#no I won't let this go my bitter river runs long and deep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

author-morgan · 3 years

Note

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist: @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

167 notes · View notes

wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Viv Tang fic or hc?

It's angst, where The Poppy leaves MC to take the blame on one of their heists, promising that they would break her out, but never did. Yet despite that she never sold them out.

Then Nadia was the one who broke her out, manipulating her and plotting lies in her head to make her join Flashpoint.

The Poppy did do their everything to break MC out but everytime Nadia intercepts them. So when they finally tracked down where MC and Nadia is, on the location of their latest operation, they tried to reason to her. But MC's loyalty was too deep for Nadia maybe because Nadia also made MC think that she loves her or something.

And maybe the last words could be:

"Next time I won't hesitate to tell them to pull the trigger, maybe I'll be the one to pull the trigger myself."

Make it as angsty as possible please and thank you in advance!

Warning: Mentions of murder.

...

Prison life was hell. Try as she might, MC couldn’t endure it as well as she thought she could. There was an enemy in every shadow, in every corner. There was no one to lean against, no support.

The days dragged on and on, virtually endless, no help in sight.

MC remembered the warmth of the Poppy, their joyous celebrations, the life in their eyes as they planned a heist that would ultimately unveil in failure. No one had known then that it would go wrong, and MC couldn’t help but wonder if they would have cared. If they would have changed anything in the plan.

There wasn’t a moment in this damn place where people didn’t shove it in her face—no doubt it was on purpose, why the heck would they want to drag a failure like you around? —and scoffed at her when they saw her, not believing for a second that this scared little kid could belong to such a famous group.

Two weeks in, MC had abandoned any hope that she would be rescued. She was stuck for fifteen years in this place. Investigators would come in periodically, their eyes stone cold as they probed her for answers, but MC kept her mouth shut and looked away. They would get physical sometimes, intent on getting answers, but MC say nothing.

The memory of a place she truly belonged in was still fresh in her mind. She had always been an emotional person… it was no surprise she had no desire to sell them out. At least not yet. Give her a couple of months, and maybe she’d be bitter enough to do it.

Three weeks in, a blast had knocked the whole prison into chaos. The sheer relief that flooded her was only slightly evaporated by the spark of anger and indignation in her chest, but she still hurried out, thirsty for freedom.

She expected to see Vivienne’s impish smirk, hand extended in her direction, no remorse in her eyes, but was surprised by golden hair and a tight, crisp suit that had once been white, now marred by dirt and smoke and blood.

“Oh good, I was wondering how much target practice I would have before you showed up,” the woman said, her grin as sharp as a knife’s edge even though she was standing so casually, as if they weren’t standing at the edge of a broken prison wall but in a café.

MC froze, caught off guard. Someone—another inmate—ran behind her, intent on reaching freedom, and the woman whipped a gun in his direction so fast he didn’t even have time to react. His body joined the pile of bodies by the side, momentum making it flop like a sad, broken doll. The woman hums to herself as she reloads the gun.

“Hurry up, MC, I don’t have all day.”

“Wha—? But you just shot—”

She shrugs, nonchalant. “Yeah, well, since they are no use to me… I might as well practice my aim, no?”

“…I—”

“Hurry up and come here, MC,” the woman says, impatience making her voice firmer and deadlier. Her arm snaps up, the sound of a gunshot making the air vibrate, and MC covers her ears and flinches. Someone lets out a pained gurgle and the thump right behind her makes MC shiver. A swift glance reveals it’s a guard. “The cavalry has arrived—next shot is at your feet if you don’t move. Right. Now.”

MC has never run so fast in her entire life. The woman’s grin returns, pleased, and after one last shot, she guides MC out into a waiting helicopter. They are out of the prison without much trouble. Still a bit anxious, MC takes one of the seats, stiffly. In contrast, the woman lets herself drop in the seat in front of her and all but beams at her.

“Sorry about that—I like to make things dramatic. Name’s Nadia.”

“That was… a tad more dramatic than I would have liked…”

“You’ll get used to it in no time,” she replies, waving her hand as if it’s no big deal. She smirks and lets the gun drop on MC’s lap, who goes very still, staring at the device in horror. “Safety’s on, chill. I’d never do anything to you, MC.”

“You literally threatened me like three seconds ago.”

“Because we were going to get caught otherwise! I wouldn’t have acted on it, promise.”

MC chances a look at her eyes—there’s a dangerous amusement dancing in them, like the light blue of a river that doesn’t seem to have a very strong current until you are swept off into a certain death. There are no second chances with this woman, no false appearances. MC doesn’t realize how reliving this raw honesty is until it washes over her, and she wonders if right now she’s at the edge of the river. One wrong move…

“Thank you for getting me out of there.”

“No big deal. I heard what happened with the Poppy—figures they aren’t as noble as they make everyone believe.”

Those words cut into MC like a frosty knife.

“I… I thought they sent you to break me out…”

Nadia scoffs. “Me, working with stuck-ups like them? Now that’s a good laugh.”

“Why did you bail me out, then?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She leans forward. “The Poppy threw away some very valuable talent. As any proper thief would do, I claimed it for myself.”

“…threw away, huh?”

“They were quite satisfied with themselves, too. Imagine the fit they’ll have when they know you’re with Flashpoint now.”

It’s hard to believe her words. The image of a joyous Poppy is still fresh in MC’s mind, but Nadia’s words tint it a dull reddish-brown, just like a faded photograph. She thinks about Vivienne’s words, about her promise to break her out, and frowns.

“You speak as though I’ve already joined your little group.”

“There’s no other option, MC. I’m not letting a talent like you slip away… plus, don’t you want to get back at them? Show them what a horrible mistake they did?”

“…”

“Or just let them seethe silently in rage, sure. Can’t say I love your approach, but eh.”

Her fingers curl around the grip of the gun. “What happens if I don’t want to work for you?”

Nadia looks at her with keen interest, still with a lazy smirk. “Then you’d be volunteering for target practice.”

“I thought you say you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I don’t hurt my coworkers, no, but if you cross me—whoever you are—then you seal your fate.”

MC hums, looking at the firearm in her lap, moving her thumb over the safety. After a small pause, in which she glances over at the pilot, she moves her hand away.

“Fine. I’ll join.”

“Great!”

Flashpoint, true to its name, prefers more flashy heists.

MC wasn’t too comfortable with their modus operandi at first, but got used to it soon enough.

Nadia was a strict leader. Every conversation with her was intense and dangerous, especially when she was in a bad mood, but she was thorough.

She didn’t mince her words. She was as honest as could be, and after months caught in Vivienne’s game, Nadia was a breath of fresh air. MC couldn’t be really blamed for falling in love with her, right? In the end, Nadia was the only one willing to support her.

That’s why it had been such a surprise when, in the middle of their latest heist, the Poppy had intervened.

They had been as organized as always—Flashpoint was completely caught off guard, the communication lost. MC could deal with not knowing what happened to the rest, so long as she had Nadia with her.

Nadia had been strangely amused when the Poppy crashed their heist, not worried at all, gripping her knife without a care in the world. That was reassuring… at least during this forced encounter, MC would have her by her side.

And it was comforting to see that Nadia hadn’t taken out her gun yet.

Vivienne is the one who speaks, voice as demanding as firewood smoke, and MC goes deadly still when the seductress goes straight to the point instead of dancing around the subject as she usually does. “Nadia prevented us from breaking you out.”

Her words ring hollow. Now that MC has been out of her influence long enough, it’s easy to ignore her words. They are fake, anyway. They must be.

Nadia scoffs, wolfish grin still in place. “Blaming me now, huh? That’s low. I thought you would have come up with a better excuse.”

Remy instantly starts to explain the foiled attempts, and their most recent efforts to find Flashpoint now that MC was with them, but MC can’t look at him without remembering her time in prison—dark, dark, not an ally in sight, contempt in every corner—and it’s enough to make her bristle.

How dare they? How dare they spill these lies after leaving her to rot in jail? After lying to her for months, making her believe she was one of them?

The fact that they had left her to take the fall was insulting. If it had been Nadia, she would have stayed with her. They would have gone down together, guns blazing. Nadia was the type of person that gave everything or nothing at all.

Vivienne tries to speak again, a desperation in her eyes MC had never seen before, but the sight is oddly satisfying.

Nadia catches it, because of course she does, her smirk softening as she reaches for her gun and aims casually. “Better beg for your lives now.”

And Nadia’s also a very dramatic person, that’s for sure. MC almost wants to laugh at their faces, eyes trained on the gun, expression tainted with disbelief, but MC sees no point in killing them. Not like this, at least.

“What? You still don’t want to get back at them?” But even then, even with how much she’s itching to pull the trigger, Nadia lowers the weapon and scowls. “Fine.”

“Don’t come back to me with this bullshit. Next time I won’t hesitate to tell Nadia to pull the trigger. Maybe I’ll even pull the trigger myself.”

Vivienne sets her jaw and stands still, and MC gives her a small, triumphant smile before she follows Nadia out of the museum.

#Anonymous #answered #lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #qot #queen of thieves #qot nadia #lovestruck nadia #queen of thieves nadia #nadia pshenichnikova #nadia x mc #angst

28 notes · View notes

drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

Bitter love

Pairing: Kamilah x mc (Dakota Rivers)

Summary: This takes place in Tokyo after the gang has met The Five. Dakota is feeling insecure regarding the number of ex's Kamilah has. Kamilah tries to comfort her and in the moment, words are spoken and feelings are returned.

Warning: PG (just slight swearing but nothing much) fluff and slight angst.

Author's note: Since PB just loves rubbing Kamilah's ex lovers in our face and the fact that we still could not say the three words, i just wrote this one shot for a little comfort. Hope you like it. Like and reblog :)

You're just bitter that I left you and you know that.

That one line kept on ringing in Dakota's head, drilling the bitter truth into her head.

She never felt this level of jealousy and insecurity before. She didn't feel this self doubt even when she found her ex in another guy's arms.

But, that wasn't true love Dakota.

Dakota knew that it was natural for a 2000 year old vampire to have multiple flings and lovers, because immortality tends to become dull at some point.

Kamilah was gorgeous and it was but obvious that she would have so many exes, but it didn't ease the pain.

They say that as a vampire, you love more, feel more and your feelings are heightened, but the downside it that it hurts more and jealousy is a huge part.

She rememebers the hazy details of the past when Kamilah and Aiko locked gazes from afar. The innocent touches, the heated glances, Dakota remembered them clearly from her memories.

Dakota just paced down the balcony of the penthouse, trying to work of her restlessness, but her thoughts kept going back to Aiko and Kamilah.

She tried to reason with herself. "Dakota, there is no point getting jealous. Its all in your head. Kamilah won't leave you the moment she sees a gorgeous woman or a hot guy...right? Arghhh." The insecurity and low self esteem was just so infuriating and the thought of Aiko's ridiculously hot face made her wanted to break something.

So, she punched the wall.

She thought that it would make her feel better, but all it caused was a dent and bloodied knuckles. Takeshi will not be happy.

"Fuck fuck fuck... Ouch."

She sat on the floor, breathing heavily and she saw her skin heal. She was so engrossed that she didn't notice kamilah standing behind her.

"Dakota, I was gonna ask you if you were alright, but looking at the size of the dent you made, I shouldn't be worried." Kamilah said with a smirk.

"Of course you will find this amusing." Dakota grumbled. Kamilah just shook her head, and picked her up in bridal style and headed to the adjacent room. Dakota yelped in surprise, but she wasn't conplaining.

After setting her on the bed, Kamilah slid behind her and wrapped her arms around her.

She is so soft...and cuddly. Kamilah thought mentally.

"So habibti, tell me what is bothering you?" Kamilah asked gently.

"Nothing." Dakota answered a little too quickly. Kamilah narrowed her eyes and then Dakota sighed and the dam broke.

"See I know you have lived a long time and stuff and that immortality is boring and there isn't much excitement so you get that excitement through sex and all. I understand and I get you and I am not mad- well I am just a itsy bitsy bit jealous but hey its just stupid feelings right?

I mean have you looked at the people you have dated? Serafine? Chef's kiss. Aiko, she is ridiculously wow. They are gorgeous and handsome... Except Gauis 'cause he is a turd I would flush down the toilet. I hate him from the bottom of my heart...BUT- I am getting sidetracked- but the moral of the story is that with you its just a neverending game of 'Guess Who?: Ex edition' and-argh I sound like a jealou-"

Dakota was interrupted when Kamilah kissed her so hard that she became breathless.

"Good, that shut you up." Kamilah smiled but Dakota refused to meet her eyes. Kamilah held Dakota's face in both her hands, forcing her grey eyes to meet her warm, brown chocolate orbs.

"Habibti, I understand where you are coming from. Hell, I know you have had an ex who I for the record, would really like to punch for bulldozing all over you... The thing is that I know and am familiar with the feeling."

Kamilah's thumb caressed Dakota's cheeks and she continued with a small sad smile. "For a long time, I was...afraid to be left alone. Because being alone, my thoughts would usually go to the dark places, which I try to shove inside an overflowing cupboard of sadness and self loathing. So, I would go from one bed to another, for a warm body who I could wake up with, to escape...because the loneliness could be.. overwhelming."

"But you had Gauis. He loved you, right?" Dakota questioned.

"Yeah he did, in his own twisted way. I thought I loved him. But, love is not a manipulation game. Love is not trying to bring out the worst in someone. Love is not forcing to think that you are beyond saving. Love is not a transaction." Kamilah took a deep breath, bracing herself.

"It isn't love if it does not involve you... Dakota, I am utterly and completely in love with you."

There she said those three words, which were slowly eating her up.

Time stopped. Dakota could not breath. it wasn't because of the crushing jealousy. It was beacaue her heart was swelling up with so much love for the egyptian goddess in front of her.

Kamilah just let the words run, straight from her heart. "I am utterly and completely in love with you. You are the light at the end of the tunnel. You are my salvation. You brought light to my cold dark existence. You made me feel things that I have never felt. I love you so much habiti and its okay if you don't say anything. I just couldnt keep it anymore."

Dakota knew her answer. She always knew it deep inside her. Nothing, absolutely nothing could ever stop her from being bloodbound to Kamilah.

"I love you, Kami. Its a fact just like the sun rises in the east, there is day after night, similiarly Dakota loves Kamilah for forever."

Kamilah's face broke into a humongous smile. "You don't know what a happy woman you have made me. I feel like the most invincible person. I feel like climbing up on top the tallest building and screaming with joy that you belong to me. My love. My habibti."

Dakota pressed her lips to Kamilah's soft ones for a chaste and tender kiss.

Kamilah hugged Dakota and spun her around in her arms. Dakota just laughed with joy. She would not trade anything for this moment.

#choices stories we play #playchoices #choices #choices stories you play #pixelberry #choices bb #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound 3 #bloodbound #bloodbound mc #bb one shot

107 notes · View notes

im-a-goner-foryou · 5 years

Text

Starker Valentine's Day 2019 for the prompt 'first I love you's ', this is also my first songfic so please go easy on me

Love

/lʌv/

Wise men say only fools rush in

Tony Stark doesn't do love. He's a mechanic, through and through-- he sees things as they are, for their practical uses, views the world through a rational lens, and love is something entirely illogical.

Love, as Tony had been taught all those years ago, is something that if he can't help but feel, at least shouldn't be expressed. To wear your emotions on your sleeve is to admit weakness, as Howard had said-- or rather slurred while waving off Tony's attempt at a goodnight hug in favour of pouring himself another glass of bourbon, and after much more similar occurrences the he eventually took his father's words to heart.

It takes a while for Tony to realise otherwise, to go from instinctively recoiling from the look of concern in Rhodey's eyes as he chides "go to sleep Tones, it's late" or a gentle caress of his head from Pepper, to slowly but surely welcoming those silent acts of love; and it takes longer before he begins to reciprocate. Even then he's hesitant, cautious as he takes his first steps and reverting back to his signature snark at the first sign of apathy, the possibility of being hurt.

Tony loves carefully.

But I can't help falling in love with you

Then he meets Peter Parker-- who loves so openly, so easily. And their differences should frighten Tony, yet inexplicably he finds himself drawn to this boy who's much too young to realise that while falling in love may be easy, love itself certainly isn't. It's... a nice change, being around someone so artlessly candid-- maybe, just maybe-- Tony hopes silently to himself, he won't have to hide behind his usual four walled defences this time against such genuine feelings.

Shall I stay?

The first time Peter raises his voice at him is to cry "if you even cared, you'd actually be here," and just like that Tony's taken back to all those years ago, in his MIT graduation gown and around the same age Peter is now; hand clutched tightly around his phone with Howard on the other end while he stood lonesome among celebrating families. That memory stings like a slap would, leaves Tony feeling almost raw-- and when he steps out of his armour there on the rooftop, he feels more vulnerable than he ever has been.

"I just wanted to be like you," the boy whispers quiet enough for his words to be almost blown away with the wind, and it's like a sucker punch to Tony's stomach.

"I wanted you to be better," Tony simply replies Peter-- and himself.

Would it be a sin

Tony feels the beginnings of a wave of butterflies erupting in his stomach as he watches the boy leave the Avengers compound, and he feels sick. Peter's hazel hair glints gold under the sunlight streaming through the panelled windows and curls sweetly around his ears; and Tony has to resist the sudden and overwhelming urge that overtakes him then to run his fingers through those silky locks.

If I can't help falling in love with you?

Peter is sixteen. Tony starts drinking himself to sleep once more, yet the bottles of liquor lying shattered around him and burning bitter at the back of his throat aren't enough to block out the yearning deep in him for the boy, to hold him close and keep him far away at the same time. Tony thinks of bright eyes that crinkle at the edges with laughter and beautiful chocolate-brown pupils, and then one day he just can't deny the feelings he harbours for his young protégé any longer.

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Peter always has been incredibly perceptive; it's likely he found out how Tony felt even before Tony himself. On his seventeenth birthday the man goes all out and is in one of the rare moments in his life grateful for the title 'billionare'-- he flies the both of them out to one of his favourite restaurants in Venice for a comfortable candlelit dinner by the canal; and when Peter dissolves into another one of that giggly laughter at something Tony said, the older man finds himself absolutely enthralled, unable to look away.

He's still staring at those pouty, rosy pink lips and wondering how they would feel against his, when he finds out only seconds later-- Peter makes the first move, leaning forward across their table to press their mouths together so painfully shy and sweet, and Tony--

Some things are meant to be

He kisses back, and feels the last of his fortifications crumble away at the happy little sigh Peter exhales into their joined mouths.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you

Tony Stark soon learns about himself that he's really a hopeless fool for love, when it comes to a certain bright boy who easily keeps up with him in the workshop and challenges Tony with his brilliance every day, who reminds him to go to sleep early but also brings him hot chocolate during those particularly dark starless nights and kisses away his tears until they finally fall asleep tangled up together, who's also a dork when it comes to Star Wars and the Avengers, who has a heart filled to the brim and yet still manages to find the capacity, is unafraid to love some more.

It probably was never meant to last, the hurting eight-year-old in Tony reminds him.

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

"There was no other way," Stephen's parting words hang heavy in the still air; dimly Tony wishes the words were the ones disintegrating instead, his knees buckling underneath his weight even before he hears the soft whimper from behind him. No, no, no.

Not you, too.

Peter wastes his last few moments clutching at him desperately, and Tony just wants to cry because there's nothing he can do, and he's never felt so utterly helpless as he does in this moment. "I don't-- I don't know what's happening," the boy rasps, the usual bright undertones of his voice now longer present and only to be replaced with something raw and hurting; it's now does it finally occur to Tony that maybe he's not the only one who puts on a mask.

"I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go..." Peter begs almost childishly, his extreme youth so incredibly obvious now. Tony grips him by the waist, holds him close and cradles him through it, which is the least he can do-- the only thing he can do. The eerie golden light setting across this strange planet casts shadows on those beautiful eyes, swimming with tears as they look at Tony in a way only the boy could.

"I'm sorry," are the last words Peter whispers--why, why?-- before slipping away from Tony's arms and leaving behind a mere empty shell of a broken man.

Tony realises he's never said those three little words to Peter, even though their months together; he never gasped the significance of "I love you" until he thinks he'll never be able to say it.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

"I'm sorry," are the words that replay like a broken recorder in his dying mind, plauging him the most when Tony sits alone on that barren planet and ignores the warning signals from the spaceship that oxygen levels are running low. I'm sorry, too.

But with those oxygen-deprived hallucinations come memories too; of them both dancing in the corner of one of Tony's fancy fundraisers, the boy's arms clinging around his shoulders and head resting on his chest as they sway to the soft music in the background, of Peter falling asleep at the desk after working hard on a particularly difficult assignment and Tony draping a blanket over him, of late drives down the highway in a convertible so Peter's yells of joy fade away into the night, of waking up in the morning to the smell of coffee and the sight of Peter in a flowery pink apron bustling around the kitchen, and Tony walking up to him to whirl him around by a hand on his hip to kiss him soft and sweet.

Through his entire life, there's only one person that Tony's certain he's ever loved the most he could. And now Tony tries his best to bring him back.

It's a long arduous process for sure, but Tony after all, is a mechanic through and through. He fixes the spaceship to send him and Nebula to earth, and he defends it just like he always has-- he fights, mind clinging to thoughts of Peter; just in case he doesn't make it, he wants that endlessly loving gaze to be the last thing he sees.

They win in the end, and bring all the fallen back. Even as Tony stumbles weakly onto his feet he ignores the burning sharp pain at his side, heart racing, eyes already blurring with tears-- though despite them he still manages to catch sight of those chestnut brown wide eyes among the others, and he doesn't hesitate. Tony sprints towards and holds a weeping Peter close to his chest, clutching at him with the intention of never letting go; his heart aches with a feeling that he welcomes readily, croaks into the boy's ear.

"I love you." He fiercely kisses Peter; the boy sobs harder in his arms. "I love you," Tony finally expresses plainly, against the palm pressed reverently against his lips.

For I can't help falling in love with you

And Peter says it back, the way every single part of Tony knew he would. "I love you too."

Love, Tony Stark knows, is illogical. It hurts, and yet people still chase it so eagerly.

But love is worth it.

For I can't help falling in love with you

#starker #starkervalentinesday2019 #well i tried i guess #sorry if this isn't coherent i wrote it emotional and exhausted at 3am #also have i mentioned the weakness i have for elvis presley #anywho #peter x tony #drabble #angst #songfic #fluff

326 notes · View notes

dragaoel · 5 years

Text

Jun'ichirō, aka Jun (- Silverdell)

the volume of the radio slowly dwindles down and only static noise is left to be heard

"those are dangerous words"

"not for him " Anja replies, her head laying on her outstretched arm that's on the table , her whole posture the embodiment of laziness. "loved ones always have it easier here"

"Not always" Jun says grimly and glances out of the window" it's because he's an outsider that he's allowed more freedom than any of us"

"aren't you a loved one too?"

Jun sighs deeply and turns towards the albino girl. For a second ,pain , frustration and a hint of panic can be seen in his eyes before it vanishes. He lets out a bitter laugh.

"and you saw where that lead me to,half dead in a ditch"

INTRODUCTION JUN :

half japanese half black

has waist long black thick hair and brown skin

has a ‘’prince in anguish’’ aura but masks it with him being over the top ridiculous and dramatic

is 5′11

born 12th october (libra)

‘‘the risk i took was calculated, but man, am i bad at math’‘

Jun is my favourite character, i made him on a whim as a side character in a old story and then i started using him more and more as a background character until i realized the potential he had. He's also one of the character whom i put into a lot of different aus, the most favourite one was where he was a vampire who loved laying in the garden and eat roses all day

Rukiya (-Though the god’s have left)

‘‘i have dreams about them’‘ Rukiya says and plucks a string on her bass. The deep note rumbles through the room and her short curls moves along as she drops her head lower

‘‘i'm high in the sky, looking down onto a land that seems oh so familiar, with people screaming at me asking me to help them’‘

‘’do you understand them? ‘’ a band member asks

‘‘weirdly i do’‘ Rukiya answers ‘‘ it seems to be in my native language but also not, as if it was way before everything happened, you know, the ancient time’‘

INTRODUCTION RUKIYA :

Out of the both of them Rukiya is the older twin by 4 minutes

she’s also the artsy one than her sister whos into sports

wears black literally 24/7 and has dark circles despite sleeping enough

is 5′9

is black (kenyan)

mole on the left side of her cheek

fluent in her native tongue kiswahili

Majors in Film

loves anything that has to do with space nd aliens

born 24th january (aquarius)

has a sweet tooth

*cocks gun* ‘’basements haunted’’

i like the idea of twins that are completely the opposite of each other. Rukiya just like Imara have a big chunk of my personality in them, it's just that i lean more towards Rukiya than Imara.

Akiho (-Though the god’s have left)

Kneeling down, she cocks her head to the side, her eyes cold and her lips pressed into a thin line ‘’ dont think your actions won't have consequences’’ she sneers ‘’ the next time i see you harassing another girl again i'll make you wish you were never born’’

Akiho dusts herself , picks up the bat , glances one last time at the boy laying on the floor and walks away, the echoes of her shoes the only noise to be heard

INTRODUCTION AKIHO :

is 5′4

majors in theater

her fashion style is y2k

is the other one of the dumbass duo

has freckles on her nose

is japanese

doesn't like sweet things usually eats traditional sweets made by her mom or things that are sour/bitter, but salty food has to be spicy asf

born, 14th april (aries)

her side teeth are really pointy

has long peach colored straight hair

‘‘I’d sell you to satan for one corn chip’‘

Akiho comes from a family of 3, she's the youngest sibling and she has that energy. She likes to play with her oldest brother children, doesn't want any on her own though. will fight anyone who is disrespectful, esp towards women

Hyunjin (-Though the god’s have left)

The tall girl slumps her body onto her girlfriend shoulder, watching her fry the fish in the pan into charcoal. Hyunjin wrinkles her nose in a attempt to push the glasses up without having to actually touch them, before she sighs deeply.

‘‘Just-’‘ she starts and softly takes ‘‘let me do it, otherwise you'll burn the kitchen down like last time’‘

Praveena puffs her cheeks up ‘’that actually wasn't my fault, it was the gasherd-’’

‘‘i know i know’‘ Hyunjin chuckles and kisses her cheek ‘‘but i have a exam tomorrow and i would like not not have an indigestion’‘ she frowns and flips the fish over and sighs. It seems the fish can’t be saved anymore.

INTRODUCTION HYUNJIN :

korean

has short dyed blue hair, but the back part is longer than the front part.

is ‘5′10

majors in engineering technology

born 14th may (taurus)

has literally no sense of style and wears glasses cause she has a slight astigmatism that you can't really see

has a mole next to her right eye

‘‘a financially unstable mess but at the liquor store they call me ma’am’‘

honestly out of all the characters i draw hyunjin the most. In the beginning she had shoulder length but then i shortened it because i liked it more. She's an only child and her mother runs a bakery while her father works in a office. She's the calm type that's constantly tired because she never sleeps

Praveena (-Though the god’s have left)

She shuffles the cards and lays them out on the table. The customers sees the fool, the moon and the star. Praveena touches them with her fingertips ‘’ you seem to be either at the beginning or at the end of a new journey ’’ she pauses and thinks ‘’but either way you're prepared for what is to come’’

The customers nods ‘’i'm soon moving away from this city’’

‘‘I see’‘ Praveena counters and points at the next card ‘‘the moon indicates that you’re hesitant and fearful in your decision, there might be something from the past that is holding you back and influencing you in the present and possibly the future

the customer tenses up, her eyes fixed on the card and her lips tight

‘‘though’‘ Praveena continues ‘‘at the end you’ll be at peace and glad that you pushed through all the turbulences

INTRODUCTION PRAVEENA :

tamil ,dark skin with long wavy violet dyed hair

Hyunjin’s girlfriend

has calm energy but is also very erratic

loves astrology & tarot

majors in psychology

5′5

born 20 july (cancer)

has droopy eyes

‘‘god cant help you now’‘

i made praveena cause i wanted a harmonious wlw couple, that have that ‘’old married pair’’ plus out of all the ocs those two are the ones that i drew first. Praveena has the tendency to blow things up how though is a mystery and hyunjin always has to clean up everything.

Imara (-Though the god’s have left)

‘‘no listen, it doesn't make sense why would you wear a bra and some tight ass pants knowing you’re about to fight people who have knives and GUNS?’’ Imara asks perturbed.

‘‘Cause men are horny’‘ Rukiya retorts and raises an eyebrow

‘‘still doesn't make sense like wow!, some fucking boobs, like really? really? is that what gets you going? just some breast pressed up in a bra that is too damn tight and a flat stomach on a skinny ass girl that has absolute no muscles despite the training she went through?

Rukiya sighs ‘’ is this about-’’

‘‘lara croft yes’‘ Imara interrupts and slams her finger on the table ‘‘and im going to die on this hill that men shouldn't be allowed to create games!’‘

INTRODUCTION IMARA:

plays games a lot, esp the loz series

has curly dyed blonde hair that's mostly tied in a ponytail or a bun because she cant be bothered with it, though rukiya helps her all the time cause she never really learned how to deal with curly hair.

Is on a baseball sponsorship because she's that good (she's a pitcher)

is totally tone deaf unlike her twin

isnt good with crows ie: strangers crowding around her after her team won a game

is kenyan

5′9

has a mole next to her upper lips on the left side

loves 90's rnb & hip hop music

‘‘he proclaimed his undying love and asked me to do the same, i had to overcome my desire to laugh’‘

Imara does have a slight complex about being a twin because she feels like Rukiya is the cooler one despite people loving her too. She's loud and boisterous basically a chad, but better. She's dorky and literally spends her free time gaming but she doesn't just play any game shes v specific when it comes to that. Her mom always has a headache because of her but thats okay but in the end her mom loves her to death.

Ava (-Though the god’s have left)

‘’do you you know how much it's sucks that at the end of all of this , i'm the one waiting for them?’’ Ava exclaims ‘’that i'm the one who will have to watch them go through the door to be evaluated? that i'm ultimately the end?

‘‘you’re not all alone-’‘

‘‘you don't understand’’ Ava interrupts, as she points at the short girl ‘’ i will have to watch my mom, my family that raised me go through that door and know that that will be the last time i will see them in that body!’’

INTRODUCTION AVA:

She’s haitian

keeps her hair in a short chin length dark blue bob

majors in sociology

she and akiho are the ‘’comedy duo’’ of the group

is 5′6

born 4th november (scorpio)

‘‘my only crime was that i was down to clown’‘

When i make akiho i felt like she needed a companion so i made ava, both of them were inspired by the early 2000 shows characters. Although Ava likes to goof around she's also very studious and serious about her future. She comes from a family of 6 and she’s the second oldest. She and her older sister fight constantly

Nïrnaya (Dawn over the horizon)

‘‘Magic’‘ the elf stars, her tall stature hunched over the herbs ‘’ is in the nature we’re surrounded in, in the mountains that stand high and the rivers that flow into the deep sea’’

she straightens up and walks over to Nïrnaya ‘’ we might lose everything.’’ She pokes the girl on the forehead ‘’but magic will forever stay with you because its the core of your being‘’

INTRODUCTION NÏRNAYA :

shes a mischievous 15 year old

has black curly long hair that are mostly braided

does not want to do this whole adventure thing because of how it reminds her too much of the ‘’chosen one trope’’ and thats too much responsibilities

born during the year of the earth dragon

‘‘snacking between meals is the least, but tastiest, of my problems’‘

i came up with this story and character because i wanted a book where a black girl for once was the main character, where she could experience the same thing as other mc (ie eragon etc) basically i wanted black representation in a medieval-esque world but with my own spin because the world itself is not very western like

#writeblr #character introduction #original character #writer #hua's word #writers on tumblr #writeblr community #character intro post #oc moodboard

6 notes · View notes