#and that's a wrap on 30 days of prodigy! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamauri · 3 days ago

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♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part eleven max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ( fluff ) series summary . . . when the lives of an f1 and WEC prodigies collide, they find out they find out that they’re not that different and carve out a place for themselves in each other's hearts. the commentators from Sky Sports call this Lovers Rock.

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fic summary . . . early mornings bring quiet moments of comfort as you and max start your day with a run along the river, the dogs in tow and the city still asleep. later, the paddock buzzes with curiosity, but max’s calm denial of dating rumors leaves you giggling softly behind him. as the rain-soaked le mans takes a devastating turn, a brutal crash shatters the night

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The early morning light was barely a whisper in the sky when Max stirred beside you. You felt the shift in the bed as he stretched, his body warm and familiar against yours for a fleeting moment before he sat up.

“Where are you going?” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Bathroom,” he said softly, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your temple.

You groaned as you heard his footsteps pad away, already missing his warmth. When the faint sound of running water reached your ears, you sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist.

Max emerged a moment later, his hair slightly mussed, and paused at the sight of you. “Couldn’t wait, could you?” he teased, his voice low and amused as he walked over.

You blinked up at him, your hair wild and your eyes half-closed. “I was waiting for you,” you said, your tone both soft and stubborn.

Max chuckled, brushing his fingers through your hair in an attempt to tame it. “You look like a sleepy lion,” he murmured, his blue eyes warm with affection.

“Go back to sleep,” he added, his hand lingering against your cheek.

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms. “I’m already awake.”

Max raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Instead, he smirked. “Alright then. Let’s go for a run.”

“At 5:30?” you asked, groaning dramatically as you flopped back against the pillows.

“Yes,” Max said with a grin, pulling the blankets off you. “Come on, it’ll be nice. We’ll take the dogs.”

You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed as Marshmallow perked up from his spot on the floor, his tail wagging in excitement. Sauce, on the other hand, barely opened an eye from his cozy spot in the corner.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered, pulling on a hoodie and switching it to wear backward so you could place Sauce in the hood. The little dachshund settled in quickly, his tiny face poking out over your shoulder as he yawned.

“Ready?” Max asked, slipping his arm around your waist as you clipped Marshmallow’s leash onto his collar.

“Not really,” you said, but you smiled anyway.

The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint smell of dew and the promise of sunrise. The city was quiet, still wrapped in its slumber, as you and Max jogged along the river. Marshmallow kept pace effortlessly, his ears flopping with every step, while Sauce seemed content to ride along in your hood, his tiny nose twitching at the scents in the air.

The sound of your footsteps was steady, mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft lapping of water against the shore. Max glanced at you, his eyes catching the golden glow of the horizon.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his voice low and quiet in the early morning stillness.

You nodded, adjusting Sauce slightly as you jogged. “Yeah. I forgot how peaceful mornings like this can be.”

Max smiled, his pace slowing just enough so that he was running beside you rather than slightly ahead. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Just us, no noise.”

You hummed in agreement, the silence between you comfortable and easy. Every now and then, your arm would brush against his, and neither of you pulled away.

As you rounded a bend, the faint sound of laughter reached your ears. Ahead, a couple jogged in the opposite direction, their matching neon jackets standing out against the soft gray of the morning.

“Bon matin!” the man called out cheerfully as they passed. His partner grinned, adding something in rapid Quebec French that neither you nor Max understood.

You both slowed, exchanging a bemused glance.

“Did you catch any of that?” you asked, your breath puffing in the cool air.

“Not a word,” Max said with a grin, his cheeks slightly flushed from the run—or maybe the morning chill.

“They sounded encouraging, though?” you offered, biting back a laugh.

Max chuckled, his hand brushing against yours before he reached over and laced your fingers together briefly. “Let’s just pretend they said we’re doing great.”

You smiled, warmth spreading through you as you gave his hand a squeeze. “We are doing great,” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the sound of the river.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The paddock buzzed as you stepped out of the car, the familiar roar of F1 life surrounding you. Marshmallow trotted beside you, his leash held loosely in your hand as Sauce peeked out from the crook of your other arm. Max walked a step ahead, his pace casual but commanding, his presence impossible to miss.

“Yn! Max! Are you two dating?” someone from the media called out, cameras flashing as they moved in closer.

You didn’t even have time to respond before Max, ever composed, answered smoothly. “No,” he said with a small smile, glancing briefly toward the reporters. “We’re just friends. The person I was filmed with is my actual girlfriend.”

The words hung in the air for a beat, and though you didn’t laugh outright, a soft giggle escaped you as you fell in step behind him, watching the absurdity of his deadpan delivery.

“Really, Max?” you teased quietly, your voice laced with amusement as you adjusted Marshmallow’s leash. “Your actual girlfriend?”

Max glanced back at you, his expression unchanging save for the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “What?” he said casually, his blue eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment.

You shook your head, the corners of your mouth curling into a grin. Marshmallow tugged lightly on the leash, breaking the moment as you both continued down the paddock, your quiet giggles barely audible over the hum of activity around you. Max didn’t say anything further, just tilted his head slightly, his gaze warm and fond as he watched you from the corner of his eye.

The day after the race, you sat across from Max at a quaint restaurant, Lando to your left. It had started as a group breakfast, but somehow the others had been “too busy,” leaving just the three of you.

The little café was warm and bustling with life, a pleasant contrast to the early morning chill outside. The scent of fresh coffee and sweet crepes filled the air as you sat across from Max, the faint clink of silverware and quiet chatter creating an almost cozy backdrop.

The two of you were mid-bite, reaching for your drinks simultaneously, when Lando groaned from his spot beside you. “Do you two have to look like that?” he asked, pointing his fork between you and Max with a look of exaggerated disgust.

“Like what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you took a sip from your mug.

“Like . . . that,” he said again, gesturing vaguely at the both of you. “All synchronized and lovey-dovey. It’s disgusting.”

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “We’re just eating, Lando.”

“Yeah, Lan,” Max chimed in, his tone completely deadpan as he meticulously buttered his crepe, making you give him a look of deep confusion and disbelief. “No one’s stopping you from eating too.”

Lando huffed dramatically, throwing his head back for emphasis before stabbing at his plate with his fork. “You two are insufferable,” he muttered, though the twitch of his lips betrayed the faintest hint of amusement.

Max cut into his crepe, taking a bite before letting out a small, satisfied hum. “This is so good,” he said, his blue eyes lighting up. “Yn, you need to try this.”

He sliced off another piece, loading it onto his fork before holding it out toward you. You leaned forward slightly, but before you could take the bite, Lando threw his hands up.

“Oh, come on!” he groaned, his voice tinged with exasperation. “Do you have to make it look like a bloody rom-com scene?”

Max quirked an eyebrow, unfazed. “We’re just sharing food, Lando.”

“Yeah, Lando,” you teased, your tone playful as you gave him a pointed look. “It’s called being generous. You should try it sometime.”

With that, you leaned in again, this time holding a mock “mit bite” pose as you took the bite from Max’s fork. Your lips closed delicately around the fork, your expression turning thoughtful as you tasted the sweet, buttery crepe.

“Wow,” you said, your voice muffled as you finished chewing. “That is good.”

Max’s lips twitched into a proud smile. “Told you,” he said, his tone smug but affectionate.

Lando groaned louder, slumping dramatically in his chair. “I’m surrounded by lunatics.”

You and Max exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter, the sound filling the space around you. Lando’s exaggerated sulking only made you laugh harder, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you leaned against the table for support.

“Why do I even hang out with you two?” Lando muttered, his voice barely audible over your laughter.

“Because you love us,” you managed to say between giggles, wiping at your eyes.

Max chuckled, reaching over to nudge Lando’s plate closer to him. “Eat your crepes, Lan. Maybe they’ll make you less grumpy.”

Lando shot him a glare but picked up his fork anyway, muttering something about being stuck with the world’s most obnoxious couple.

max verstappen posted a story to their Instagram

replies . . .

yn.halimi i thought I said no dogs on the bed? ⤷ maxverstappen your kids deserve the luxury of a bed ⤷ yn.halimi sauce has his own bed 💀?? ⤷ yn.halimi don't spoil my kids verstappen ⤷ maxverstappen go back to calling me maxie ⤷ yn.halimi verstappen

The 24 hours of Le Mans Circuit de la Sarthe, Sarthe, France

The rain fell in relentless sheets, the night sky heavy and unyielding as the world blurred around you. The Ferrari roared beneath your hands, every vibration, every turn, an extension of your will. You were in the lead, the car dancing through the slick track, but it wasn’t without a fight.

"Box this lap," your engineer said suddenly over the radio.

“No,” you snapped back, your voice sharp with frustration. “I’m not boxing now. The tires are fine for another stint.”

There was a pause, and then the voice of the team principal cut in, calm but firm. “Yn, we’re seeing significant degradation. Trust us.”

You clenched your jaw, taking the next corner with precision despite the slickness. “Trust you? Like I trusted you when you left me out in Spa last year? No, I’m staying out. I can manage.”

The silence was charged, the tension palpable even through the crackling radio.

“Fine. But be cautious. There are slower cars ahead,” the engineer finally relented, his tone begrudging.

“Then give me better updates,” you shot back, weaving around a backmarker with ease. “Stop telling me the obvious.”

The rain intensified, the visibility worsening. Your knuckles tightened on the wheel as you approached a cluster of cars. The engineer’s voice broke through again, this time clipped with urgency.

“Traffic ahead, two cars. Careful through sector three.”

You exhaled sharply, adjusting your line as the headlights of the lapped cars came into view. “Got it.”

But they didn’t mention the chaos waiting for you.

Just as you cleared the first car, the flicker of spinning taillights caught your eye. Ahead, a GMT car had lost control, its rear fishtailing wildly before slamming into the barriers. Debris exploded onto the track, shards glinting under the glare of headlights.

“Big crash ahead!” your engineer shouted, his voice cutting through the rain.

“Why didn’t you warn me earlier?” you yelled, your heartbeat thundering as you swerved to avoid the wreck. The car skidded, the tires screaming against the soaked asphalt, but you managed to hold your line.

Relief was fleeting.

The first hit came without warning. A car behind you failed to brake in time, slamming into your rear with bone-jarring force. Your Ferrari spun violently, the world outside a blur of rain and headlights.

“Yn!” your engineer’s voice was frantic, but you couldn’t respond.

The second hit was from the side, the impact wrenching the wheel from your hands and sending pain lancing through your ribs as the restraints dug in. The car groaned under the strain, your vision blurring as adrenaline surged through your veins.

And then the third hit.

It came from the unmistakable red of the Ferrari GTM car. The collision was devastating, the force catapulting you into the barriers. The crunch of carbon fiber, the shattering of glass, the deafening screech of metal grinding against metal—it all blurred together into a cacophony of destruction.

For a brief, horrifying moment, the car lifted off the ground before slamming back down, the final jolt stealing the breath from your lungs.

Everything was still.

The world was a blur of chaos and rain. Everything tilted and shifted violently as the final impact flipped the car, leaving you suspended upside down in the cockpit. Time slowed, each second stretching into an eternity as you hung there, trapped. Blood rushed to your head, disorienting you further, and the tight confines of the cockpit felt like they were closing in.

You tried to breathe, but every gulp of air felt shallow, forced, like the walls were pressing against your chest. Your vision blurred, the flickering lights around you casting strange, disjointed shadows. The faint sound of the rain against the chassis mixed with your ragged breaths and the distant static of the radio.

“Yn, talk to me,” your engineer’s voice came through, garbled and far away, like he was shouting from underwater. “Yn!”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat, swallowed by the suffocating silence around you. Every attempt to move was met with resistance—the straps digging into your shoulders, the restraints pinning you in place. Your hands fumbled with the harness, trembling and weak, but it was like your body had forgotten how to respond.

Panic began to creep in, sharp and cold, as you realized just how stuck you were. The world outside the car was a foreign concept, unreachable and distant. You closed your eyes tightly, willing the suffocating weight in your chest to subside. You counted your breaths, each one shallow and labored, the taste of metal and burnt rubber lingering in the back of your throat.

Finally, after what felt like hours but could have been seconds, you heard voices—urgent and muffled, growing louder as hands worked to pry open the wreckage. The cockpit shifted as the marshals managed to force an opening, fresh air rushing in and mixing with the acrid smell of fuel and smoke.

“Hang on, Yn. We’ve got you,” one of them said, their voice steady but distant.

You barely registered the words as strong arms pulled you free. The moment your body was released from the harness, gravity took over, and your legs buckled beneath you. You collapsed onto the wet asphalt, your knees scraping against the rough surface as the cold rain mingled with the warmth of your tears.

The helmet felt suffocating, the weight of it pressing down like a vice. Your shaking hands fumbled with the latch before finally ripping it off. The rush of cold air was a shock to your system, but it did little to ground you. Your head swam, nausea rising rapidly until you leaned forward, retching violently onto the rain-slicked ground.

“Easy,” a marshal said softly, steadying you with a firm but gentle grip. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

But breathing felt impossible. Each inhale was shallow, catching in your throat as the adrenaline coursing through your veins gave way to a crushing numbness. Your limbs were heavy, uncooperative, as if they no longer belonged to you. The world around you was a dull hum of voices and lights, distant and unreachable.

In the pits, Max had been watching, pride swelling with every lap you dominated. His chest puffed with quiet admiration as you carved through the field like it was second nature. And then the crash.

The moment the screen lit up with the image of your car flipping, his heart dropped. He stood frozen for a beat, disbelief warring with panic, before he shot out of his seat.

“What the hell happened? Is she okay?” he demanded, his voice sharp and frantic, cutting through the noise in the garage.

“She’s out of the car,” someone said, but the words did nothing to ease the tight knot in his chest.

Max’s eyes stayed glued to the monitor, his breath shallow as he watched the marshals pull you from the wreckage. The sight of you collapsing onto the track, trembling and disoriented, made his stomach twist painfully. The way you clutched your knees, your helmet discarded beside you, shattered something inside him.

“Yn…” he whispered, barely audible, his voice breaking as his hands gripped the edge of the console. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe as the overwhelming helplessness settled over him. You were always so strong, so invincible—and now, you looked so small.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The hospital room was dim, the faint hum of machines filling the silence. You were propped up in bed, your phone resting against your knees as the wrap-up of the race played on the screen. Ferrari was celebrating—a podium and a team win—while you sat there, a deep frown etched on your face.

Outside, Max stood stiffly as the doctor ran through your diagnosis. Concussion. A broken rib. Bruises that painted a painful story across your skin. Each word made his stomach twist, guilt and worry gnawing at him. He nodded absently, his focus already drifting toward your room.

When he walked in, the sight of you staring at your phone made him stop in his tracks. “Yn,” he called, his voice soft but stern.

You jumped, the phone nearly slipping from your hands as you looked up at him. “Max! You scared me,” you exclaimed, quickly trying to hide the device under the blanket.

He sighed, walking over and plucking it from your grasp despite your weak protests. “You’re not supposed to be on this,” he said, his tone more exasperated than angry. “The doctor said no screens.”

Your lips trembled, your frustration bubbling over. “I just—” You gestured toward the phone. “I needed to see.”

Max’s expression softened as he saw the mix of anger and sadness in your eyes. He set the phone aside, crouching beside the bed so his face was level with yours. “I get it,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “But you need to rest, schat.”

You sniffled, looking away. “Every year, Max. Every year something happens. I just… I just want to go home.”

His heart clenched at the broken tone in your voice. “I know,” he said gently, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “And we will. Soon. But right now, you need to heal.”

You didn’t say anything, just leaned into his touch as he sat on the edge of the bed. Max pulled you into his arms carefully, mindful of your injuries, his hand stroking your hair. “You’re not alone in this, Yn. I’m here. Always,” he whispered, his voice steady and reassuring.

A small, tired smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Maxie.”

“Always,” he repeated, holding you a little closer.

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lovelijooni · 29 days ago

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“CRASHING DOWN”

Lady Uchiha.

Chap. 1, 2, .. .. ..

⚠️ this book contains: angst,fluff, swearing, violence.

Read on Wattpad here

⇝shame、 mitski.

0:5:22 ━━❍─────4:31

"Cmon sasuke let's get to playing before it's too dark!!" The young girl giggled taking the raven haired boys hand in hers as she carelessly ran through the Uchiha compound. The sun still high in the sky, awaiting for their great day ahead. His eyes glimmered as he gave in to the pull of the energetic girl running along with her giggling and laughing like a child. A happy child.

"Hey you two kiddos! Slow down would ya ur gonna knock someone over!"

The old lady scolded from her small shop causing their running to halt as they let out an embarrassed giggle slowing their pace. "Alright granny!" They snickered as the elder shook her head, remembering her young days. Watching the two kids chatter as amongst themselfs. Walking with a little bit of pep in their step.

"You know I can't wait to become a kunoichi! I hope I'll be just as good as my daddy."

The girl beamed at the slightly taller boy.

"Yeah! My brothers a prodigy I can't wait to surpass him." He said with determination in his eyes looking at the path forward. "Sasu-" she stopped walking as she looked at the ground seemingly deep in thought.

"Yea?" He questioned. Concern writen on his face. "Do you, pinky promise to never forget me? Can we be best friends forever?" Pleading eyes looked back at him as a light blush brushed upon his soft features. "Of course n/n. Pinky promise." He smiled shyly inter locking their pinky's. Her face lightened up as she began to approached their special tree. It was a wisteria that stood tall with thick trunk. Intricate weaves of stems and roots made the atmosphere feel ethereal. It rested its long life On an island within a small lake.

The two balance on the large roots that stick up from under the lake to make it to the island. "Hm what should we do.. hmm. I know! Hide in seek. Do u wanna hide or seek first?" She asked anticipating his answer. "I guess I'll hide first" he smiled as she began to count down from 30. He soon found a hiding spot in a tree that had an unusual opening in its trunk.

"Ready or not hear I come!!" She exclaimed as her small voice rang through the forest beginning her search for Sasuke. She remembers what direction she heard his footsteps from and taking that path she hears giggling from inside a tree. Smugly snickering she sneaks up behind the mysterious tree and-

"Boo!"

He jumped from out of the tree. Wrapping his arms around her as they giggled. Pulling her to the ground they laughed hard rolling around as they hugged. The sun began to set. Golden sun rays beamed through the cracks of the forest. Shining down on the two. He takes second to admire your laughing features as in a dazed he is suddenly broken free from a voice.

"Brother. It's time to come home."

A male voice demanded. Your childish banter proves your stopped as Sasukes smile dropped. Hurriedly standing from his stop and dusting off his dark clothes. Stunned u remain on the ground watching as sasukes brother itachi began to walk away sasuke along with him. "Well I'll see you tomorrow n/n" he grunted lowly. "Well uh.. bye sasuke!" She hesitated. Met with a soft hand wave from sasuke. Not daring to glance back at her.

His brother alway gave her the heebje jeebies. Sure he was cute and strong but she would make sure to steer clear of him. Sighing to herself as she makes her way to her home.

"Momma papa I'm home!!" She yelled. Beginning a search for her mom and dad. The smell of dinner filling her nostrils as she happily made her way to the kitchen.

"Welcome back honey- your home earlier than usual did something happen?" She questioned raising a brow at the small girl "yea.. assumes brother came and scooped him away from me. You know he'd been doing that often I wonder what he's busy with." She wondered speaking her thoughts out loud. "Well he is on a path to be a very strong Ninja he must be training" she said. Handing the h/c haired girl a bowl of soup she made her own. Sitting across from her. Saying grace before the dig in. She watches as her daughter sips on the soup happily. Doing a little food dance she giggled "mommy why are u staring at me?" She asked. A fond grin washed on the mother.

"Your just, so special sweetie. Don't let anyone dim your light. My little lady" she teased pinching the girls cheek. Small hands swatting away as the two ruptured into laughter. Finishing her soup she sighed "well I'm full

Mommy I'll see in the morning good night!" She chirped making her way up the stairs. Her mother smiled "see you two sweetheart"

She peeked out of her bedroom window. The house across was sasukes. Watching as he rested his head out of his window she smirked as she saw this as an opportunity. Grabbing a stone from out of one of her mini plants and pelting it across to the bored boy

Mischievously giggling as hes looked for the culprit. She sighed- sneaking into her bed.

The screams. The screams oh where they wretched as the iron sent pang in the back of your throat. in the bathroom she hid. She hid while her parents got slaughtered. "MY DAUGHTER. PLEASE SPARE MY DAUG-" the sound of blood splattering caused whole world to stop. Everything went silent. She stared at her cowardly frame in the mirror. Her eyes. They radiated a raging red. Thick globs of blood ran down her weak body. Whipping her head she heard footsteps.

...

The door crept open. She began to shutter as a male figure slowly stepped in. Like predator and prey. She as frozen in fear. "I-itachi?" She mumbled out. Fear laced him her tone. He raised his kunai in his hand. Lungs that once heaved heavy in her chest came to the halt. She watch as the object came straight for her.

Black.

Squeezing her eyes shut awaiting her inevitable demise she was met with silence. Shaking. Quivering she slightly opened her eyes. She felt the cold metal of the weapon grazing her throat but. It was like it was stuck from its motion. Just at her neck it stood. Time. Time had stopped. In disbelief she moved away from the weapon. Gazing at the wide eye figure of itachi. He couldn't move his body, but his eyes followed her as she hesitantly made her way out of the bathroom.

The scene frozen in time in her kitchen. Her mother played across the floor. Neck sliced as her lifeless body felt cold to the touch. Tracing her fingers around her lifeless skin she untied the ribbon that her mother once wore. Tying the blood stained neck lace round her neck a drop of her bloodied tears fell upon her dead mother. Slowly getting up she looked up.

Her father. His katana pierced through his head. Pining his hanging body to the ceiling. the blood that pooled beneath his body. It displayed a reflection. Her reflection. The reflection of her bright red eyes. Staring right back at her. The uchiha symbol was the one charm that dangled from her neck. Her mother's ribbon. Then she ran. She far through the uchiha compound. Looking as the state the once lively streets she sobbed and kept running.

And ran

And ran.

Until the sun came up. The unfamiliar area she was in was far away from the leaf village. A strong hand stopped her movement. Blood stained face. Body shaking to the touch as the two women looks down at her. "Hun. are you alright? Where are your parents?" She questioned eyes furrowing as she was met with now answer. Sighing she spoke up. "I'm tsunade. A-and this is shizune. What's ur name sweet girl

"M-my name is. Y/n"

#naruto #sasuke uchiha #sasuke x reader #naruto fanfiction #Uchiha #reader insert

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boobo13cambridge · 2 years ago

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I’ll Take Care of You | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: none just angsty and some passionate kissing

Summary: Kylian is feeling stressed as the news that he will not be extending with PSG comes out. He seeks comfort in you.

A/N: Hello, everyone! When I got this request I absolutely adored the idea and wanted to get right to it. As always, please leave me feedback and don’t forget to reblog. I would greatly appreciate it. Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

The sun had long set over the city of Paris, casting an ethereal glow upon the Eiffel Tower as its lights illuminated the darkened sky. In the midst of the bustling city, a heavy atmosphere hung over Kylian Mbappé's lavish apartment. The young football prodigy, renowned for his incredible talent on the field, now found himself at a crossroads that weighed heavily on his heart.

Kylian had spent years with Paris Saint-Germain, captivating fans and leaving a lasting mark on the club. Since his arrival in 2017, he had steered his team to five Ligue 1 titles, secured three French Cup titles, and clinched the coveted Player of the Season award on four occasions. Yet, beneath the surface of success, a storm of discontent brewed within him. He felt betrayed by the club. He wasn't happy with the Mercato, he wasn't happy with the coach, and he was even less happy about practically being threatened by the president of the club that he would never be able to leave. The project that they tried to sell him was all a lie, leaving him consumed by frustration.

Paris was his home, his people, and his beloved city, and he never desired to depart its embrace. But his relentless ambition gnawed at his conscience, whispering that remaining stagnant would be a betrayal to the dreams of the little boy from Bondy who yearned to conquer all. The time had come to draw a line in the sand; he had reached his breaking point. Enough was enough.

As he lay sprawled on the couch, his gaze fixed upon the sprawling Paris skyline, an overwhelming headache descended upon him. It felt as though the weight of the entire world rested squarely upon his shoulders. The relentless media scrutiny only exacerbated his turmoil, incessantly hurling names at him and peddling baseless stories about his character (as if they even knew him), and practically harassing him on social media.

He was just so tired.

The young French captain longed for your presence by his side, but fate had conspired against him as you were working until 6 pm that day. Gazing at his iPhone, he saw that it was merely 5:30 pm, and a sense of dejection washed over him. With a heavy heart, he decided to text you, hoping that he could somehow persuade you to leave early.

Kylian: bébé can u leave early?

Kylian: tu me manques 🙁 (I miss you)

You: aww mon bébé 🙁 (aww my baby)

You: ouvre la porte je suis là 😘 (open the door, I'm here)

Surprised and filled with a glimmer of hope, he swiftly rose from the couch, his anticipation mirrored by the chime of the doorbell. A small smile spread on his fatigued face, as he felt a fraction of the weight burdening his shoulders dissipate.

Opening the door, he felt a sense of relief surge through his body as he saw your smiling face.

"Surprise, Kyky," you said, winking at him. Kylian didn't know what had come over him, but he felt his eyes welling up with tears as he pulled you inside, enveloping himself around you as he kicked the door closed. His heart weighed heavy, and he struggled to control his sobs, burying his face in your hair.

Surprised, you wrapped your arms around him, gently stroking the back of his head. "Mon bébé, what happened? Are you okay? Talk to me, mon cœur."

Hearing your voice only intensified his tears. He yearned to share his innermost thoughts, to unburden his soul, but he found himself unable to articulate the complexities of his emotions. The past few days had been gruelling for him. People knew him as a confident, self-assured individual, seemingly impervious to the world's judgments. He felt they took advantage of that side of him and perhaps his confidence enraged them. He felt that it was unfair that they used that to vilify him at every given opportunity. This time the footballer just couldn’t take it anymore, he had reached his breaking point.

You were filled with worry. Never before had you witnessed Kylian break down in such a way. Even after the heart-wrenching moments of missing a penalty at the Euro or losing the World Cup in Qatar, his composure had remained intact. However, the recent news of his decision not to renew with PSG had evidently struck a nerve far deeper than anticipated. You knew people wouldn’t take it kindly but you didn’t think it was going to be this bad.

"Shh, allez mon amour. Ça va bien aller. I'm here for you," you attempted to console him. Gently pulling back, you held his face between your hands.

The sight that greeted you shattered your heart into a million pieces. Kylian's face was flushed, his cheeks stained with tears. Seeing him in such anguish brought tears to your own eyes. "Ky...," you started, softly wiping away his tears with your thumbs. Shaking his head, Kylian pressed his forehead against yours.

"I can't do this anymore, bébé. Je suis tanné, putain," he cried, gripping your hips tightly, seeking solace and grounding himself in your presence.

"Je sais, mon cœur, je sais," you consoled him, gently guiding him to the couch as he lay down, his head buried in your lap. You caressed his head, your other hand soothingly rubbing his back, placing tender kisses upon his head as you whispered words of comfort.

Gradually, Kylian's sobs subsided, and he lifted his head from your stomach, wiping away his tears as you used a tissue to dab at his runny nose. "Let me get you some water, Ky," you attempted to rise, but Kylian shook his head. "Non, stay please... I just want you to hold me."

"Okay, bébé. Anything you want," you said, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "But please, talk to me, Ky."

Kylian was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, uncertain of where to begin. His emotions and feelings tangled within him, threatening to overwhelm him. It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability. "It feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. Everyone has a fuckin’ opinion about everything I do. If I stay at PSG, I'm a fuckin’ loser who's ruining his career by staying in a farmer's league. If I leave, I'm a traitor who doesn't care about the club, only about money. I can't catch a break, bébé. No matter what I do, I'm always the bad guy, always painted as the fuckin’ villain in whatever fairytale they cook up every week. I feel suffocated, and on top of it all, I feel like a complete piece of shit for dumping all my feelings on you. I've been a shitty fiancé."

“Mon amour, don't say that. You are not a shitty fiancée and I want you to know that I love you so much. Secondly, I want you to talk about your feelings with me because that's what I'm here for. We're in this together bébé. We're a team, and I’ll always be here for you whenever you need me. As for the media, those assholes are just jealous because you’re this confident young man who’s so incredibly talented. They could never hold a candle to you, mon amour. Besides, most of them are just a bunch of racist fucks.”

“I feel like no matter what I chose, people will still make me out to be a bad guy.”

"Bébé, you can't control that. At the end of the day, you have to make the best decision for yourself, and I'll be right by your side through it all."

You gently caressed his cheek, trying to smooth the lines of worry etched upon his forehead.

"Are you sure, bébé? I just..."

"Kylian, mon amour, mon cœur, ma vie. You mean the world to me. Your dreams are my dreams, and your happiness is my happiness. Wherever you decide to go, I'll be right there beside you, every step of the way."

Gazing into your eyes, Kylian's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. These past few years, sharing his life with someone as extraordinary as you had transformed him into the luckiest man to walk the earth. With every beat of his heart, he recognized that you were not just a partner, but the missing piece that completed his very being—the woman he had always yearned for in his wildest dreams.

In an instant, he surrendered to the intensity of his emotions, his hand instinctively finding the curve of your neck. With a gentle yet possessive grip, he drew you closer, erasing the space between your bodies. Their warmth melded, and the world around them faded into insignificance as their lips collided in a moment of fiery passion.

Time seemed to stand still as their mouths moved in a fervent dance, their souls entwining amidst the raw fervor of their connection. It was a kiss that transcended words, conveying depths of love that mere language could never capture. In that single act, Kylian poured his heart and soul into the embrace, a testament to the profound love and desire he held for you.

The taste of his lips, the electric touch of his hands, and the fusion of their breaths ignited a blazing fire within both of them. Each kiss carried an unspoken promise—a vow of unwavering devotion, a pledge to traverse any obstacle that lay in their path. In that fleeting moment, the world existed solely for the two of them, bound by an unbreakable bond that defied all logic and reason.

As you broke apart, your noses nuzzled together. "But, you know, now that you've decided to leave once your contract ends, maybe choose a city with better weather, oui? I absolutely refuse to have our future babies be born in a cold, rainy place."

A soft chuckle escaped Kylian's lips, blending relief with joy. "I was only joking, bébé. I'm not actually going to Manchester United or Liverpool. Don't worry your pretty little head, princesse."

"You better have been joking because there's no way you're dragging me to a whole new country and knocking me up in the frigid cold.”

“Oh, please. You love it when I do you raw, princesse.”

“ Oh yeah? I'll fly right back and give birth to your child in Marseille,” you retorted, cheeks turning red.

"Take that back, bébé. You're not allowed to say that. No child of mine is going to be a Marseillais."

Laughter filled the air, a melody of hope and love. In that moment, you both knew that no matter the challenges ahead, your bond with Kylian was unbreakable. Together, you would face the uncertainties of life, drawing strength from the unwavering support and affection you shared.

As the night progressed, you held each other close, finding solace in the arms of the one who mattered most. And in that embrace, you both understood that regardless of where fate led the brilliant Kylian Mbappé, love would be your guiding light through the storm, ensuring that the journey ahead brimmed with hope, adventure, and an unyielding bond that would endure forever.

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sips-tea-cutely · 2 years ago

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Bathing together for the first time

osamu dazai, chūya nakahara

cw: a lil nsfw, implied sh (osamu), maki strayed off topic and ranted…

@your--local--freak

#Osamu Dazai

despite how flirtatious he is usually, i think he’d only do this really later into the relationship (1 1/2 year?) it’s something dazai considers pretty intimate and we all know how dazai is with intimacy…

would be more into showers? honestly, he doesn’t have a bias. it isn’t cause he’s rushing to work or anything it’s just that a shower has more freedom to tug at your waist and maybe even a quickie before work 🫶

the first time would be after a long mission. after meeting him at cafe uzumaki, you noticed how whiny and exhausted the brunette was. “haah… my legs are like spaghetti~… darling, please carry me~” he groans. arriving home, he flops on the dining table while you start to prepare a bath for him— going all out too; bath salts, aromatherapy candles, im so jealous </33

dragging a whiny detective who is, not to mention 5’9 is not an easy task. “i was re- eh? is—is this for me?!” he exclaimed. “well, yea it’s not like im showing you a bath i made for myself…” you whisper sarcastically, stealing a giggle from the detective. “hm, do you know what would make me the happiest? if you[!] joined me <3. don’t blush like that, you’ve seen me naked plenty of times” he teasingly frowned.

getting into the bath with you, he dips his whole body in, almost as if he’s trying to drown himself… just kidding, dear~! quietly snickering, he moves back up so that most of his chest is visible, dozens of scars on his shoulders and a prominent slash on his stomach, despite knowing him for years over, it is now you realize how truly little you know about him.

“darling! did no one tell you it’s rude to stare? my…” he grumbles lightheartedly before laughing. his laughs soon die out though once he realizes you aren’t laughing. imagine the mafia prodigy’s shock when you wrapped yourself tightly around him while lightly tracing the faded wounds collected over the years.

laying his head to rest on the bath’s counter, his senses are filled with the overwhelming scent of lavender while his heart tightens in fear and comfort. nothing like this has ever happened to dazai, what should he do in such a situation like this? despite his fear of being loved, this was just to resplendent to avoid, he needed more of these affections, more from you.

despite how scared of love he is, he wants more, call him greedy, call him selfish— all that matters is that you’ll be there to love him just as he will the same

#Chuuya Nakahara

he’d suggest pretty early in on the relationship (after 2-4 weeks of living together). he’s relatively open to anything romantic since well, it’s you! you’re just too lovely to say no to <3

prefers baths! of course, he wouldn’t turn down showering with you either, considering his line of work, any kind of affection is better than nothing. however, he does find baths together much more romantic especially if some slow jazz is playing

ok in the first bullet, i lied. he didn’t really suggest per se, but was pushed into a corner tbh. he came back home quite late and didn’t hear his 4 different alarms ringing and by the time he woke up— shit, it’s already 10! if he didn’t come in by 11:30, mori would probably kick his ass back and forth </33

ah! you were just preparing for your shift as well, mind if he… slides into your shower? wink wink 🤭🤭

he quickly explained his situation to you and being a lovely s/o, agreed <33. honestly rushed it since he was late and all but it was kinda hot seeing steam rush out of the shower as water poured on you both, his silky hair damp as his slim fingers run through them…

later in the day, he felt rlly bad since he’s a sucker for romance and that was just… not it. during his lunch break he went out to a belgian store near his favorite bar and bought some chocolates as well as a bouquet of white orchids, the flowers of apology (totally didn’t choose a for a family member flower to foreshadow marriage thats so wack….)

‘came back on break. wtf is this [insert picture]’ ‘oh i felt bad abt this morning… might not be able 2 go in during ur break tho ig…’ ‘omg how abt u join me later then and make it up to me? 🥰’ ‘[…] so im thinking ill come home a quarter to 11’

despite the conversation, he really did mean everything. having a dangerous job and not to mention constantly putting you in danger is a red flag, the least he could’ve done was be the ideal boyfriend to you, right? no, it’s time to stop thinking like that. love isn’t walking on eggshells with spikes on them; love is unconditional and loyal, it loves no matter the flaws or imperfections. and, god if that isn’t the most romantic thing in the world… 💖

#mod maki #bungo stray dogs imagines #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader

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constant-creative-chaos · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing with mha characters

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

kiri would ask you out of the blue, you two would probably be hanging out in his dorm one night and he’d just ask

like “baby, dance with me? 🥺”

he’d have his arms around you’re waist ofc, and he’d lay your head against his chest so you can hear his heart beat

he isn’t a good dancer but it’s all good, as long as you’re happy then he’s happy to dance with you

he wouldn’t do much other than sway, considering his poor skills

but he’d definetly him along to the songs

speaking of the songs, he’d probably play really cheesy love songs because he’s like that

laughs everytime either he or you messes up, he finds it amusing

ends up goofing off more towards the end

rating: 100/10, in conclusion, i love kirishima

you sat on kirishima’s bed, stretched out comfortably. your back against his headboard and his head in your lap, your fingers scratching gently against his scalp. he hummed along to the music playing, some song made a few years ago.

the song changed and he looked up at you, excitement flickering in his eyes, “baby, wanna dance with me?”

you stopped scratching his scalp for a moment, thinking about it. you smiled and nodded.

“yeah, i do, kiri,”

you’d have to ask him, like a lot

be persistent!!

it’s not that he doesn’t want to dance with you

it’s just that he has no fucking clue how to dance and doesn’t want to embarrass himself

he’s just s u c h a great dancer and doesn’t want to make you feel bad about your skills

no but he’s struggling,, he has no idea what he’s doing

“katsuki, just put your hands on-” “tch, i know what i’m doing dumbass”

he figures it out eventually, he had one had on your hip and the other holding yours

he buried his head in your neck so you don’t see his blush

he’s practically silent, only speaking to make a remark when you trip

he actually finds it really endearing

rating: katsuki, marry me

“katsuki, you gotta take a break. it isn’t good for you to keep at it like this,” you said rubbing his shoulder.

“yeah and what else would i do?” he grumbled, pushing his hand further down the pencil.

bakugou had been working non-stop on homework since he’d returned to the dorms that day. he had yet to take a break and he needed it, and you were about to force him into relaxing for a bit if he spent another second writing.

a small sigh left him before reaching up and grabbing your hand on his shoulder. He rubbed small shapes with his thumb and apologized.

“if you dance with me then we’ll be even,”

“alright shitty-(feature),” he paused before looking up at you through his eyelashes, “you and dancing.”

boy oh boy, sero and you dance so often

he loves dancing with you and DAMN is he good at it

he’ll dance with you at any point in time, for any reason

he spins you a lot, he’ll even lift you a little if he’s feeling it

it’s super playful

he dips you all the time

baby has the moves and loves teaching you

he’ll dance to any song, especially if you’re with him

he’s always laughing either you or talking to you while you dance together

rating: 10000/10, dancing king, only seventeen 🎶

“Mi sol, when did you get so good at this?”

sero spun you wildly in the spot, twirling you under his hand. you laughed and tumbled into his chest, still seeing the room spin around you. sero pulled back slightly to see you and your unfocused eyes.

“beginners bad luck finally wore off, i guess!”

he smiled down at you, waiting for you to lose the dizzy feeling of turning like that. he enjoyed your smile while you watched the room. but the second you’re eyes focused again he was moving around the room with you again.

“you’d best not drop me, hanta-”

he’d take you out dancing

endeavour payed for dance lessons when he was a kid - he couldn’t have his prodigy dancing like an idiot

this is an endeavour hate page

he took formal dancing lessons and would 100% take a while to loosen up with you

but he holds you very delicately, with one hand on the small of you’re back and the other holding yours

as he loosens up and relaxes he holds you closer to him

and i mean this is shouto todoroki we’re talking about, he’s quiet the whole time

he just watches you with a small smile on his face, cute as fuck-

would teach you to ballroom dance at some point, if you didn’t know

rating: 15/10, he’s a rich boy, he knows his moves

“sho, this is wonderful,” you grinned at him, “really, i appreciate this.”

he returned the smile, taking your hand in his and pulling you forward on to the dance floor. you straightened your clothes out and took his lead. the two of you began moving around the room together, following the rhythme of the song playing.

“you know how to dance formally?” he asked, watching you move with grace.

“i have no clue what i’m doing, i’m just following you,”

you’d ask and he’d: “y-you want to- i mean i’m not a good dancer- are you sure?? why??”

he’s so nervous, just give him some reassurance and he’ll be fine

he is always making sure he isn’t making you uncomfortable

he’d let you pick the music or chose from your playlist

he’d hold you by the hips after asking a few times if that was okay

he isn’t the best but he picks it up pretty quickly

he probably asked iida for dance lessons after this

n e ways, he’d probably be red the whole time

rating: 12/10, his nervousness is actually really endearing

he put his hands on your hips and pulled you toward him, glancing up to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, moving closer to him. you started swaying to the song playing and he followed your lead. the two of you starting to step around.

“are you sure you’re okay with this,” he tapped his fingers against your hip.

you hummed and rested your head on his shoulder, finding dancing with him comforting, “ ‘s okay, izuku. i promise.”

he kissed you on the crown of your head and continued moving to the music. he started relaxing and fully taking in the moment.

tenya iida, my main man,, he also got dance lessons when he was younger

fuckin rich boy

he short circuited when you asked, just give him a moment

he was probably super excited but kept it under control

he almost certainly played some sort of ballroom music (does that make sense??)

mans full on waltzed with you-

but he’d also do a more casual dance if you wanted

he held you small of your back and waist, he’s very careful not to make you uncomfortable

he’d only be goofy if you guys are just fooling around and making jokes while dancing

other than that he’s pretty quiet

rating: 20/10, tenya please wear some goddamn contacts during training

“y/n, i’m so sorry,” iida flushed deeply, stopping his movements.

despite his time practicing dance and his thought out movements, he’s stepped on your foot. he was apologizing profusely while you just stood and laughed lightly, watching his arm chop down.

“i’m sorry, i should have watched my step and- wait are you laughing?”

“iida, it’s okay. you have nothing to worry about.”

he’d probably just randomly start dancing with you

like you could be dancing around while cleaning and he’d just join you

baby can’t dance, he just can’t

but he acts like he can

would twirl you constantly and he’d try to dip you but fail miserably 😭

electric slide lookin ass

probably just starts his playlist and dances to random songs

he’s so goofy omg-

doesnt stop laughing or teasing you

rating: 30/30, sounds like a vibe

“you’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, a smooth criminal!”

denki stood on his toes, head tipped downward, and his hand positioned like he was dipping a fedora. at this point he had crashed into the table and knocked a chair over. this man was to never be trusted near anything fragile.

he took your hand and spun you around him, trying to keep you from the chair on the floor. after he spun you he spun himself, this time tripping over the chair and tumbling into the fridge.

“denki are you okay? are you okay, denki?” you sang along with the song playing.

sunshine man, he would 100% dance with you

but you’d have to ask, the thought just wouldn’t come to his mind

and he is worse than denki

but he has so much fun with it that it doesn’t matter

he spins you and lifts you, it’s so fun

he’s so goofy and playful, not a serious moment

he accidentally activated his quirk while dipping you, that hurt

but he loves dancing with you

and he pokes fun at his own dancing, he finds it really amusing

and he hyped you up so much

rating: 1000000/10, overall a perfect experience

a squeal left your mouth as your feet left the ground, mirio’s hands clutching your waist tightly. you grabbed on to his shoulders to keep yourself steady. he put you back on the ground and continued dancing along to the music. he shimmed his shoulders and bopped his head to the beat. or at least tried.

“i know that you can’t help but watch my horrible dancing but you gotta dance with me, can’t be the only bad dancer here!”

you shook your head and took his hands, shimmying along with him. man was mirio was a bad dancer but he made it so much fun

you’d ask him and he would just not get why you’d wanna dance with him

he wouldn’t object to it, it’s just that he’s sure that he’s a bad dancer and that others are so much better and

would hide his face in your neck and hold you really tightly to him

and he’s so nervous

if he stepped on you he’d let go of you and just stand in a corner for hours

but honestly, he’s actually a really good dancer

if you guys dance more he’ll start goofing off and doing stuff like spinning you

probably doesn’t put on music and if he did it would be off of his chill playlist

rating: 80/10, might be my ideal situation

you and amajiki had barely moved from where you guys started, not that it mattered. you two had been swaying more than dancing, but it was peaceful and relaxing. that’s what mattered. he had he’s arms wrapped tightly around your torso and his head was hidden in your neck. you felt his smile and uneven breathes brushing against your skin.

some old slow song played from your phone, one he chose. both of you were happy with the closeness and intimacy of the moment, but tamaki was happy he just hadn’t stepped on you. god that would have killed him. but he had yet to, and he was thankful.

“thank you, tama,” you smiled gently, “this is nice.”

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 3 years ago

Note

The curiouser and curiouser in me wonders, Ruby and Penny being cute and fluffy?

Inside RWBY’s temporary dorm at Atlas, one small huntress prodigy was snuggling up to her robot girlfriend in her bed, the two of them facing each other, eyes closed, and Penny having her arms wrapped around her. They’d been like this all night, and even after they woke up early about an hour ago. They didn’t talk, just enjoyed the warmth of the blanket, the cool pillow they shared, and each other’s light breathing.

A small burst of buzzes disturbed the peacefulness however, prompting Ruby to pull out her scroll (she really needed to stop sleeping with it in her bed, she might crack the screen eventually) , open her eyes, and look at the screen. She sighed as she saw the time, realizing that her day did need to start soon. “Penny.”

“Hmm?”

“We should get up. We need to be ready for our meeting with the General soon.”

Penny didn’t open her eyes at all, and didn’t let go of Ruby. “The meeting is at 0800. It’s currently only 7:30 am. It only takes up to 10 minutes to get dressed and combat ready, and another 10 minutes to get to the General’s office. Therefore, we still have ten minutes to spare to do with as we please. And I would like to keep cuddling.”

Ruby looked at Penny’s resting face, and had to admit she didn’t want to get up yet either. Ruby reached behind her and set her scroll down, then put her arm around Penny once again. “You know, next time you could just ask for five more minutes.”

“But I’m not asking for five minutes. I am asking for ten.”

Ruby closed her eyes once more, getting comfortable all over. “Touché, ten minutes it is then.”

Penny smiled, happy she got her way, and leaned her head forwards to gently rest her forehead against Ruby’s. “Sensational.”

#rwby #ruby rose #penny polendina #ruby x penny #nuts and dolts #ask #sfw #fluff #awmonopolyman000

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stockholmdolly · 3 years ago

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EASY PREY (BEWARE OF THE RED RIDING HOOD)

Imagine a helpless, pregnant girl who's just been yanked from the serenity of her home and shoved into a dirty van. Kidnapped. Alone. Terrified.

Now forget her ...

Picture instead a pregnant girl, manipulative prodigy. She is shoved into a dirty van and, from the first moment of her kidnapping, feels a calm desire for two things: to save her unborn son and to exact merciless revenge.

She is methodical, calculating, scientific in her plotting. A clinical sociopath? Leaving nothing to chance, secure in her timing and practice, she waits for the perfect moment to strike. This is what happens when the victim is just as cold as the captors.

The agents trying to find a kidnapped girl have their own frustrations and desires wrapped into this chilling drama. In the twists of intersecting stories, one is left to ponder. Who is the victim? Who is the aggressor?

Author’s note: We’re in a virtual space, it’s really impossible for me to really know if everyone is +18 so everything you consume in here (not only in my blog) is completely your responsibility. My blog is strictly +18.

Updates: Every Friday, but if I have time could be earlier. Happy reading😈

CHAPTER 1. 4-5 DAYS OF CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 2. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 3. 16-17 DAYS IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 4. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 5. DAY 20 IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 6. NUMEROUS DAYS...THE MONOTONY

CHAPTER 7. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 8. DAY 25 IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 9. DAY 30 IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 10. DAY 32 IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 11. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 12. DAY OF..

CHAPTER 13. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 14. DAY 33 CONTINUES

CHAPTER 15. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 16. DAY 33 CONTINUES, GO

CHAPTER 17. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 18. DAY 33 CONTINUES, YOU’RE A CRAZY BITCH

CHAPTER 19. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 20. DAY 33 CONTINUES, ASSET #42

CHAPTER 21. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 22. DAY 33 CONTINUES, UNCONSCIOUS BASTARD

CHAPTER 23. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 24. POST INCIDENT, HOUR 4

CHAPTER 25. THE TRIAL

CHAPTER 26. CONVERTED PRISONS

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x female reader #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes x brock rumlow #brock rumlow

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emilyoftheshadows · 4 years ago

Text

Deja Vu

Hi everyone! This is the second part of Deja Vu and while I will say its not as angsty as part 1, it is definitely far from resolved. I hope you guys enjoy!! I linked part 1 down below for those who haven't read it yet :)

Part 1

wordcount//2402

********

Aelin heaved for air as she rounded the corner of the street towards her apartment. Glancing at her watch, she noticed the time and coerced her body into a brisk jog to finish her afternoon run. Arobynn had clearly stated that she was needed in the office at 1:00 pm sharp. For what, who knew but him.

The man was utter filth and Aelin was completely aware of every leering gaze he threw her way. The way he shifted towards her whenever she walked into a room, the gleam of some sort of promise lingering in his gray eyes. Yet, Aelin could not give 2 fucks. She was becoming his prodigy, and she embraced the infinite work he piled on her month after month. While her title was still Hamel Hotel’s Brand Manager, she practically ran the company itself now. If she was being quite honest with herself, she hated her job most days and thought about quitting at least 3 times a week.

But every time she felt like pulling her hair out from the stress of dealing with incompetent colleagues and a boss who eye fucked her every second of every day, Aelin reminded herself that the alternative was way worse.

It had been almost a year since she ended it with Rowan, but it felt more like a lifetime. Only 6 months ago she had been crippled by heartbreak and rage, blinded by her own emotions and unable to see a future for herself. Unable to even think beyond the next hour, completely focused on her breathing. How she only had to breathe through the waterfall of tears cascading down her face, for one more minute. And then another, and another, until she could sit up and wipe away the fog wrapped around her brain.

But now, her heart was encased in an iron-clad box with no key. Because as she had laid across her floor all those months ago, sniveling snot like she was 5 years old, Aelin had had an epiphany. Not just pertaining to Rowan, but to romance in general. All the ice-cream dates and movie marathons, sunset picnics and belting songs in the car, have all been done before. Nothing about her and Rowan was special. All the great romantic tropes were being used by everyone else on this godforsaken planet at any given time.

Once Aelin let this new reality sink in, she had decided to never let herself become so undone by a man who couldn't give her an original love story. No one would ever have the power to crush her heart into pieces except herself, and Aelin would be damned if she let the same person in twice. With her new promise, Aelin had thrown herself into her work, filling her days so full that there was no time to think. No time to reminiscence or let her regrets see the light of day. She woke up early and ended late, passing out every night from pure exhaustion. Her tactics were less than stellar, but Aelin never thought of her green-eyed bird boy anymore, and that was all she needed.

She trudged up the stairs of her apartment, practically slamming her body into the door from lack of energy and not enough water. Entering the living room, Aelin threw her clothes off haphazardly, naked by the time she got to the shower. After a quick rinse, she flew back to her room to paint makeup on her face and find a suitable outfit.

It was standard for the women in the office to dress to Arobynn’s tastes, meaning fairly low necklines and silhouette framing outfits. The thought was disgusting, but Aelin wasn’t below using her looks to earn a place higher than Brand Manager. As much as she hated to admit it, if Aelin kept working to the bone, she truly believed Arobynn would give her the raise she so wanted. The raise she deserved for fucks sakes. With a glance in the mirror and a nod of approval to her reflection, Aelin was ready to go into battle once again.

----

Arobynn was ecstatic for his own standards, smiling with genuine excitement as she entered his office. Rifthold had a stunning downtown area, filled with sky-high buildings and classic architecture mixed with modern features, the Hamel Hotel in town being at its center.

Arobynn’s office was extravagant to a point of gaudiness, revolting Aelin every time she stepped inside. He glanced at her chest as she sat down, pleased with her choice of blouse today if the smirk on his face was any indication. The seat sank with her as she settled into the plush surface, settling her legs in a crossed position, ever the professional businesswoman.

“Darling, I see that we were running a bit late today, but that’s no matter now.” Aelin glanced down at herself, trying to find the source of such a comment. As her eyes dragged up her own body, Aelin saw the mistake that gave her away. Her blouse buttons were askew, the buttons incorrectly aligned creating an odd, sagging neckline. Well, no wonder he was staring at her chest earlier, the black bra peeking through the gaps in her shirt. Fidgeting with her shirt as she noticed the mistake, Aelin dropped her hands and quickly resigned to fix it later. Of course Arobynn would notice the tiny, careless mistake in her appearance. But with his mind on other matters, Arobynn was already moving on barely noticing her squirming.

“I have exciting news for us, Aelin. The kind that could put Hamel Hotels in the spotlight.” With a quick turn of his laptop, he presented her with the picture of a young man, about her own age. He was pale, but not alarmingly so. His hair was tousled and dark, the pieces framing a boyish looking face. The smile on his face seemed innocent enough until you looked into those sapphire eyes, a hint of trouble managing to show itself. In a short summary, the man was gorgeous.

“This boy right here is Dorian Havilliard, a nobody from some town called Rifthold down south. Apparently, he has made quite a name for himself on the online writing world, becoming internet famous for erotic writing, among other genres.” With that word, erotic, Aelin could’ve sworn his eyes darkened ever so slightly while glancing her way. Brushing away the wave of nausea assaulting her senses, Aelin focused back into reality.

“ He looks charming enough sir, but what use is he to Hamel Hotels?”

“Havilliard is making his debut into the publishing world this weekend at a lower level author’s convention in Terrasen at one of our Hamel Hotel properties. If we can introduce ourselves and graciously offer him Hamel Hotel’s finest amenities, I am convinced that we can get him to host all of his future events with our hotel. Dorian is young, naïve, and will be flattered by our offers. I will make sure of it.” Arobynn was unbecoming, his hands erratically gesturing back and forth between the computer and Aelin. His gray eyes were crazed, the prospect of such business and money to the Hotel’s as enticing as a woman at night.

“That’s a brilliant idea Mr. Hamel. I can leave as soon as you would like, and I assure you I can get the job done.” Only the best of her saccharine smiles was painted on Aelin’s face. She presented nothing less to the man who controlled her future. Besides, it would be nice to get out of Rifthold for once. The city was gorgeous, but a change in scenery from the hustle of downtown sounded relaxing. Yes, Terrasen with its rolling hills and sunny atmosphere would be welcome.

“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm Ms. Galathynius, this matter is too important for you to handle alone. This evening, we will be taking my private plane to Terrasen so I can assist you in the convincing of Mr. Havilliard. Our suite is being readied as we speak. The driver will pick you up at your apartment around 5:30.” With a wave of his hand, Arobynn dismissed her from the room, already focused on his laptop once more.

With a short “yes, sir” in response, Aelin made to leave the office. But as she opened the doors to exit, Arobynn stopped her short.

“And Miss Galathynius, remember we are trying to persuade this young man to work with us in the future. Dress accordingly.” Aelin turned back around quickly, hiding the surprise on her face. Arobynn had always displayed questionable morals, but he was becoming bolder in his comments. In his admiration too.

It was only later when she was packing her clothes that she realized his wording. Our suite is being readied. Not his. Aelin’s stomach roiled with anxiety at having to spend the night so close to the monster that was her boss.

But as her hands shook with the effort to continue folding her clothes, and her throat dried up to where she couldn’t find the ability to swallow her nerves, Aelin reached down to that empty pit within herself. The same wave of calm that had encased her 6 months ago protected her now, and she continued to sort her items into the luggage in front of her.

The driver came at 5:30 on the dot. She boarded the plane, and listened to Arobynn ramble about his genius and plans for the next day. They landed in Terrasen, surrounded by luscious green landscapes and rays of the golden hour shining around them.

Yet, Aelin felt nothing.

-------

Rowan was one edge, constantly glancing at the dark haired young man sitting next to him. Dorian Havilliard was a genius with pen and paper, that much was certain. Even Rowan had enjoyed the young authors short stories, the smut not completely welcome but admittedly well written.

The man himself was a completely different story. Although he was only 2 years below Rowans 24, Dorian was a fucking wildcard. They had only been at the hotel for 30 minutes and he had already gotten himself lost in the booze and women down near the bar.

Rowan had seen the young man’s nerves, how his hands shook when Maeve detailed his debut with The Cadre as his publishing team and the speech he would have to give earlier that week. Maeve was an intimidating woman and if Rowan had been in his spot when he first started with The Cadre, he would be pissing himself too.

Despite this level of understanding, Dorian’s antics were still unacceptable. All eyes were on him this weekend, the word spreading that he would be attending the convention thanks to a leak. Whether that leak came from The Cadre themselves was neither her nor there. Dorian’s books will fly off the shelves, but they needed people invested in him first. And that meant PR. A shit ton of PR to be more specific. And what better way to do it when the countries authors were all gathered in one convention hall for the weekend.

The whole team came out to Terrasen, all of them concerned for how they were going to corral Dorian for the whole event. Maeve joined as well, ready to micromanage The Cadre and network the hell out of these authors. And because Maeve came, that meant Lyria followed.

Rowan and Lyria had fallen into a comfortable relationship. After all that pain a year ago, Rowan felt okay to date now. Lyria’s company wasn’t unwelcome and the situationship had slowly evolved into a relationship. There wasn’t any passion or burning love for one another, at least on Rowan’s side, but their companionship was a nice presence in his life.

Although he would never acknowledge it, Rowan was scared to love with his entire soul like he had with Aelin. The more he opened his heart, the more opportunity there was for someone to come and crush it to pieces. If he had to experience that misery again, Rowan would never recover. He barely had last time, and he still wasn’t back to who he used to be. Back to how happy he used to be.

Shaking away his thoughts Rowan turned to Dorian, only to find an empty chair next to him. That tricky bastard. With a shove of his seat, Rowan reached into his pocket unlocking his phone. He texted a quick help to The Cadre and a separate message to Lyria, asking them to start the manhunt.

Rowan scanned every face in the bar, unsuccessful in his search. Walking towards the lobby, Rowan almost shoved an elderly woman to the ground in his rush. As he turned to help the lady steady herself, Rowan apologized profusely for his mistake. The woman waved him away carelessly, hobbling towards a man who he assumed was her husband.

Straightening himself once again, Rowan started walking with determination only to be stopped dead in his tracks. Because only feet away from was Aelin Galathynius.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Rowan took the time to admire her appearance. Her hair was clasped behind her head, golden pieces falling to the sides of her face. Her outfit was business professional, but more revealing than most outfits he had seen so far with a low cut blouse and slimming black pencil skirt with matching black heels. As he made his way up her body, the sight of her ocean blue eyes took his breath away once again. Rowan didn’t think he would ever grow used to Aelin’s brilliant presence, attracting glances from men and women alike.

But as he looked closer at her, those beautiful eyes didn’t have the same fire they did a year ago. In fact, there was no emotion at all shown on her features. Nothing at all. Out of every moment of heartbreak and sorrow she had caused him, the sight of her utterly devoid of feeling was the most painful thing Rowan had ever experienced.

After eons, Aelin finally turned his way. As she made eye contact with him, Rowan finally saw something flicker in her eyes. Surprise. They continued to look at one another, stuck in a world of their own making. Rowan couldn’t find it in his heart to break their connection, damn the consequences. And as they stood frozen in a fantasy, for the first time in a year, Rowan truly smiled.

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littlefreya · 4 years ago

Text

The Way to Hell - Part 13

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escaped Ethan Hunt with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. Brooding as he is, August is unwilling to back down on his murderous agenda he plots to continue where he was stopped.

Series Completed: Previous Chapter | | Chapters Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of sexual encounters, child neglect, betrayal, hinted physical abuse, foul language and lots of angst.

A/N: I thought chapter 13 will be the last one, but I didn’t want to rush the ending or have a chapter too long. So for those of you still waiting, hang in tight! Many thanks to @agniavateira who’s my muse and my editor, to @raspberrydreamclouds for this amazing cover and to those who’s been asking me about the chapter, means a lot to me. I am going into my usual Way to Hell posting panic attack. So bye for now.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Please comment, review and reblog. 💖

Title: Paradise lost

There cannot be peace before first a great suffering. There cannot be love without first a great tragedy.

~*~

Opaline droplets of sweat form on his forehead. In his ears, a constant buzzing rings wretchedly as if an angry hornet is caged inside his skull. What was long buried abruptly awakens, stabbing at the back of his head. Red flashes sear through his eyes while images of Ingvild dissolving to ashes play in his mind, her bloodsoaked feathers crumbling to the ground.

“Why did you go?” August mutters under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He crumples the little yellow note with sheer frustration before throwing it on the bed.

‘I told her not to go, I commanded her!’

The air in the room grows thick like the pit of a stygian forest. Tentacle-like branches appear behind his eyes creeping closer, clutching his limbs. Even though lost and abandoned in the thicket of his mind, her angelic scent still lingers on his skin, impossible to wash off. Sniffing at his biceps, he inhales the mixture of their union on his flesh; what begins as euphoric mirth quickly meets the sharp edge of rage and hatred.

She’s gone and it gnaws at the dark matter of his brain.

He hates it.

Hates her for being absent.

Frowning deeply, August reaches a rigid hand for his clothes, forcing himself to get dressed. The very first memory of her hinges on his mind: An icy woman with silver-moon eyes who refused his pursuit.

‘Did you think the two of you are going to ride toward the sunset together? That’s not you.’

Letting out heavy gasps, he shakes his head. “She’ll be fine,” he whispers dismissively, pulling on his trousers and hastily buckling his belt.

The new world order awaits, so close he can feel the fresh sun sitting on his open palm. It is his vision, his legacy: bigger than whatever it is Ingvild and him have together.

There was no her in his plan, to begin with.

The Devil never had a queen.

‘You know what they’ll do to her…’

Another ray of daytime terror cuts through his thoughts: her wings plucked from her back, threads of flesh tearing from her naked body. Her screams die in silence.

“She chose to leave, I asked her not to!” August yells into the empty room, frowning at no one but himself as he grabs the used shirt which hangs from the tall mirror. Turning to his reflection, he tenses at the sight of his body. Crimson valleys lead down his back, courtesy of her claws branding deep into soft tissue and toned muscles.

‘Do you know what is the probability of finding someone like her? A woman who wants to see the world burn with you? Who believes in your cause of building a new one?’

August swallows hard and combs his fingers through his hair with haste, attempting to act normal through the intensifying drumming in his ears. Being completely methodical, he pulls his long trench coat over his shoulders and collects his belongings into his black duffle bag on the bed. With a heavy painful breath, he forces his thoughts away, zipping the bag with urgency and reciting in his mind everything necessary for his trip. Time is scarce, the end and the new beginning are nigh; the smart thing to do is to forget her, erase her existence from the chambers of his heart.

He doesn’t have one anyway.

His hand secures the gun in its holster and harsh fingers lace around the black straps of his bag as he stretches himself straight, ready to leave this bedroom. That’s when his eyes fall again to the crumpled yellow note.

‘You’ll never see her in Kashmir, you’ll never see her again.’

~*~

‘Amazing,’ the silver-haired wolf muses while scratching his bristly jaw. For 13 years the evil spawn’s eyes remained exactly as they were the day he picked her from the orphanage. Grey crystal orbs so naive, clueless, and oh so hungry for validation. A child desperate to prove herself worthy to someone, anyone.

It was her single flaw and his greatest advantage.

Even now in the bloom of adulthood, the pale, scrawny thing standing before him is nothing but a lost little girl who wants someone to hold her bony hand.

‘How can someone be so smart yet at the same time so blind?’

The cheap motel room smells like mildew and rotten wood. Speckles of dust float between the handler and his prodigy, cascading over his glance that seems rather alien and naked as glass. It pierces through her muscles - this sudden sense of peculiarity and estrangement.

She chews the inside of her cheeks and sways slightly on her spot, arms hanging loose at her side. Ingvild lifts her chin to look at Liam, her eyes round with what can only be guilt. It makes her look like a child who broke an antique vase.

“Thank you for answering my call,” she begins, wrapping her fist around a disposable phone before throwing it on the tidy bed.

Liam scoffs and shakes his head, ridicule spreading on his face. “You’ve gotten yourself into trouble over a boy, child?” He stares up and down the young woman, noticing the obvious change in her posture.

‘So, she truly is a woman now; how did I not see this one coming with her constant chatter about how handsome he is when I handed her the dossier?’

“Please don’t tell me you need money to get an abortion.”

Ingvild frowns with disgust and shakes her head right away. “Never. No, it’s not what I’m here for.”

Displeased as always, Liam emits his usual grunt. He slowly shakes his head at his asset while running his fingers through his lanky grey hair. This is not how he imagined this mission to end. Her lack of emotions was a key element; Ingvild could have had a few good years running several missions for him, but what tipped the scale was for her to run into the wrong psychopath.

“Then tell me Ingvild, why should I listen to a failed assassin such as yourself? You’ve been weird about this mission since day one. Acting discreet, irresponsible, and reckless,” the old man’s Adam's apple bobs up and down in his throat as he speaks. Taking a small stride, he moves closer to get a better look of her diamond irises. So sharp and so strange, they’ve always irked him. As a child she downright looked like something out of a horror movie.

“You’ve had 445 successful missions, not even 30 years old. Yet here you are a failure, and for what? For a boy?”

Shame traps her tongue and her glance drops to the floor. Failure stings like a rod of hot iron piercing her beating heart. Yet her mind races to the night at the pit where August finally claimed her, the memory of his lips sets glowing embers through her veins. On her skin remains the evidence of his embrace. Microscopic cells, tinted by his DNA.

She doesn’t want this feeling to go away.

Liam clears his throat, tearing her away from memories that turn from tar to honey the longer she dwells on them.

“You know why your mother gave you away, Ingi?” Liam asks, giving her a ghastly sardonic smile while cocking one eyebrow.

‘Liam never smiles.’

A small frown sets creases above her freckled nose. “I asked you many times before and you always said you don’t know.”

The Dane scoffs at her, his smile widening, exposing cigarette-and-coffee-stained teeth. The rot around his gums makes her curl her nose slightly and flinch as he leans closer.

“You were a rape baby.”

The words send a pang through her muscles, like stepping on glass. She shakes her head with protest and steps back, yet Liam nods knowingly, standing in front of her.

“You’re lying.”

His small hazel eyes burn holes through her skull, his smile sinister and impish. “Your father was a savage, a rapist. He left your poor mother half-dead and impregnated in the forest you love so much. Who knows, maybe that’s why you kept going there as a child, reconnecting with your true nature.”

Refusing to listen, she shies from his piercing glare. Liam reaches a coarse hand to cup her jaw, forcing her face back to his. “Your mother hated you. Your very existence reminds her of the most terrible thing that ever happened to her.”

For a child with such a limited emotional range, Liam finds that the muscles of her face are capable of stretching thoughtfully with spite. Pent up hatred creases her brow, her silver eyes turning to hot, molten gold. She bites on her tongue, keeping a vow of silence but he can read her face just the way an assassin would.

“Nothing but a mistake, disowned by your own mother. So why would this man, this... mass murdering psychopath love you?” Liam shifts her head from side to side, inspecting the healing cuts and bruises that decorates her pale skin. “He saw an opportunity and seized it, used you…”

He pauses, moving away from a stare colder than icy lake water, “just like they will.”

Ingvild parts her lips with wonder, glaring at the person she knew all her life with disbelief. In the glossy reflection of Liam’s honey-brown eyes, she sees several black, long rifles pointed at her head.

Liam curls his thin lips with an utter lack of remorse and shrugs indifferently.

“She’s yours.”

*~*~

If colours had sound then the pale blinding white would be a continuous high-frequency hum. The tunes and shades of death. Like angry flies feasting on a corpse.

‘Is this Valhalla?’

A small groan escapes her mouth, her eyes hurting from the sickly radiance of the narrow fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling. Her wrists feel numb as they’re pulled behind her back in restraints.

“No,” she opens her mouth to speak, her throat burning, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Definitely not Valhalla...”

‘You need to be a hero to enter Valhalla, stupid girl.’

Stupid didn’t even begin to describe it. August would never let her hear the end of it.

Loud, angry steps tap on the white marble floor, growing louder as the person approaching enters the room. Ingvild blinks, peering at the silhouette when a smile of comfort paints her drowsy face. Like a god, her lover strides toward her with his usual confidence. His ocean-blue eyes beam at her sight, his palm spread open to embrace his tiny Valkyrie. She chuckles at the mischievous, charming grin on his face as it reminds her the day they first met.

Oh, she wishes to nibble his stupid chin right now and brush her fingers along his thick moustache.

But as she blinks again, large brown almond-shaped eyes replace the ocean-blue. A panther of a woman stands before her: confident, strong, and impossibly beautiful. Her dark, succulent lips are pressed together and concern shines through as she observes the small woman who has her arms cuffed behind her back and her feet shackled to the metal legs of the chair.

With her head still heavy, the assassin turns her face from side to side. She quickly observes the armed guards at the entrance, the tall, greying agent standing nonchalantly against the wall awaiting orders, and lastly the sickly-looking, lean man who is positioned at the fore of a metal desk with his fingers laced together. Anticipation is written all over his line-riddled face.

“Erica Sloane,” Ingvild calls knowingly, the ghost of a wicked smile dancing on her chapped lips as she turns her head to face the CIA director. Dressed in a black power suit and crimson pumps, the director is drenched with big dick energy.

“August told me so much about you, but he didn’t mention how fuckable you are.” Ingvild drawls, fluttering her lashes as she scans her from head to toe.

Tilting her head, Erica grabs a white plastic chair and places it in front of Ingvild. She then takes a seat, crossing her long smooth legs together. Kindness and motherly concern pours from her dark eyes, expressions Ingvild never received from anyone in her life.

“Poor child, I imagine August Walker filled your head with many stories.”

“No…” Ingvild swallows, trying to dampen her sore throat. Noticing her struggle, Erica snaps her fingers and the greying agent rushes to bring her a plastic cup of water like a loyal dog. Focusing on the translucent beads around the cup, Ingvild flicks her tongue over her lips. “August was too busy filling other parts of me.”

The intrepid woman begins to laugh at her own joke, her voice dragging groggily while Erica rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“I imagine so.” She answers and then carefully tilts the cup to Ingvild’s lips, offering the drink to the girl who sips with desperation as if she walked the desert. “August was my best agent,” she explains, watching the stream of water that rolls down Ingvild’s chin as she gulps with an incredible thirst, “a really proficient assassin, ranked high in every mission I sent him to. My golden boy. Even though that shit-eating attitude of him was something else...”

Withdrawing the cup, she looks into Ingvild’s cold silvery stare. “Those snarky, arrogant remarks and him going through the whole department like a fox in a hen coop I could overlook. But that fucker had us all fooled, Ingvild, as he fooled you.”

Ingvild flutters her dark lashes and tips her chin up. Her defined cheekbones sharpen even more as a snake-like arrogance poisons her face. “August told me what you did,” she utters sincerely, while Erica commands the agent to refill the plastic cup. Loathing melts her beautiful sullen glaciers as she focuses on Erica.

The CIA director narrows her eyes at her in return, and curls her lips downward as disdain fills her mouth. “I am not the one who made Walker murder Agent Hartmann, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You deceived him,” Ingvild retorts calmly and sucks in her bottom lip, collecting the remaining droplets of water onto her tongue. “That’s what you and your little agencies do to people like us. Set up traps for predators and pretend to act surprised as they eat the bait.”

Holding the cup, Erica stares at the young woman thoughtfully, the burning hatred in her eyes reminding her so much of Agent Walker: An entitled spoiled brat, thinking he can wind the world to the direction only he sought to be right.

“You can’t blame a predator for following its nature, and you can’t expect him to behave otherwise.”

“Is that how you see yourself?” Erica asks, moving the cup away, though she can see the thirst on Ingvild’s gaping bottom lip. “August poisoned your mind but I assure you, you are not the monster he is. You never had the choice that he did.”

Erica’s voice suddenly becomes soft, and her big brown eyes become round with care that only a parent can express. But the only form of parent Ingvild ever had was Liam, and he was never much of a father, was he? It took less than a few hours for him to give her away.

She wonders how long it took for her real mother.

Her gaze drops, peering at Erica’s shiny crimson shoes as they counter the lifelessness of the floor like blood in the snow. Memories whisk her away again, a man in pursuit of a woman deep in an icy forest. She should have died that night and yet here she is, shackled to a chair. The voice of the man who saved her echoes through her head with a fair warning: ‘Liam never gave a flying fuck about you.’

Sharp as a needle, it pricks her heart.

“I know what Icarus did. Moulding you into the perfect assassin, depriving you of the childhood and the life you deserved.” Erica’s voice cuts into her trail of thoughts, making her raise her gaze back to the beautiful woman. “Now, I don’t know what twisted fantasies August may have offered but I can assure you, they are empty just like him. You read his file, you know what he’s capable of. Looking at your scars and bruises I assume he hurts you for his own sick pleasure, taking advantage of a woman who only wants to be loved.”

‘She doesn’t know him like I do, the way he drank my lips and called me his angel, the way his fingertips beat the warm blood in my arteries.’ Ingvild shuts her eyes, soaking in the remnants of his touch as it still ghosts across her body.

Erica’s kind, tepid hand wraps around the young woman’s jaw, lifting her pale face with the cautiousness of a human tending a wild creature. Grey and dark-brown collide at the seams as they share a silent stare.

“If you’ll give us his location, we can arrange for your freedom and protection.”

Ingvild breaks away from Erica’s grip, pushing herself back in the chair as much as she can. The screech of metal against marble makes the guards cringe. Slow and cold, a sardonic chuckle begins to burst from Ingvild’s lungs. The laughter echoes off the walls while she shakes her head with disbelief.

“Do I look like a dumb bitch to you? Even if this was true, do you think I’m willing to be a slave to another government? Kept ignorant and tabbed? I’d rather rot in this cell while my beautiful monster dismantles your old world order.”

Drops of water splash at her face as Erica squashes the plastic cup in front of her, sulking with fury. Her eyebrows knit together and she purses her lips as if this young woman is something sour on her tongue.

Evidently, Liam was right; the girl is far too gone, living in the little fantasy world August built for her.

“If you think he ever cared about you for a split second, then you are a dumb bitch. No matter how this plays out, you and August are never going to end up happily ever after.” Erica spits, holding her finger at Ingvild’s childlike frown. “He’s never going to come for you. You were nothing but a toy, a plaything for him to pass the time.”

Ingvild scoffs and rolls her eyes, refusing to let these words cut into the beating muscle in her chest.

`Stick and stones may break my bones...’

Solid, slender fingers wrap around her jaw, squeezing around her cheeks like a big spider. She is met with Erica’s long lashes, while those deep brown eyes slice into her soul.

“You might think you know him, but I’ve worked with August long enough to know that he never loved anything other than his precious ego. So I would consider this as your final chance little girl, because if you don’t talk right now - this nice fellow here...” Erica pauses and gestures her head to the scrawny man who begins to hum a blissful tune while cracking his knuckles. Twisted excitement shines through his beady eyes as he glances at the set of sharp surgical tools lying on the desk.

“He’s going to make you sing like the precious bird you are.”

Fear shies from Ingvild’s stoic, icy face. The well-lubricated gears in the labyrinth of her head begin to work, observing the possible escape options and scanning every cavity, crease, and man in Erica’s lovely torture chamber.

The door suddenly bursts open. A man in his mid thirties with bright red hair and a freckle-covered face rushes in, huffing heavily. His pink skin glistens with sweat, the strands of his fiery hair sticking on his large forehead while his hand holds onto his chest with distress.

“Sloane, there is something you need to see…” he opens his mouth breathlessly.

“Not now!” Sloane snaps at him, looking at Ingvild with contempt. There is nothing she wishes more than to avoid torturing a young woman, especially someone as misguided as this poor porcelain doll. All she needs is to make her see the truth, that August never cared for her, that she was just another pawn in his grand scheme.

“Director, I am sorry, but you really need to come and see this.”

Agitated, Erica snaps in her chair to look at him. “What is it, Agent Louis?”

“It’s John Lark’s manifesto, ma’am…” he sighs, shoulders slumping, “it’s… it’s everywhere.”

A shivering hiss escapes her mouth. The shiver that graces the rail of her spine is like a shower of icy water, making her slowly rise from her chair. August’s harmful “poetry” is released into the air like toxic gas, contaminating every fragile little mind in an already unstable world.

“Do you like my little surprise?” Ingvild asks, making the baffled woman turn to gaze at her. There’s a malicious little smile dancing across her eyes, her brows lifting with an arrogance that strongly resembles Agent Walker.

Swallowing hard, the CIA woman takes a step back, tugging her jacket straight and looking at the torturer who lifts a small hammer between his pliable fingers.

“Break her, until she talks.”

The harsh tapping of her heels dies down and her silhouette becomes smaller until it disappears behind the shutting door.

“Pretty girl...” The man’s voice is brittle and thin as he is, every word ending with a slight snake-like hiss. He moves to scrutinise her from head to toe, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip with a prying nature.

“You know August used to mock me…”

“I can see why,” she spits out, looking back at him with both fearlessness and utter disrespect. She killed men bigger than him, hell, August’s kneaded her to submission and his torture was nothing but sweet.

She can take him on, she can take all of them on.

The lean man beams at her, holding up the small shiny hammer and running his finger over the rim pervertedly. The dead skin around his nails rouses disgust in her gut, yet she rolls her eyes and fakes a yawn.

He chuckles at her theatrics and kneels in front of her with one unstable hand pressing onto her thigh. His revolting fingers scratch gently at her denim, making her shiver. If August knew another man was laying his finger on her…

But August is not here.

“Well… shall we begin, little bird?”

***

‘When this world ends and the new one begins, what will be of your little Valkyrie? Merely bones and rotting flesh laid in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere and mourned by no one. Won’t you be jealous of the insects feasting on her narcotic tissue?’

Cold air seeps through his nose as sharp bullets of hail hit the ground with the fury of angry gods, shattering onto the ruins of an old bridge with a loud, clattering noise. Sheltered from the rage of the heavens, August stands beneath the wreckage, facing the men who came to make the final exchange.

Blue and green ferns have grown over the decaying surroundings, climbing over rusted metal. Nature reclaiming its place over man’s occupied space. Justice and beauty in decadence and rot.

‘Memento mori.’

“The plutonium,” August demands, his thick brows shadowing his eyes in a battle to remain composed. Those same parasitic visions of sheer terror burden him like a daytime nightmare: pale as porcelain, she sinks to the bottom of a lake thick with blood. His hand reaches out for her, fingers trying to grasp whatever he can but she slips away.

‘How far do you think Erica will go this time?’

A rogue droplet of sweat glides languidly down his temple, crossing over a bulging tendon. Unfortunately quite apparent to the three men who scrutinise him with wonder: two well-paid bodyguards and a slimy-looking slug, wearing a dark business suit that does nothing but emphasize his fragile masculinity.

“The money first!” The businessman whines, attempting to make a tough face.

‘A cock and two balls.’ August jests and does his best to remain indifferent while anxiety threatens to claw its ugly talons in his throat. The seller’s receding hairline is thick with dandruff, his dull green eyes attempt to mimic confidence, as a beta male would do when facing a pure alpha, trying to compensate for lost dignity.

‘I don’t have time for this,’ August huffs, his chest puffing and the immense shoulders stretching even wider, exhuming his natural overpowering dominance. His patience runs brittle as a dry twig. A restless throb thunders between his ears like a scab, latched inside his brain.

The slug pries his mouth open to speak, yet his voice becomes dull as if the world just went underwater.

‘Do you think she’ll go as far as to let her men touch her? You know, not just the usual torture they put interrogated suspects through, but the type of touch only you are allowed to.’

‘She doesn’t have the balls, she won’t do that to another woman.’

‘Won’t she? It’s personal this time. Erica knows what you are capable of. And your Ingvild, she’s an apostle too now, an enemy of the world…’

Fever burns at his sweaty forehead and his lungs gradually collapse. Visions he can’t even bring himself to imagine attempt force their way into his mind. The yapping of the man who stands in front of him goes on and on; while August can feel himself speak in response, the words spouting from his lips are on autopilot.

All he can think of is her, stripped naked, torn to shreds by dark shadows.

‘She holds back a lot, but when she slips, aren’t her screams so beautiful? Her pleasant little voice, stretching so melodically, like skin over bone, thin and light.’

“Shut up!”

All eyes lift to August in silent bewilderment. His fists tighten, nails digging into his coarse palms as the will to rip someone to shreds beats through his blood. These men will be no more than a casualty.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks in a deep, menacing tone, his hand but a second from reaching his holster. By measured calculation, he already anticipates how quickly he would shoot them one by one without so much of a scratch on his cheek.

“I’m John, fucking, Lark. My apostles are awaiting orders this very instance,” he reaches for his phone, ignoring the flinch in their posture as he draws it from his pocket and shakes it in his hand on display, “and you want to stand here in this shit weather and measure dicks? Spoiler alert,” he takes a stride in front of the little man, careless of his bodyguards who reach for their weapons, “mine is far bigger.”

The seller peers at him silently, noticing the icy crust of rage in August’s glare. His pale eyes cut like diamonds while the shadow of his brooding figure falls upon the small man’s face.

“You will get your money once I get to see the plutonium and confirm it’s authenticity,” August calls out assertively, each word distinguished, each syllable emphasised and sharp as a blade. Death is no longer an enemy to August Walker but an old friend, and those trolls under the bridge are a mere joke to the inferno he’s been basking at his entire life.

‘Limb by limb, feather by feather, while you waste your time...’

‘She wanted me here, she wanted me to secure the plutonium. If I don’t do this, it will all be for nothing.’

‘So now you are doing this for her?’

Not saying another word, the seller nods and snaps his fingers. Agitation is evident on his face yet the violence emanating from August forces him to bite down his pride. One of his henchmen approaches with a suitcase and opens it up to show August the orbs.

Thunder rips through the sky and the hail turns into a symphony of wrath. Icicles break across the construction site above, splashing water everywhere around them. Staring at the platinum spheres, August sees his own reflection dulled by the dirty silver curve.

A dormant thing. But when set into motion, ever so deadly.

He presses the beryllium rod to test the authenticity of the material and a sigh of relief pipes itself through his nose at the sound of the radioactive note on his testing device. Celebration blooms in his weary heart but the festivity is deemed achingly empty and dies out right away.

‘Stop thinking about her, she’s gone. Focus on the cause, you’re almost there, just keep pushing through the doors.’

~*~

The blizzard melted into shy rain. The soft little drops dampen his hair, perming his large curls with the assistance of the cool winter breeze. Standing with the suitcase on the side of the rural road, August awaits his ride taking him to the helipad to proceed to Kashmir. It has been so long since he last met his true colleagues, since his departure from Lane in Norway. Avoiding any risks, contact was kept only necessary for the last stages of their tasks.

Doom’s day.

Securing the plutonium should have brought him relief, yet his chest continues to sink into his spine as if it’s being filled with coals. August Walker threaded through life alone, yet this sudden solitude is suddenly harrowing, making him feel like a gutted fish. Looking to his empty side he the ghost of her appears, giving him a bratty smirk.

“Go away,” he chides, refusing to think of her. Of that stupid mouth talking back, tormenting him with sweet saccharine and cinnamon-like kisses. In his reminiscences, the softness of her lips still hinges. Tenderness meeting the bristle of his neck as she lay gentle wet markings up his coarse jaw.

His fingers press to his mouth trying to harness the memory.

A large car drives into the side of the road, speeding up and braking right next to his legs, missing August’s foot by an inch. Frowning at the careless driver, he grunts and brushes his hair before opening the passenger door.

“Took you awhile,” he grunts as he slips into the seat and peers at the driver. A bulky man in his early 40s with dark short cropped curls and thin lips. He shoots August a glance and turns back to the steering wheel.

“Not my bad, you made a fucking mess, Lark.” The man answers and begins driving right away, careless of the fact that August didn’t put his seatbelt on and that he is holding radioactive material.

Throwing the seatbelt over himself and fastening it, August growls and carefully secures the case on the side of the driver seat, his index finger remaining on the brim. He gently caresses the hard black leather. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The driver peers at him oddly before looking down the road, driving fast and passing a large log truck. “Releasing the manifesto. MI6 and the CIA are all over the place,” he says and turns the radio on, letting August hear the news on his own. “I get why you did it now, it’s brilliant to cause another distraction but you’ve made shit a bit harder with those cunts running around. They tracked it back from London and have been surveying the entire area.”

“I didn’t release the... “

August stills, his muscles shriveling up as realisation quickly hits him.

‘Oh angel, what have you done?’

Drawing out his mobile phone, August immediately begins to search the newsite, his eyes an ocean of panic, fluttering back and forth. It’s everywhere, news about an anarchist manifesto, spreading like a virus through every social media outlet, leaked by codename “Jane Lark”.

“Fuck,” he hisses, reading his own written word as he goes through an article posted on the BBC’s newsite. But she changed the last verse, added a little piece of her own:

“Valkyries mounted onto beasts, We will ride eternal to the sun. The blazes will sear us but we will not back down, United by our cause of just war, Unflinching we will scour the earth, Until humanity comes together in tranquil and harmony.”

‘She loves you, you see? The way she lets you bleed her, use her, spill all your pain inside her. The way she held onto you just a night ago, your name falling from her lips, her body pressing into yours to take all of you. She’s the only one. The only woman who did and ever will.

And you left her to die.’

________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible and August Walker

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #littlefreya’s fiction #mission impossible fallout fanfiction #august walker x ofc #mission impossible fallout

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divinemissem13 · 1 year ago

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30 Days of Prodigy, day 17: Admiral Janeway

Admiral Janeway sighs with relief as she steps into her quarters at the end of another long day. She kicks off her boots and shrugs off her admiral’s jacket, leaving a pile of Starfleet armor on the floor to be dealt with later, and pads over to the replicator where she orders a glass of red wine.

All day long, she is Admiral Janeway: fearless, hopeful, and unshakeable.

But alone in her quarters at night, she can just be Kathryn.

This has become her nightly ritual, on this long journey to rescue Chakotay. She sheds her armor and then Kathryn curls up on the couch with a glass of wine, wrapped in the tribal blanket he gave to her years ago, back on the first USS Voyager.

She imagines it still smells like him. It probably doesn’t.

She looks out at the stars as she sips her wine and she talks to him. She doesn’t say anything of consequence. She tells him about her day. She tells him about the antics that the Hellions (which is how she refers to the former crew of the USS Protostar and their shadow, Miral Paris) have gotten up to. She tells him about the class 4 nebula that they flew past and that maybe they’ll stop to study it further on the way back, but there’s just no time now for such frivolities. Besides, she thinks he would enjoy studying the nebula too.

Truthfully, she is fairly certain that the only reason he cares at all about studying nebulas is because he likes to watch her watching it.

When she has run out of new stories to tell, she begins recounting old ones.

She ends, as she always does, with the story of the Angry Warrior who found peace. Only then does she allow a tear to slide down her cheek.

She stands, still clutching the empty wine glass and wrapped in the blanket, and she presses her palm to the glass. He’s out there somewhere, waiting for her. The stars twinkle encouragingly as she silently pleads for them to guide her to him.

Then, just like every night, she folds the blanket carefully over the back of the couch. She recycles her wine glass and she picks up the pieces of her uniform from the floor and puts them in the refresher for tomorrow.

Tonight, she puts on a long, quilted nightgown. She wears it because it is chilly in her quarters.

But also because, for some unfathomable reason, it is his favorite.

She slides between the cool, desolate sheets and orders the lights off. Before she darkens the viewport, she turns onto her side to look out once more at the vast field of twinkling lights and she completes the ritual.

“Good night, Chakotay. I’ll see you soon,” she whispers to the stars.

#admiral janeway #kathryn janeway #janeway x chakotay #j/c #all the feels #star trek prodigy #save star trek prodigy #savestartrekprodigy #i wrote this #30daysofprodigy #fanfic

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mxpseudonym · 4 years ago

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Hii can you write something with tommy finding out that reader is like a genius or was a prodigy at something idk and has just been really humble and shy about it bc she's just kind and everyone's like wot the fook. please! if you want to lol :)

Warnings: guns!

A/N: This ended up being gender-neutral and made y/n a baddie with excellent aim. Hope you enjoy!

Mud squelched against your boots as you walked into Charlie's yard. You were given the task of alerting Tommy 30 minutes before his meeting in the Garrison. You left a bit early, knowing that the Peaky boys had been rowdy that day, and even as grown men, you were sure they were off challenging each other to something stupid. Sure enough, the sound of gunshots ringing through the air got louder as you reached your destination.

"That's our Finn!" Arthur whooped while putting his youngest brother in a headlock and burying his fist in his curling locks.

"Ah, Arthur, piss off!"

Finn tried to shove him off to no avail. Tommy only glanced at the scene before turning to look at the wooden crates stack and the broken glass below. For the first time in a while, the Shelby brothers and Isiah had a little free time and a little room to breathe. It was Arthur's idea to use that time to give Finn an impromptu shooting lesson.

It seemed like just yesterday, Polly was scolding John for letting Finn play with a loaded gun. Those days were over. However, Finn was now shooting with confidence and pretty good aim. Any sign that Arthur was sad he wasn't needed was nowhere to be found.

"You've been holding back on me, Finn!" Isiah punched the youngest Shelby much too hard in the arm. "Who taught you that? I bet it was John, right? With all those kids, he probably has good aim- ah!"

Punch returned.

"I don't want to hear that about my brother," Finn scoffed, wincing at the images attempting to form in his mind.

"Oi, Finn lad, I see your lessons are paying off," you called from your safe distance away from the weaponry. You received a warm welcome, though Tommy wanted answers.

"Lessons? Whose been teaching him?"

"Me," you said with a shrug as if it were obvious.

"You?" Arthur choked on the liquor he was sneaking from his pocket flask.

"Y/n's really good, Tommy," Finn assured while giving you a grateful smile.

"Is that right?" Tommy looked you over with a smirk but still let his eyebrows furrow with uncertainty. You, the kind and quiet bookkeeper better known for keeping the Garrison's books straight were a sharpshooter?

You rolled your eyes and held your hand out for Finn's gun. It was warm in your hand and a little heavy. You grinned as you noted it was the exact type you recommended him. He still earned a light smack to the back of the head, however.

"Didn't I tell you to always put the safety back on when you're done? Don't go waving this around," you scolded. Finn grumbled as you made your way away from the small crowd. "Mr. Shelby,"

"Yeah?" Tommy crossed his arms as he watched you check your bullets then assess the three remaining bottles on the crate. You raised the pistol and cleared your obstacles with precision even from your distance and off-center angle.

"Your meeting starts in half an hour."

"Y/n's a tough one!" John laughed loudly.

"Didn't know you could hold your own like that, y/n!" Arthur clapped your shoulder and tried to ruffle your hair, only to get smacked away.

"Can I get lessons, y/n?" Isiah gapped at you, making you laugh.

"Only if your dad says yes. Now, Mr. Shelby?" You turned to see Tommy lighting a cigarette.

"I heard you," he said with a nod. On your way back to the Garrison, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "You've been holding out on me, Y/n. How's about you come work for me?"

"I already work for you."

"You know what I mean, real work. Dirty work."

"Sure thing, Mr. Shelby."

#Tommy would make you into an assassin 2020 #Peaky Blinders Fanfic #Peaky Blinders one shot #Peaky Blinders Imagine #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby Imagine #Tommy Shelby One Shot #Tommy Shelby Fanfic #Finn Shelby #Isiah Jesus #John Shelby #Arthur Shelby #Mail Time #request fulfilled!

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alarriefantasy · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I hope you are having a good day so far! Do you have some fics you can recommend where one of them is a photographer? It’s a bonus if there’s smut but it’s not a must :D thank you so much! <3

Here you go, darling! I hope you’re having a good day too by the way!

Photography Fics

Omega Shoe Repair by musketrois (B_kate)

Words: 6k

“Can I help you with anything?” The worker asked.

Heat spread across Harry’s cheeks as he realized he had been silently staring.

“Yes!” Harry scrambled to find the words he needed when all he wanted to do was continue admiring his surroundings, the man included.

The man’s smile didn’t falter as Harry gathered himself, continuing, “I had some questions.”

Harry walked closer and placed his warm hands on the edge of the counter. “My favorite pair of boots need resoled but I wanted to check if you’d be willing to do that for me.”

or Harry needs to get his favorite pair of boots fixed.

I Long For You by PinkSeelie

Words: 6k

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

Don't Unplug Me Or Shut Me Down by slashter

Words: 7k

Basically, Louis is a self-proclaimed nerd who fixes things and Harry seems too perfect to keep breaking as many things as he does.

Roses Are Red by underthesunlight

Words: 8k

or the one where Harry dreams about writing and Louis is just out there, wearing flower-crowns and being awfully inspiring.

say that you can see me (i'll speak up i swear) by coffeelouis (streamtpwk)

Words: 20k

[or, the liberal arts COLLEGE AU where Harry knows Louis as the best friend of the boy he has been hopelessly in love with for years now and Louis knows Harry as the boy he wished would look away from Zayn long enough to notice him.]

We keep this love in a photograph. by saccharinesea

Words: 22k

When 23-year-old Louis finally finds a job as a photographer for the new Burberry charity fashion campaign after the roughest year of his life, he feels like his life has a meaning again.

When America's sweetheart Harry Styles understands that he needs to clear his image after scandalous pictures involving drugs, male strippers and radio host Nick Grimshaw, he will do anything to start from scratch.

Whipped Cream by writingstylinson

Words: 24k

[Harry is a deaf photographer in charge of taking Lottie's wedding pictures. Louis is determined for Harry to be his plus one.]

hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss by icedwaters

Words: 27k

(or louis is a 22 year old photographer in his third year of uni, and harry is his 19 year old cat-loving neighbor.)

blind from this sweet, sweet craving by missandrogyny

Words: 31k

There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

You're the Light by allwaswell16

Words: 31k

Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper and staying with his old college roommate. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

feels like home to me by tippytoetomlinstyles

Words: 34k

or the one where Harry is the quarterback who wants to be a photographer, Louis is the piano prodigy who like being a wallflower, and it's a roller coaster of a life but they're along for the ride.

Just Breathe by LittleLostPieces

Words: 35k

As a photographer, 18-year-old Harry loves a good snapshot, a well-preserved moment in time. He also likes kids an awful lot, has always wanted to raise a family with a loving and supportive partner of his own. Meeting Louis, a 25-year-old father of two, after a night out seems like the perfect realization of all of Harry's dreams really.

Louis, however, knows that one photograph can't begin to tell an accurate story of parenthood, of the joys and challenges of constantly living with wonderful, yet sometimes incredibly odd and frustrating, little humans. He's already had a partner who couldn't handle the pressures, one who left Louis with a mountain of doubt that anyone else will ever want to join his cracked family.

Falling in love is as easy as releasing the shutter. Developing the entire picture may take a little more time and effort than either of them expected.

I Would Take a Whisper (If That's All You Had To Give) by FallingLikeThis

Words: 40k

Louis is a photographer. Harry is a boy who wears flower crowns. Sounds like a match made in heaven, right? Louis thinks so, too. Unfortunately, Harry has a boyfriend. Can Louis steal his heart despite the fact that it's already supposed to be taken?

Hidden Gardens by pinky_heaven19

Words: 41k

OR the one where Louis owns a pub and Harry is a photographer who needs his help for a project. Louis is grumpy, Harry is not. Louis has a secret. There is some pining and a lot of fluff.

We'll Be Seamless by dinosaursmate

Words: 52k

Louis spends all his spare time scrolling arty nude blogs on Tumblr but amongst them all, Green is his favourite.

baby we could be enough (i'll make this feel like home) by orphan_account

Words: 52k

[harry is a photographer who's trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]

Every Story Has Its Scars, Ours Is a Brand New Start by Rearviewdreamer

Words: 62k

Life as a devoted husband and an amazing father turned out to be a little different than Louis had expected. Everyone tells him it doesn't have to be that way; that he's worth more and that he's so much stronger than any one person trying to keep him down. It's all just words though until he meets the one person who makes him truly believe it.

Picking Up The Pieces by Halos_Boat

Words: 72k

Harry just signed his second set of divorce papers. He felt like his life was over, like he had nothing left.

Then he meets Louis.

to lure a hummingbird (you had me moonstruck) by brokenbeaks

Words: 81k

Or: An enemies-to-lovers fic where Harry and Louis are neighbours who are forced to get along due to the inconvenience (or convenience) of a broken lift.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Words: 84k

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Where You Lay by HamPalpert

Words: 86k

When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles. Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

Words: 102k

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

We The Fireworks by happilylarreh (AfterJenny)

Words: 103k

The AU where Louis needs saving and Harry wants to save him but doesn’t want to admit that maybe he needs saving a little bit too.

Now In A Minute by thealmightyavocado

Words: 150k

Or the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth by MrsStylinson

Words: 290k

When Louis moves into the flat next to Harry's, neither of them thinks it will change their lives. Louis is stuck in a relationship with his controlling and overly possessive boyfriend who he loves too much to break up with. Harry is content, seeking refuge from the snobby world he grew up in and forging a new path for himself. He does happen to have a habit of wanting to fix people though and when he meets Louis, the gorgeous man with a prat of a boyfriend, he finds himself trying to do just that. While Harry tries to avoid getting tangled in a messy situation, Louis tries to deny that there's a niggling voice in the back of his head that prefers Harry to his own boyfriend. While both determinedly refuse to let change come, they fail to notice that exact force wrapping around them and pulling them tighter together until there just might be no escape from the feelings brewing within.

♡ credit to the owner of the manip

♡ past themed recs here

#ask

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shinsengumi-archives · 3 years ago

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Okita Souji [SHQ]

also known as Souzi, Soushi or Soji

Born in Tenpou 13 (1844) (some say Tenpou15), died Meiji 1 (1868), May 30 (Unsure of the converted date; may be July19).

Hometown: Shirakawa

Style: Tennen Rishin Ryuu

Swords: Kikuichimonji Norimune (might be unlikely because it had the status of a national treasure), Kaga Kiyomitsu (both katana)

Original name: Okita (some say Harumasa) Soujirou

Soujirou was born into a samurai family in Shirakawa, the oldest son of Okita Katsujirou (or Shuujirou? the translator is unclear). His parents having died when he was little, he was raised by his older sister (Omitsu) and her husband (Rintaro). Rintaro was originally from the Inoue family (related to Inoue Genzaburou), and was adopted into the Okita family upon his marriage.

At nine years of age, Okita began kenjutsu at Shieikan. There, he was close friends with Kondou, Hijikata, and Inoue (and later Harada, Toudou, Yamanami, and Nagakura). It is said that they were almost like brothers.

It was also discovered that he had a great talent for kenjutsu (a prodigy). By his teens, he had mastered all the techniques of Tennen Rishin Ryuu, and in Bunkyuu 1 at age eighteen, he began teaching it himself. Equally skilled with he shinai, bokken/bokutou, and katana, he attained Menkyo Kaiden status at a young age. It is said that he loved children a lot, and rumor has it that he was very good-looking (perhaps this is according to the standards of the time, or perhaps due to popular fiction).

In Bunkyuu 3 (1863), he left for Kyoto with Kondou and the others to join the Roushitai. After its disbanding, he became the captain of the first unit of the Roushigumi (later Shinsengumi) and Fukuchou Jokin (Vice-Commander's Assistant). He was said to be one of the top three swordsmen of the group, together with Saitou Hajime and Nagakura Shinpachi. Others argue that he was the best. His signature attack was the Sandanzuki ("three-piece thrust"), an attack derived from an invention of Hijikata's (the Hirazuki).

Okita later contracted tuberculosis (some say he did during the early days of the group, but others say it must have been later). His illness was discovered during the Ikedaya affair when he coughed up blood (coughing up blood is a sign of very advanced stages of TB it would be unlikely he survived this long after Ikedaya, perhaps this was added later for dramatic purposes). Kondou and Hijikata elected to keep Okita's illness a secret from the troops, in order to keep their morale up. Doctor Matsumoto Ryoujun treated him, and he did use Ishida Sanyaku (Hijikata family medicine) and the Sato family medicine to ease his illness. By Keiou 3, his condition had become so bad that he had to be left behind in Edo. There, he spent the rest of his days in a hospital. He inquired after Kondou constantly, since he was never told of his execution. It is also said that Okita tried to kill a black cat. He died May 30 (converted date?), Meiji 1 (1868), without witness.

*There is also something on Okita's page at http://toshizo.com/name that mentions someone confessed love to him in Bunkyuu 2, and he declined saying "Because I am still in training." This may be an error from the translating software, but it could also be true.

A Note on Okita's Sword by Shimazu Masayoshi

The Kiku-ichimon-ji Norimune is reputed to be the sword Okita used. However, it is HIGHLY unlikely that that was his sword, mainly owing to the fact that "Kiku-ichimonji," or "Chrysanthemum-crest," is the crest of the Emperor, and the swordsmith Norimune, having been in attendance to Emperor Go-Toba, was allowed to stamp the tang of his blades (the part the handle wraps around) with the Imperial crest. Therefore, the sword, even in the pre-Meiji era, had the status of a national treasure. So it's highly unlikely that Okita, a man who was the son of a low-ranking ashigaru (ashigaru were foot soldiers who are considered by some to have not even had full samurai rank), would have such a sword.

However, http://www.toshizo.com/nozoku/index.html lists a more likely candidate for Okita's favorite sword-- the Kaga Kiyomitsu. You can see a picture of what I believe is a replica here- http://www2.taiyo-planet.co.jp/konc/konc-shohin/japan/kit/img/kit-027a-ko.jpg, and it's possible to buy it here http://www2.taiyo-planet.co.jp/konc/konc-shohin/japan/kit/kit-027a.htm. Even says he used it at Ikedaya.

His Final Resting Place Okita's ashes are at Zempukuji Temple located in Akasaka Tokyo.

#shq #okita #Bio

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tsukkiscake · 4 years ago

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what goes on || tsukki x reader || ch. 11

✰ previous || next

✰ masterlist!

✰ taglist open!

✰ wordcount: 3.3k

During your middle school years, you were always in advanced classes. This meant being in class with some of the same kids every year. Tsukishima Kei was one of them. You guys had been in the same class for all of middle school. At the end of your last semester of middle school, you hear Tsukishima and another one of your classmates, Yamaguchi Tadashi, discussing their plans to attend Karasuno High School. Looks like another year of Tsukishima for you. This year, you were determined to become at least his friend. This was proving to be a lot harder than you originally intended.

Chapter Eleven: Adore You

It was finally the first day of the Inter-High Tournament. You woke up with fond memories of the night before when Tsukki had come over. You smiled and glanced out your window at the street painted blue with an early morning glow. You stretched your arms and yawned, not wanting to get out of your comfy bed but knowing you had a train to catch soon.

You climbed out of bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom to begin getting ready. You went through your usual morning routine but decided to change up your hair for the day. You opted for a half-up-half-down hairstyle with little clips adorning your hair. You took one final glance in the mirror, happy with how you looked.

Though the summer heat was in full force, the evenings and early mornings in Sendai could get chilly, so you opted to wear a pair of high-waisted, blue paperbag shorts with a white t-shirt. You grabbed a cardigan to wear in case the cool air was too much. You grabbed the bag of clothes you had packed the night before, along with your phone, headphones, and wallet. You pulled up your messages with Ichiko and sent a short message telling her you were about to leave for Sendai.

Ichiko had promised to meet you at the train station and walk you to the Sendai City Gymnasium, however, she couldn’t stay for the matches due to having piano lessons on Saturdays. You walked out of your room and to the kitchen, grabbing the bentos you had made the previous night to bring today. You made two, one for breakfast on the train and one for lunch at the gym. You tucked them neatly into your bag and grabbed your house keys before getting ready to leave. You slipped on your white trainers and left the house, locking the door behind you.

Your train was due to leave in forty-five minutes and you were a twenty minute walk from the station. You put on your headphones and shuffled your favorite mix to get ready for the day ahead.

You arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare, but it was too early for many of the shops to be open so you pulled out your phone and decided to send Tsukki a goodmorning/good luck text.

New Message

To: tsukki

good morning tsukki! be sure to eat a healthy breakfast! i’m rooting for you today!

You took a photo of yourself doing peace signs to send with the text message. You smiled at your phone screen and sent the message before mindlessly scrolling through different apps, waiting for the train to come. You sat contently as Adore You by Harry Styles rang through your headphones.

Honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

___________________________________

After the forty-five minute train ride, which you fell asleep on, you were in Sendai. It was currently 8:30 in the morning and the matches weren’t due to begin for a couple of hours. You looked around the Sendai station, searching for any signs of Ichiko. You had texted her before leaving but never got a response, hopefully she remembered the time of your train.

After searching for a couple of minutes, you were about ready to give up and walk to the gymnasium on your own, but you saw Ichiko running at you at full force. Her hair was in a messy bun and it looked like she was still in pajamas.

You laughed slightly as you removed your headphones to greet her.

“Did you just wake up?”

Ichiko kneeled over, hands on her knees as she took heavy breaths. “Yes, you should’ve CALLED me when you were getting close to Sendai, you know how I always oversleep,” Ichiko whined and stood up straight, regaining her composure only momentarily before tackling you in a hug. “It’s so good to see you again, I missed you.”

You laughed and returned her hug. “I’m glad to see you too, it would’ve been better if you had been on time to the station but it’s okay, I’ll forgive you, because I love you,” you smiled as Ichiko finally released her grip on you.

She smiled and poked your cheek, a gesture you guys had started when you were both young that never went away. “I love you too, (Y/N)-chan,” she looped her arm through yours and began to walk you in the direction of the gymnasium. “I’m starving, do you want to get something to eat before I drop you off at the gym?” Ichiko asked.

“I had a bento on the train, but I could go for some tea!” You smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Great! I know this adorable little cafe on the way to the gym that serves tea and breakfast,” she laughed and sped up her walking pace, essentially dragging you alongside her.

“Okay, okay, don’t tug my arm off Ichi-chan.”

___________________________________

You and Ichiko were sitting outside of a small book cafe, you had ordered a hot green tea while Ichiko ordered two pastries as well as a smoothie. You were sipping your tea while Ichiko slurped down her smoothie, watching the people of Sendai walk by. It was so nice being in a cityscape. Everything near your house was just the boring old countryside.

“So which boy on the volleyball team do you like?” Ichiko asked.

You felt your cheeks heat up immediately at her question. “W-why do you think I like any of them?” You wanted the question to come out as offended and strong, but it came out sounding embarrassed and shocked, like she knew something you didn’t want her to. You didn’t like anyone on the volleyball team, but for some reason your thoughts wandered to how you and Tsukki had hung out last night.

“Why else would you come all the way to Sendai for a volleyball game? It’s not even an interesting sport to watch,” Ichiko scoffed and laughed. She figured she had struck a nerve with her question.

“For your information, volleyball is very fun to watch. This isn’t my first time watching the team, plus I help out at practices sometimes,” you tried your best to avoid her initial question.

“Stop avoiding my question (Y/N)-chan, I know you too well for you to try,” she laughed again.

“I don’t like anyone on the team, I’m just friends with them. Two of the first year players are in my class at school, that’s how I got to know the team,” you shrug, trying to be nonchalant.

“Hmmm, okay. But I don’t believe you. Guess I’ll have to figure it out at tomorrow’s match, if they make it that far,” Ichiko took a bite out of her chocolate pastry.

“You’re coming to the match tomorrow?” You asked, not expecting Ichiko to want to come. She just said volleyball was boring and her schedule was usually extremely busy.

“Well, duh. I gotta meet this boy you’re in love with and I wanna spend more time with you!” She laughed and shoved your shoulder. “If you’re here to watch volleyball games, I’ll be there with you. Other than today of course, my parents won’t let me skip piano even though I don’t need lessons anymore,” she sighed with exasperation.

“Your parents don’t want you to forget you’re a prodigy,” you laughed. Ichiko had been an extremely talented piano player when you met her and she only got better through grade school. You watched her win awards and play recitals all over the country. “Also I’m not in love with anyone on the team, I just told you that,” you sighed with frustration, but you could never stay mad at Ichiko. She was just too lovable.

“We’ll see,” she laughed and finished her second pastry. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the gym before I go to my lessons,” Ichiko stood up, dusted the crumbs off of her pajamas and offered a hand to you. “Lets go, (Y/N)-chan.”

You smiled up at her and grabbed her hand. You guys walked like that, hand-in-hand, for the majority of the way to the gymnasium. You noticed some funny looks from passersby, but didn’t mind. Ichiko made you feel like everything was okay, and you didn’t want to let go.

You guys approached the gym and she finally let go of your hand.

“Okay, okay, do you have an estimated time of when you’ll be done? I’ll try my best to come pick you up so you don’t get lost,” Ichiko smiled at you.

“I’m not really sure, I think the afternoon games start at 1:30 so if our team gets to the second game they should be done around 3:30 or 4:00 I think. I’ll text you updates,” you smiled back at Ichiko. Being around her made you forget the loss of your mom. It made you feel like a child again.

“Hmm, okay I’ll try to be here at 3:00 and if they’re still playing, I can stay and watch with you. Now I gotta run, I’ll be late to piano if I don’t. I love you, (Y/N)-chan. Root for your team for me!” Ichiko wrapped you in a bear hug before running off the way you had come.

You watched her leave before approaching the gymnasium. There were so many teams milling around the outside of the gym, your eyes began to scan the crowds for a certain lanky, blonde male.

Once you spotted Tsukki, standing out above the crowd, even in a sea of tall boys, you smiled and began to walk towards the team. Hinata was the first to notice you.

“(Y/N)!” Hinata yelled and ran over to you, jumping like a maniac.

You laughed and patted his orange hair. “Hi, Hinata. It’s good to see you too.”

The rest of the team began to approach you as well. You smiled at everyone and greeted them.

“Thank you for the treats, (Y/N), the entire team appreciated them. But how come you weren’t able to give them to use yourself? Yamaguchi said you weren’t in school for the day either,” Daichi gave you his concerned dad look. You smiled at his kindness.

“I wasn’t feeling too well yesterday, I think I stayed up too late baking,” you laughed and quickly glanced at Tsukki. You were glad he hadn’t told anyone about your argument yesterday.

“Well we all really liked the melon bread, especially Tanaka, he kept raving about it,” Daichi laughed.

You glanced over at Tanaka and saw his cheeks were pink. “Melon bread is my favorite food and it was a nice treat, what about it?” He yelled and you laughed.

“I’m glad you liked it Tanaka-senpai. I’ll be sure to make extra for you next time,” you smiled at him and he looked like his brain had short circuited.

Daichi laughed and gave you another small smile. “Alright everyone, let’s get inside and get checked in. The first match is in forty-five minutes.”

You watched as Nishinoya and Ennoshita pushed a broken Tanaka towards the doors and Hinata and Kageyama tried to race. As everyone else began to walk towards the doors, you caught up with Tsukki and tried to walk next to him, his long legs allowed for lengthy strides, however, and you struggled to match his pace.

“Will you slow down you idiot bean pole? I’m trying to walk with you,” you huffed.

“I don’t walk next to runts,” Tsukki said, as he slowed his strides to match your pace.

“Whatever, softie. You love to walk with me,” you smirked in victory up at him. He glared down at you, but his eyes were soft.

“Whatever,” he huffed.

You smiled and walked with him in a comfortable silence. While Ichiko made you feel like a child without any problems, Tsukki made you feel like you weren’t alone in dealing with them. Being around him made the burden feel so much lighter, as if the load was being shared by the two of you.

“You better win today, I’m counting on being able to come see matches today and tomorrow. My friend Ichi-chan might even come so you guys gotta be good,” you shoved him slightly as the two of you walked behind the rest of the team.

“Well now that I know some random friend of yours is coming, we’ve gotta win huh?” He shoved you back, harder, making you stumble as you walked.

“Hey! I just thought I’d give you more reasons to want to win, no need to shove me,” you huffed and turned your nose up at him. “If you’re gonna be like that, maybe I’ll just root for the opposing team and hope they beat you guys into a pulp so I can go hangout with my friend for the day,” you let out a dramatic sigh before laughing.

“Whatever, I don’t care what you do,” he stated, before looking at you with kind eyes. You noticed that in public, Tsukki only seemed to smile with his eyes, not letting the uninterested look on his face change all that much.

“Sure you don’t,” you smiled and almost walked into Nishinoya who had stopped short in front of you. You glanced around Nishinoya, trying to get a view of what made the team stop. Up ahead, in teal and white tracksuits was a school you didn’t know about. “Who’s that?” You whispered to Tsukki.

“Aoba Johsai High School. One of Kageyama’s upperclassmen is on that team and he’s apparently a really good setter. We played a practice match against them and won but I think we won because Oikawa, the good setter, wasn’t there for the majority of the game.”

“Oh, so you guys are like rivals?” You asked him.

“I guess you could say that. But they’re almost always the second best in the prefecture. They have a way better team than we do, I don’t know if we can beat them and Oikawa,” Tsukki said, looking over the crowd towards the other team.

“Well you don’t know if you’ll lose until the final ball touches the ground,” you nudged him softly. “Don’t get all scared now, you guys are gonna kill it.”

“I’m not scared, there’s no need to be. What happens will happen,” Tsukki shrugged.

“You should be more enthusiastic than that Mr. Apathetic,” you sighed and shook your head at Tsukki’s disinterested attitude. Daichi clapped his hands to get the team's attention.

“Okay guys! Official warm-ups start in 30 minutes, I want everyone stretched and loose, ready for the first game. Remember, focus on the opponent at hand before you start worrying about the next opponent!” Daichi pulled everyone into a huddle for a pre-warm-up chant. You stepped back, not wanting to intrude on their team traditions.

You watched as everyone put their heads together and yelled “Karasuno, FIGHT!”

___________________________________

The second set against Tokonami High School was currently underway and you were watching intently. You cheered each time Karasuno scored and gave them waves when the boys glanced up at you. Tsukki had been adamantly avoiding your gaze which made you feel frustrated, but you still continued to cheer extra hard for him. You watched as Karasuno increased their lead against Tokonami.

You admired the boys of the volleyball team, they gave one hundred percent effort in each of their plays.

Before you knew it, the second set was wrapping up with Karasuno winning 25 to 14. It was before noon, so you knew the boys had some time to cool down and eat lunch before their next game at 1:30. You smiled down at the team before grabbing your things and running down to meet them in the gym lobby.

You jumped off the last stair and began running through the crowds of people to the doors to the court. You stopped and watched the boys walk through the doors, an air of victory surrounding them. You smiled to yourself and you could just tell how proud they were.

You walked over to them with the widest smile on your face. Nishinoya and Tanaka were there to greet you first. The two boys jumped towards you to give you high-fives. You used both hands to give each of them a high-five while praising them on a game well played.

“You guys were so awesome, you did so well!” You gave them a big smile and they both looked ready to pass out from receiving praise from you. They smiled sheepishly at one another and wandered off.

You greeted and gave congratulations to each player. After having attended so many practices, you were getting used to all of the team members and they were all getting used to you. Tsukki and Yamaguchi were the last two to walk through the gym doors and you gave Yamaguchi a high-five and congratulated him, even though he hadn’t played in the game.

You stood in front of Tsukki, looking up at him, and gave him the biggest smile you could muster.

“Good job, Tsukki. I’m proud of you,” you gave him a thumbs up.

He scoffed and walked around you. “I don’t need praise from a runt,” even though his words were laced with their usual coldness, he put a hand on top of your head and ruffled your hair slightly.

You giggled softly at how he ruffled your hair. “Fine, if you don’t want praise, I’ll make sure to tell everyone, except you, that they played well,” you turned your nose up at him and began to walk towards Kageyama and Hinata, who were having some random competition in the middle of the walkway.

Tsukki stopped you by putting his hand back on your head. “I was kidding, you loser,” he said. He leaned down so his mouth was close to your ear and whispered, “Don’t stop. You help me play better.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up at his words. You couldn’t manage to form any words so you just nodded and mumbled something incoherent.

Why did Tsukki have that effect on you? Why was he able to scramble all of your thoughts with a simple seven words?

Tsukki removed his hand and began to walk towards his team, leaving you frozen. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the lingering feeling of Tsukki’s breath against your ear.

You sighed and then took quick steps in order to catch up to Tsukki. You walked by his side silently. Thoughts of Ichiko’s questions about who you liked on the volleyball team suddenly filled your mind. You glanced up at Tsukki and thought about how he made you feel versus the rest of the team.

Everything with Tsukki could be so complicated though. Just yesterday morning he was upset with you but by the end of the day he was at your house eating dinner with you. You thought about the emotional rollercoaster your friendship was with Tsukki. It made you smile, though, thinking of the moments you two had shared.

But that didn’t mean you liked him. Tsukki just knew how to press your buttons in the right way. That’s the type of person Tsukki was, he loved to press the buttons of the people around him.

You sighed, frustrated by your feelings. You definitely didn’t like Tsukki.

Right?

✰ I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING FOR SO LONG I HAVE BEEN SO BUSY AND HAVE HAD NO MOTIVATION IM SO SORRY ⊙﹏⊙

✰ but here’s a nice long chapter for your enjoyment 😌

✰ thank you so much for 167 followers on here and over 1200 hits on ao3 im so soft i’m so glad you guys like the story so much,,, again im so sorry for not updating for so long i’ve been in a not so good head place recently and this story was not my top priority for the meantime

✰ taglist: @mitiyou @goopycookie @freyafolkvangr @miracleboy420 (saw your user changed!) @akaashislefttoe @animeanxiety @ysasian @childoftheplanets @flouffyy @cjs-weeb-corner @montys-chaos @loser-keiji @phantomabiding @totorosleaff @vianey2527 @winunk @smuttyanimeslut (saw your user changed!) @amberisnotcrazy @burnmyart @mindofess @bunny-on-crack @fern-writes-ig @korean-bbq @slippinglasses

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cospinol · 3 years ago

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charlotte can i get a like Factions And Locations Overview TM for scverse im trying to decide where my scverse oc would be

YES sorry this took ten thousand years. as you can see i spent most of my time on this ultra high quality map↓. click it to actually see anything on this

theoretically it wraps around, all one sad little planet. OKAY with that visual reference in mind let's do factions/locations !

The northern Four Kingdoms (area labelled West Realm/Rose Domain/East Realm here it doesn't say four kingdoms on it sorry) is the setting of centre of the sun. Verdant & idyllic fantasy kingdom without much intl political clout or significant military power (tho it did recently experience a very bloody civil war); it's united primarily by devotion to sun deity Akadia, who blessed it with the four chosen ones known as sunborn, you know the drill (but even moreso by dislike of the realm due south)

The South Realm (due south of the northern four kingdoms.. you know) has been the fourth of the Four Kingdoms for several centuries, but spent nearly a thousand years as an empire that spanned much of the world; people still often refer to it as the Tasier Empire to this day. Its territory was already much decayed when one of its sovereigns chose to cut his losses and declare allegiance to the high king of the then-Three Kingdoms, but every Tasier king since has had ambitions of reclaiming their former glory, (up to and including their current sovereign Ehen . you may have heard of him). Because of the centuries they spent at best encroaching on the borders of the northern 4k, there's some ultra-enduring bad blood between the two lol

The Illyn Islands/Shallow Sea (east of the 4k) is the only place with more bad blood with the South Realm than the north, lol, the Tasiers have always been at war with all their neighbours but they've REALLY always been at war with the Illyns. The Illyns also spend most of their time at war with each other; it's not really a nation so much as a collection of micro-principalities ruled by dozens(hundreds?) of little branches of the Illyn family. It's also not really a sea; though it does have some larger bodies of water, in many parts the 'sea' that separates its 'island'-principalities is only a foot or two deep, and large stretches of it are actually just dry land. false advertising

The Izar Empire, a dry and arid nation on the east side of the shallow sea, prides itself on being the world's oldest empire, with its royal line going unbroken for upward of two thousand years; whether that's serving them very well is up for debate since that imperial core is historically poorly-governed, and it's supported mainly by the prosperity of semi-independent provinces around its edges + thru trade deals with its little neighbours. Fwiw they do boast of some pretty impressive temples designed by Akadia herself to commemorate where the deities first touched down on earth (though the Illyns contend hotly that Akadia's first step on the planet was actually in the shallow sea)

The most notable of the Izars' more successful neighbours btw are the Moon Twin City-States, the three cities lined up along the eastern edge of the Shallow Sea; they're well-placed b/w the izars/4k/sea and have historically prospered on trade. Also worth mentioning is the Laevin Administrative Region to the Izar's southeast (or kevin to its friends. whatever), a collection of cities ruled by an oligarchic council created specifically with the intention of (profiting by) mediating relations between its neighbours

Due north of all of this btw (chain of islands all across the top of the map, i know they look very great) is Ciellan, a technocracy historically devoted centrally to magical & technological progress, especially piecing together partial designs/ruins of ancient pre-divine machinery/etc. They boast some of the world's best libraries & a great education system but huuuge economic disparity/it’s a miserable place to live for most ppl, and in the past several centuries they haven't advanced much at all. They're the home country of the coalition of architects that worked to create floating cities according to whose blueprints the deities' city was built, and they also later built their own floating city; in retribution moon god Ilida (seeing their 'imitation' city as a slight to his mother's sacrifice) hit them with the first of his three curses upon humanity; this one prevents anyone born in Ciellan or w/ Ciellais ancestry from wielding magic relics in any capacity ww

Anyways, back to main continent, to the east of the Izars is the Aua Empire, which also claims to be the world's oldest empire, and is also technically correct; Aua was founded first, but has spent much of its time split into 1-7 provinces viciously at war with each other. Its sovereignty changes hands often, & it's tradition for its aristocrats/royals to send their children away to be raised by other people so that they can select their heirs with as much objectivity as possible... Aua is resource-rich and largely prosperous despite its political instability; it's currently been under the same very successful leadership for the past few decades, though those current sovereigns are ambitious +tending towards war w/ their neighbours

East of Aua (and west of the four kingdoms) is the Dai Empire, which is referred to as an empire basically as a joke; it's not even really a country, it's scattered with towns and settlements and stuff but they really are scattered and there's no larger governing body of any kind. Dai is commonly considered a land forsaken by the gods both because it's the only area of earth that none of them ever took to/chose to live in/acted as patron to and also bc it has a lot of other weird stuff going on; it's very difficult to navigate and downright impossible to map, a random collection of biomes in random orders that seems to change every time you come back to it. It also has the highest yield of relics (more on them later) than anywhere else in the world, but they're also considered weird/undivine. It's also affected by a wide variety of curses, some divine & some others, also more on those later lol

with factions out of the way we can now do species / special features!!

Human ok you know what humans are. Worth noting that all humans on earth are descended from fish ppl who were given the ability to live on land by the deities, but functionally they're humans yeah

Magic users make up about 30% of the world's population, though it's a hard number to measure since magic here mostly manifests in pretty mundane ways; its three branches are prophecy (visions of the future, to varying degrees), communication (over long distance, & with plants/animals), and body (healing, mainly). It's largely an academic art (healing magic requires an understanding of the medical process you're trying to recreate, star prophecies are more useful with knowledge of standard star charts etc), but there are always little prodigies who can talk to bugs perfectly from birth or w/e. Magic use can manifest in members of any (sub)species !

Relic Bearers are people chosen to take care of divine relics (mysterious objects with some unusual magic property or other, artifacts from the mysterious civilization that existed on earth before current humanity; a handful were discovered by the deities during their time on earth, and the rest were discovered after their arrival and dedicated to a deity by their followers), generally by way of a gentle glow appearing around the relic when the new bearer is in its vicinity. Most relics' locations/bearers are kept track of by the followers of the deity they're devoted to, and bearers generally live a life of relative luxury. Dai relics btw are usually not devoted to any deity/traced by a specific church, tho they’re generally just as potent

Seam Holders are a new phenomenon; about ten years pre-hbtw the first large-scale divine manifestation since the deities left earth occurred, in the form of weather god Aema physically appearing to announce to a whole city that he was dedicating a portion of his power to a human chosen one (Emery Illyn! :)) and that other deities would be following suit soon. Word spread immediately, obviously, since a full-body manifestation/projection a deity hadn't happened since the deities left earth (& it wasn't his real physical form obv, but even a large-scale projection like this is completely unprecedented), and many other deities manifesting to announce chosen ones did follow suit. The mechanic behind this is that those chosen ones are stumbling across 'seams', portions of the deities' power used to 'stitch' the world back together when evil god Jarun tried his best to tear it apart back in the day... 2500 years on those deep-buried seams are resurfacing them again, when a mortal with potential comes across them they enter into a contract with the deity that allows them to channel a pretty big portion of the deity's power+ they get a direct hotline to the deity at all times +can sometimes manifest projections of them. Whee!

Dead Sea witches are a small portion of the population of one small kingdom (Pelagia), who can interact with the ghosts of the creatures that lived in the primordial sea where their dry-land country now exists. Many of them can also interface with a little pocket dimension referred to as the Dead Sea which may or may not be a preserved version of that ancient sea!

Back to more basic stuff, dragons are a human subspecies, who got slightly different biology from regular humans from [perpetually unnamed deity of strength]. Io a pretty typical example; they're blue, their skin is scattered w/ little inset scales, they have big flaps for ears (+sometimes horns), they're several times stronger and more durable than humans

Worms are another human subspecies, optically identical to humans (their skin colour always nearly exactly matches their hair colour, but that's not necessarily a tell) but several times stronger and more durable even than dragons. They're also even more devoted to the pursuit of strength (their deity is battle-focused); while most dragons live as part of regular society, most worms live in travelling mercenary-bands and spend most of their time at war. They have a fun feature where they can regenerate lost limbs (albeit slowly) and relish losing em in battle bc they generally come back stronger

Anemones are the only amphibious species on earth, and aren't considered fully human since they took a slightly different deal from the rest of humanity, which allows them to divide their time between land and sea at the cost of being much more fragile than humans. They come in a fun variety of colours & patterns & often have tentacles for hair :)

Moonblue is the term used to describe bearers of moon god Ilida's second curse upon humanity (this one on the aua empire for its participation in the floating city coalition, but it also affects large portions of the dai empire too because ilida's aim isn't great); it's randomly occurring and not hereditary, & gives its bearers unusual magic powers in exchange for severe physical remunerations. There are a number of other curses that occur in dai w/ similar features, but the moonblue curse is recognizable because its bearers all have blue/white skin and hair

Demons are the result of Ilida's third and final curse (chronologically the first, i'm all out of order here rip), bestowed specifically upon first demon king Ruka+his village+all their descendants entirely for pissing him off on a personal level. This one gives you cute horns + a lifespan about double that of humans, because it really was tailored to piss of one specific guy & most of its inheritors don't consider it a curse / they're essentially just another human subspecies

IS THAT EVERYTHING AHHHHHHHHH... i wish i had cute imgs/chara examples for all these areas/factions. theres also mooore if theres a spot on the map i haven't explained let me know... but that's a general overview :D!!!

#asks #ispybluesky #oc tag #THIS IS SO LONG MY GOD I HOPE THE READMORE WORKS FOR EVERYONE #long post #jic #scverse tag

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