bug out of her face. Safe, then. He had to be. If that didn’t convince her, nothing probably would.

14 notes · View notes

stargazer-balladeer · 3 years

Text

General Dating Headcanons [Genshin Impact]

Characters Included: (human) Oceanid

Notes: tumblr decided to be an ass and won’t make me post it- hshsh- hopefully it’ll get posted now- anyways,, i’m sorry and i’m not sorry for making this hc- :pp this is longer than the dvalin one btw- hope ya’ll like this!

Reader’s Gender: Neutral

Warning: none

Tagging: @maagdalen

He will be greatly amused by you, when you suddenly appeared before him, challenging him. You immediately caught his interest, whether you win or not. He will start to follow you in his humanoid form. Whether you like it or not, he’s now yours-

How you two start dating? He was already interested in you since you first appeared before him, so it wouldn’t take long for him to ask you out. Similar to Dvalin, he isn’t in-tune with the modern-style of dating. Since I can see him being a gentleman, he will be that. He will give you flowers everyday, since he looks like he knows flower language, there will be meaning behind every flower. He will kiss your hand every morning and prepare food for you (since he basically lives with you-). Basically everything to make you fall in love with him, before formally asking you. (You have to explain to him how the dating system work,, since he basically asked you to marry him right then and there-)

He might be serious and all, but contrary to belief, he is quite loving and albeit clingy. He enjoys teasing you, especially in public, where he can place a kiss on your lips when you least expect it. He finds your embarrassed reaction adorable.

“Hm? Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong, my gem?”

“Your face is awfully red, my (queen/king). Are you coming down with an illness? Well, we must bring you to a healer at once.” “... I hate you.” “I love you too, my love.”

He might put up a front in front of other people, earning him a stoic and cold gentlemen that wears strange clothes reputation. But behind close doors, he’s a cuddlebug. He’s always seeking your affections and is overall clingy.

He loves the glint in your eyes when he manipulates the water around you, it never cease to make his crystal-heart flutter. He would make those water creations that comes to life in battle for you, their not hostile though, res assured. Besides, no one dares to hurt you in his presence.

He might not be that interested with the latest discoveries of humans, but he’s always interested if you talk about something so passionately. Though you won’t be expecting much response from him, just “hmm”, “i see”, “is that so?”, and others. It’s not his fault that you’re quite distracting-

He enjoys it if you run your fingers through his long, light-blue hair. He’ll fall deeper in love with you if he sees that you’re wearing his clothes, which is pretty big since he’s pretty tall. If you put on his blue-colored crown (which he wears similar to a headband-), he wants to marry you right then and there-

“You are really quite adorable, my (queen/king). How you were able to fall to a heartless monster like me is truly a mystery. Though, even if I say that, I won’t let you go so easily. Be it selfish, I truly want and love you, from the deepest depths of the ocean to the highest point in the sky.”

But because of his duty as a Guardian, he has to leave to challenge the ones who dare challenge him. Even though he trusts that you’re capable of defending yourself, he still has his doubts and worries. So he makes a water seelie, who will follow and protect you in wherever you are.

He’s not easily jealous, since he believes that you wouldn’t leave him easily for another person. It might sound a bit egotistical of him but it’s the truth. He trusts you, and he knows that you wouldn’t leave him. So there’s no need for him to be jealous of anyone. If you’re trying to make him jealous, nice try. He won’t fall for it- :p

“Oh? Are you expecting me to succumb to the green of envy? Sorry to say that it wouldn’t work. Nice effort though, my gem.”

Zhongli might be a bit confused on why Oceanid was there in his humanoid form. But when his eyes noticed you, who was standing beside the said-creature. It immediately clicks in his mind. Zhongli decided to shrug it off, as long as Oceanid continued to do his duties then it’s fine.

I can see Oceanid being asleep alot of times, like he’ll sleep at the most random of times. He’ll appreciate it if you ran your fingers through his hair while he sleeps since it’s relaxing. Or if you let him lay his head on your lap, he’ll be delighted. Or maybe do both. He likes it when you pepper his face with kisses as he slowly wakes up. He would have a lovestruck look on his face as he greets you. (He’s a fool in love- 🤧)

Overall, Oceanid is mature yet childish at the same time. He knows when its time to be mature and when its time to play around. Even if his duties call, he’ll never stop reminding you of his love for you. He even gave you a piece of him (a part of the cleansing heart) showing how much he trusts and loves you, willing to share a part of him with you. Afterall, you showed him, a creature who was made to be the Voice of Water, how to love. For that, he was eternally grateful to you.

[x] Main Page || [x] Liyue Page

#so i added some random facts here (all coming from me-)#hopefully ya’ll don’t mind- XPP #someone requested this btw-#HAHAHA #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #oceanid #oceanid x reader #genshin impact oceanid #genshin impact oceanid x reader #req ans❣️

180 notes · View notes

queenangst · 3 years

Note

I know you have a lot of prompts already but: UA student Izuku discovers he has (a version of) AFO (the quirk) and freaks out.

for my 30 min fic challenge / read more: ‘30 min fics’ tag

replicate [read on AO3]

The first thing Izuku made with Momo’s Quirk was a replica of the Golden Age All Might figurine he saved up for and bought himself when he was seven.

That was how he knew it was Momo’s Quirk. No other Quirk could quite have given him the power it did; and he chose the figurine because he remembered each piece of it, each layer of carefully-applied paint, every detail.

Afterwards, Izuku held the figurine in his hands.

He wasn’t sure he could do it. He wasn’t sure he had Creation.

But now Izuku was sure of both.

In his room, lit only by a slit of light where the curtains didn’t meet and so allowed the sun to peer through, Izuku pulled the All Might figurine close to him. It looked real. It looked exactly as he remembered. Yet Izuku knew it wasn't the same.

The old figurine had accidentally been broken when Izuku was fourteen, the same year he’d met the real All Might. Looking at the polished paint and the wide smile, all his strength sapped away. The plastic creaked as his knees gave out from under him, and Izuku gasped.

He hadn’t told All Might yet. He couldn’t, at least not until he was sure; now he was sure, he still couldn’t, because the knowledge of what power Izuku held was the same as his greatest enemy.

Izuku began to get his things.

Not pack—he wasn’t running away, but he was leaving. He shoved his phone in his pocket, checking to make sure it was charged, and his wallet; his set of keys; and his fear.

Then he went to the bathroom, peering into his reflection for a moment. Just to see. His soft face, his freckles; his eyes, the slope of his nose; the curl of his hair, his smile. So much of that was Mom’s. But he also imagined in his mind, the same features overlaid on All for One’s face, and the thought scared him, that it might be true.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei said when Izuku went to him—he couldn’t see All Might, not now. “You know visits need to be approved in advance. There’s paperwork. The system exists to keep you safe.”

“Please,” Izuku begged. “It’s—a family emergency.”

It was, sort of. Aizawa-sensei studied him for a moment, unreadable. Perhaps he sensed that a family emergency wasn’t the whole truth. Perhaps he sensed there was something broken in Izuku; or not broken, but more. More than should exist in a single person.

“Alright, Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei said finally, and let him go home.

Mom was there. He hadn’t stopped to think about what would happen if she wasn’t—he’d wait alone at the kitchen table, circling his thoughts, or he’d go tearing through their shared apartment looking for anything that could be considered an answer. When he unlocked the front door and threw the door open with more force than he should have.

He saw Mom, and his resolve almost crumbled. She had a comfortable set of clothes on. Her hair was tied back in a bun. She was so much the person who had raised him that Izuku’s heart stopped and tried to flee.

It can’t be true. It can’t be true!

“Izuku?” she asked, walking forwards when he didn’t move. Izuku hadn’t even taken off his shoes, but he just—couldn’t take any more steps from the doormat. Mom reached him and tugged at his shirt so she could wrap her arms around him. “Izuku, baby, it’s the middle of the week, and you didn’t say you were coming. And they usually have it approved—oh, no, no, do your teachers know you’re here? Did… Izuku? Izuku, what’s wrong?”

He’d started crying at some point. Izuku felt his breathing hitch as he tucked his head forward and shook.

“Mom,” he said.

He’d been angry earlier at the thought. At the secret she must have been keeping from him. At something All for One had said to him, in a moment when All for One could have killed him; and instead he’d tenderly brushed his fingers along Izuku’s temple and said, you look so much like your mother.

And you are exactly like me.

He’d locked that memory away for a long time. It scared him. He didn’t understand it, what All for One wanted. What he meant. Why they hadn’t fought, why All for One had let him go, and why, every time after that encounter, One for All felt different when Izuku used it.

Before, it felt like lightning. Now, it felt like the entire storm.

“When were you going to tell me?” The question burst from him because he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

The doctor, the one who diagnosed him Quirkless. The same doctor who was caught by the heroes as one of All for One’s.

Mom, after Izuku was diagnosed, hadn’t said, you can still be a Quirkless hero. She hadn’t said anything about being Quirkless. She’d only said, crying over him and repeating again and again, I’m sorry.

She pulled back now, even though he felt the same as he had when he was four, and looked into his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” he whispered. “Mom. Please don’t. I- I need to know—”

He saw the moment she realized he knew.

So many moments that made no sense in his childhood, so many pieces, the way Mom never talked about family. And how familiar All for One seemed.

“Oh, Izuku…”

“When were you going to tell me your Quirk wasn’t attraction of small objects? Or that I-I- I wasn’t Quirkless ?” He stopped. Fear trickled in, cold water. “Because… I never was, right?”

Mom bit her lip. She didn’t say sorry this time.

“No, Izuku. You weren’t Quirkless. But—” She wiped at her eyes. “I hoped if you never knew you had inherited a version of your grandfather’s Quirk that you would never use it as he does. And… and for some reason, he agreed to let me keep it from you. That was the last time we spoke—the last time I saw him until, well…”

She didn’t seem surprised anymore. Just sad.

“Say it,” Izuku whispered. She looked so much like him. “Say his name. My… my grandfather’s name.”

Mom shook her head.

“I don’t know his name,” she told him softly. “But you call him All for One.”

She caught his hands as he cried, harder, and kissed his forehead. “I know, baby,” Mom whispered. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. If you have One for All… I didn’t want to hurt you. All for One’s legacy… you always wanted to be a hero so badly. How could I tell you about him?”

“You should have . So I wouldn’t find out like this !” Izuku cried. He thought of Mom’s favorite hairpin, each piece of it, the red crystals forming like beads of blood, and he began to pull it from his arm, thin metal breaking through skin. Mom watched, and took it when he held it out to her. “I took someone’s Quirk. I took- my classmate… Momo. She’s, Mom, I took her Quirk. I didn’t want to, but I just—”

Izuku hadn’t felt right before training, but he pushed the feeling away. When he called One for All in the fight against Momo, it writhed under his skin. It felt different and wrong, and his body so tight he thought he would fall apart if Momo just touched him.

And then she attacked, he’d seen a threat, and a string of light snapped taut between them. Izuku pulled.

“Attraction,” Mom said, with a pained and knowing smile. She tossed the hairpin he’d made in the air and then drew it back towards her before it could go far. “It is the same thing. You feel the connection, and you pull it towards you.”

“I don’t want it.”

Her eyes crinkled. “You are more suited to your Quirk than All for One is, and you’re a far better person than me.” She squeezed his hand. “He would have never said that.”

Izuku touched the hairpin. Thought of the All Might figurine. Perfect replicas, but unoriginal. He had memorized every part of them, thoroughly. He would do the same with his own Quirk, until he could control it finely, to the point where he would never use it again.

But first—

“He said I was exactly like him.”

“You’re nothing like him.” Mom’s smile grew wider. Then she nodded solemnly. “Izuku… I know I’ve made mistakes. But I am sorry.”

She was his mom. She was the person who’d raised him. The person who had lied to him for his entire life, but she had finally told him the truth when he asked.

Izuku thought he might forgive her in time.

But first—

“Can I give it back?”

Mom cupped his hands with hers. “Of course,” she said, and began to teach him how.

Taglist: If you’d like to be added or removed from this taglist (tagged when a new fic is posted), please let me know. If your blog is unmentionable, I cannot tag you.

@happi-tree @soyoudneverguess @granny-griffin @zannish @liarielle @ashemberss @gwogobo @honeyandsonshine @cinammon-cinner @paralumanleadmehome @ship-toast @gabs-2002 @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear @weird-skittle @sapphire363 @fr0znmang0 @in-honor-of-you @cheese490 @anakinthetrashking @proheromidoriyashouto @lust-nd-love @firefletch @mamamiamia @frankiealexquin @crossroadofinterests @bornindundee @bleusmainpage @fleurie3am15inspo @scheherahzade

#asks #bnha #bnha fanfic #afo #izuku #afo izuku #inko #my fanfic #30 min fics #anonymous

127 notes · View notes

bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

Note

i'm very interested in how you would change ro (especially since i totally agree with the post you made about her). do you mind sharing?

nonsie I would absolutely love to share. I've mentioned for a while that the ogres feel flat and that Ro's character has become repetitive, but I don't think I ever explained what I'd want to do with her given the chance.

my main grievance boils down to me wanting her to acknowledge her weaknesses. a soldier with the confidence of a god is only interesting to a certain point and becomes boring, but someone who can look at themselves and acknowledge their faults and work on them is infinitely more interesting and explorable to me. this is something we see with literally every soldier like character, and I'm just over it. Sandor and Grizel frequently bicker about their talents and who could beat each other, Bo, Ro, and Sandor try to one up each other and just say they could beat each other with nothing more to it.

I can accept and actually encourage this confidence in Ro up to a point, especially when she's first introduced. it makes sense. she's entering a hostile situation, surrounded by people who hate her--there is literally no one open to her at that time. Not even the other ogre. having that front of composed strength, so secure in herself she has the time to get invested in the little, unimportant things (complaining about elves and their culture), it gives her security in a way. But we've gotten past a lot of that. now it's stubborn and a refusal to change that will get her killed. I think it nearly did in Nightfall.

second thing i want to change: emotional vulnerability and awareness. What we've (or at least I've) been talking about recently is how she doesn't care how her actions affect others. Now, I don't think empathy is the solution to this, not for her. Empathy isn't necessary to be conscious and considerate of others and its ableist to think it is. So many people without natural empathy make deliberate decisions to be aware of and caring towards others every day. if Ro is going to be this highly intelligent trained soldier, i think it would make more sense for her to have a technical approach to emotions. to be trained to assess her soldiers and how they're doing and what she needs to do to support them to get them through the mission. right now she's just doing what she wants with no regard to the real impact it has on Sophie and keefe. i want her to use these skills to look at the situation and step back. talk to each of them seriously, individually. assess it. and then decide what she'll do next.

for the vulnerability part, I want her to have a real goal she's working towards. something she enjoys outside of just being threatening. something she does in her free time just for her. considering she's been in three and a half books we really don't know that much about her. I also want her to make an effort for an emotion she has to be understood outside of confidence and a sense of superiority. she doesn't fit in anywhere she goes, that's something sophie can relate to. I want them to form a legitimate relationship based on genuine shared experiences. right now we know she eventually wants to be queen, but with her father still alive that's a distant personal goal. maybe she wants to develop a new type of microorganism, or figure out how to make her own weapons, or anything that has personal meaning. we don't have that from her right now (that I can think of) and I think it's a big...letdown? i can't think of the right word. disappointment? like she doesn't live up to her potential and we were rooting for her but she fell short.

finally, I want her rebellion to be more deliberate. right now it feels like she's rebellious and plays with knives just because she can. i started to touch on this in the tags of a previous post where i was saying I love her for her potential. i have a soft spot for rebellious characters, but I want it to be intelligent misbehavior and criticism. she's so close yet so far. she doesn't like how sparkly and crystalline the elven world is. okay, but why? i'd make it about politics or something similar. maybe she doesn't like the crystal infrastructure because the constant harvesting is damaging to land important to her people. maybe the bright colors make it inaccessible to other species (life dwarves).

she thinks elves look boring and plain? okay, why is that a problem? maybe it's because the repetition off their species erases individuality and she values who people are and not who society wants them to be. she gets tattoos because she fully believes her body is just that: a body. she doesn't need to be careful and deliberate and sacred with it (nothing wrong if you are like that), and not every piece of art on it needs to have deep meaning. she does her tattoos herself? maybe it's because she wants to challenge the idea that everything meaningful needs to be done the "right" way.

I think Ro could be a great avenue for a lot of meaningful messages about nonconformity and individual thought, but she's gotten stuck into this box of being the Sokeefe shipper and messing around with teen drama. i want her to exist outside of that. this is not to say that every individual thing she does needs to be profound or have a secretive message behind it, but I think some of them should be more than just rebellion for the sake of it.

I'll stop here before this post gets any longer, but these are just some of the thoughts I have about what I'd want to do with Ro in relation to the series. as possible future queen she has reason to be more than just this character meant to further a ship and make everyone uncomfortable in the process. i think there's a lot of potential for her that hasn't been used yet.

is there anything you'd want to do with her or that you think Shannon should've done to add depth to her character? /gen. I kinda threw a lot at you so thought i'd give you this opportunity to respond if you wanted !!

19 notes · View notes

nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Mr. & Mrs. Barnes - Five

Pairing: Spy!Bucky X Spy!Reader AU

Summary: James and (Y/n) Barnes live the perfect apple pie life. Or so they think. In a marriage as close as theirs, secrets are bound to be revealed at some point, it’s only a matter of time. What will the other do when the secrets threaten their lives?

Warnings: Language, Fighting, Violence, Smut, Fluff,

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Bruh it’s been over a year. But here is the second last instalment of this series. I’ve got the ending planned out and it’s a little different than the movie, but I like it and I think it fits nicely. Me posting this is part of my New Year, New Series personal challenge where I finish the stuff I’ve started to make room for new stuff in 2021!

Masterlist Series Masterlist

SORRY IF I MISSED TAGS

~*~

“James I can’t handle this. You keep not dying when I think you’re dead.” He scoffs from the other line and you hear a car engine revving in the background.

“Stop trying to kill me then. I thought we were having a moment,” he says. You wipe your eyes and sigh. “We were. And I had to do what was necessary.” He exhales deeply. “I guess we’ll just… deal with this when we get home.” Your stomach drops at his tone, knowing exactly what’s gonna happen when he gets home.

“I guess so. I’ll meet you home then, James. And I love you. I really, truly do.”

You race home, obeying a grand total of probably three traffic laws on the way, determined to get home before your husband.

And you succeed. The house is empty and dark when you get home, you make sure of that. And you make sure it stays that way by locking all the windows and doors and arming yourself with as many guns and weapons your body can physically carry.

You situate yourself on the staircase, back against the wall while your eyes and ears stay peeled for any sudden noises or movement that would indicate that your husband is home.

Bucky has to break into his own house.

His own goddamn house.

That pisses him off. But, he does it and manages to do it silently, breaking in through a window in the dining room, clock and silencer in hand as he stalks around the house, looking for you.

When he approaches the wall by the staircase he stops, trying to figure out if you’re there or not. Eventually, he grabs a picture frame and decides to check for himself.

He carefully angles the picture frame towards the stairs, trying to see if you’re there in the reflection on the glass.

Just as he sees you, you shoot the frame out of his hand. He ducks down as you start shooting through the wall, each bullet missing his head by only a few inches.

When you stop shooting you wait, listening for any indication that he’s still alive.

“You still alive, Baby?” You ask almost teasingly, ignoring the tingling in your chest when you hear him groaning and his gun dropping to the floor.

Huffing out a breath, you loosen your grip on the gun, until you’re suddenly being shot at through the holes in the wall.

You roll down the stairs and into the corner, shooting at him through the wall again, pissed off.

You hurry down the rest of the stairs as he walks down the opposite hallway. You round the corner on your knees, gun raised and sliding towards the couch while he rounds the other corner, shooting at you. You shoot right back until you’re safely behind the couch, switching the magazines on your guns.

Taking a deep breath, you round the corner again and back up against the stairs, looking around for Bucky.

Meanwhile, he’s walking along the other hallway to the stairs, trying to catch you by surprise. It backfires horribly, however, when he knocks a mug off of the counter in the kitchen, sending it falling to the floor with a loud crash.

You shoot through that spot in the wall and he runs the opposite way, diving into the kitchen as you shoot at him through the doorway.

He throws open the fridge door, blocking your rain of bullets, and you grind your teeth in frustration.

He hides behind the counter, reaching up under the stove and cutting the gas line, hoping this does the trick.

He peaks his head out and, as suspected, you start firing. He holds the hose and you gasp as fire bursts and explodes towards you. You dive to the floor, backing away as fast as you can while trying to grab your gun.

That’s when he emerges from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and ready to fight.

As you’re standing up, he knees you in the chest, sending you stumbling back into the wall. He knees you twice more in the stomach then tries to elbow you in the head, his arm connecting with the wall as you duck and swing your own elbow to the back of his head.

He stumbles away from you and down the hall, forcing you to follow him. You shove him over a vanity, making him fall to the floor with a loud grunt while you grab a lamp. He raises his arm just as you bring it down, breaking it over his elbow instead of his head like you wanted to.

He grabs your shoulders and all-but throws you into the wall, cracking the wall with the force of your fall. He grabs onto your arm and slams you against the doorway and, while you try to catch your breath, he pulls you into the dining room and shoves you over the table.

You end up falling over a chair and onto the floor, bringing many things from the table down with you.

You push yourself onto your knees weakly, the breath knocked from your lungs for a moment. He saunters around the table, no doubt with a cocky grin on his handsome face, and your own face contorts with anger.

“C’mon baby, come to daddy.” You grab your antique metal flower vase and wrap it in the table cloth, fury filling you at his taunts.

You get up onto your feet, spin around, and smack him across the face with the vase.

He’s momentarily stunned, and you use that time to wrap the cloth around the back of his neck and tug on each end. He leans towards you involuntarily and you slam your forehead against his, sending him back a step. You kick him in the chest and he falls into the liquor cabinet, bottles of expensive booze shattering around him as he falls to the ground.

“Who’s your daddy now?” You ask with a smirk, running out of the room.

You hear him stumble to his feet and chase after you as you approach the living room where your gun lies on the ground. Sliding to your knees, you grab it, only to have him kick it right out of your hands.

He tackles you to the ground and you use the momentum of the fall to roll him onto his back, you straddling his waist.

You raise your fists and lay into him, hitting him over and over again, mostly on his arms when he raises them to block your blows, but a fair amount hitting his face.

He blocks your punch with one arm then uses the other to grab you by the side of the neck and pull you onto the floor, switching your positions quickly.

Before he can hit you, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, slamming his head into the ground.

He groans then grabs you by the hips and stands up, stumbling a step as you stay clinging to his figure.

He runs you into the wall, and when that doesn't shake you off he slams you into the mirror on the opposite wall. You let go of him, sliding down onto the decorative stool and struggling to catch your breath while glaring at him.

You grab two heavy crystal decanters from beside your legs and bring them up, crushing them against either side of his head then diving forward onto him, legs around his waist again.

Your elbow finds purchase where his shoulder and neck meet, and you hit him there time after time, trying to find the spot of nerves that will make him collapse.

You eventually manage to get him on his back again, but before you can hit him he’s grabbing your hair and tossing you onto the floor beside himself.

He smacks you across the face and scrambles to his feet, then starts kicking you. You curl your knees to your chest to prevent him from hitting anything major, but he’s already landed a few solid kicks to your ribs and stomach.

You kick your own foot out and it hits its target between his legs, sending him crumpling to the ground.

The two of you struggle to your feet at the same time, and he stares at you, panting with his fists raised, and you do the same. He waist for you to make the first move but when your eyes dart a few feet to the left then back to him quickly, he drops his hands and dives over to where your guns lay strewn on the floor.

You grab yours and aim it at him while he grabs his and aims it at you.

Everything comes screeching to a halt and the house is silent, save for the panting coming from the two of you.

You slowly rise to your feet and he does the same, blue eyes trained on yours as you point the gun at his head.

He lowers his gun after a moment, glances down, then shakes his head and looks back up to you.

“I can’t do it,” he whispers. You shake your head, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Don’t! Come on, come on!” You shout, desperate for him to make the next move.

“You want it?” He asks softly, eyes never once leaving yours. “It’s yours.” He tosses the gun to the ground and you feel your bottom lip tremble.

He watches the tears, the sorrow in your eyes, and sighs when he realizes the anger and the determination are gone.

He takes a careful step forward and when you make no hostile move he pushes the gun out of your hand and tosses it to the floor.

His hands come up and cradle your face and you grab at his neck, pulling him in for a searing and passionate kiss.

His hands move down to your ass and he hoists you up, groaning against your lips when you wrap your legs around him, accidentally grinding against him. He pushes you to the kitchen table, sitting you down on it while his lips move down your throat, you gasp as he bites down, no doubt leaving a mark, and he kisses back up to your lips while his hands shove your dress up away from your legs, giving him access to what he wants.

You grab at his shirt, desperate for it to be off so you can feel the comforting warmth of his skin against yours.

He gets the hint and tears it down the middle, letting the shreds fall to the floor around his feet.

“James,” you whisper, gripping his shoulders and pulling him closer to you.

He pulls your dress off of your shoulders and lets it hang loose around your waist, his hands tearing your bra off then pulling your chest tight against his.

He groans at the feeling and kisses down your neck again before shoving his pants down his thighs and freeing his cock from the tight confines.

“You ready for me, baby?” He asks softly, voice a breathy moan in your ear. You nod, desperate to feel him in your already soaked heat.

He grabs your hips and pulls you to the edge of the table, sliding his cock through your folds a few times and hissing at the way your cunt soaks him within a matter of seconds.

“Please, James, please,” you beg, tears prickling your eyes. All you want is to feel him, every inch of him, against you.

He nods, pressing his forehead against yours as he slowly pushes himself into you. You moan lewdly, basking in the feeling of him pressing against your walls and stretching you so perfectly.

“Fuck,” he hisses. You lean up a bit, lips meeting his in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and fire. He slowly starts thrusting and you inhale sharply, moaning into his mouth and digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders. He grunts against your lips, hips moving faster while his hands grip your thighs tight enough to bruise.

You throw your head back, a loud moan tearing its way out of your throat, and his chest rumbles with a growl. He pushes you down flat on your back rather roughly, one hand coming up to grip your throat, his fingers flexing and squeezing around your neck.

Your mouth drops open, eyes closing as the pleasure builds between your legs.

“M’gonna make you cum for me, baby. Gonna make you cum nice and hard. You want that? Yeah?” You nod, prying your eyes open and gazing up at him, nothing but pure love and absolutely unfiltered need in your eyes.

He picks up speed, hammering into you with enough force to have you sliding up the table. The hand on your thigh pulls you back into him, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust, and your pussy clenches with each thrust.

The intense feeling of him hitting every sensitive spot inside of you mixed with the overwhelming emotions flooding your body has you nearing the edge in record time,

He feels the fluttering of the walls, can see the way your eyes start rolling back, and he knows you’re close.

His fingers squeeze the tiniest bit harder on your throat while he pumps into you faster, angling his hips in such a way as to allow his pelvis to rub against your clit with every thrust.

Your back arches at the new stimulation and your walls convulse around his cock. He doesn’t stop, instead, he fucks you through your climax, determined to fill you up with his cum.

The spasming of your walls and the way you’re squeezing him so fucking tightly is enough to send him over the edge. His thrusts get sloppy as his muscles clench, his orgasm crashing over him in waves.

He cums inside of you in hot bursts, painting your swollen walls white with his release, marking you up and leaving his claiming mark inside of you.

A small part of his mind thinks back to the IUD you had packaged for him, and the thought of you getting pregnant makes him groan and lean down to kiss you, his hand moving from your neck to cradle your face.

He plants soft kisses across your face as you catch your breath, caught in your post-orgasmic haze. The hand on your thigh moves up to his shoulder, prying your nails out of his flesh and interlocking your fingers with his.

You pull your other hand up, fingers raking through his hair and massaging his scalp gently. He looks up at you, a grin on his face and you can’t help but giggle.

“How’s that for hate-fucking?” He asks. You roll your eyes and give his hair a tug.

“Shut up.” The two of you lapse back into silence, and this time you can’t keep the intrusive thoughts out.

“They’re gonna expect a body,” you murmur, eyes focused on a bullet hole in the kitchen ceiling. He hums his agreement, pushing himself up to stand straight and slipping his cock out of you. You whine softly, but follow his lead, sitting up and trying to ignore the feeling of his cum dripping out of you.

He leans back, not bothering to pull his boxers on properly, and looks at you. “So what do we do?” He asks. You take a deep breath and shake your head.

“If I don’t bring your head in on a silver platter then I’m sure I’ll be the next target. And there’s only so much running we can do.” He nods, pursing his lips before raising his eyebrows.

“Why don't our companies merge?” The idea seems so obvious that it’s ridiculous. “Maria would never agree to that.”

“Wait... Maria Hill?” You nod, looking at him curiously as he rubs his chin. “Maria and Nick have been butting heads for years. I’m not surprised we were sent to take out the same target. They’re always trying to one-up each other. Some fucking stupid falling out.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Nick Fury is your boss? Jesus Christ the man is ruthless.” Your husband chuckles then shrugs.

“C’mon. Let’s get you some clothes and then we can talk business.” You nod, hopping off of the counter and heading to the stairs, Bucky following close behind.

“Well... maybe getting dressed and talking business can wait. We’ve got some lost time to make up for,” he says from behind you, eyes focused on your ass. You shake your head, a smile on your face as you glance over your shoulder at him.

“You, James, are insatiable.”

He chuckles, slapping your ass and smiling at the squeal you let out. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

#bucky x reader #mr and mrs smith #mr barnes #Mr and Mrs Barnes #mr and mrs barnes masterlist #bucky x reader au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky/you #bucky/reader #bucky/reader smut #bucky/reader au #bucky x reader lemon #bucky x reader fluff #Bucky Barnes x reader au #Bucky Barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut

216 notes · View notes