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jimlingss · 4 years ago

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Moirai [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 6.2k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You turn the corner and dart down the hall. “My lady!” There’s a parade of maids chasing after you, Joan included in the bunch, and a frightened guard whose metal armour clanks with each movement. You grin, swinging your wooden sword around at them with a ‘huzzah!’. Pretending you’re a champion, you twirl around the pillar with one arm. But even with your theatrics, they’re still meters away and out of reach. “Please! Come back! You have your dance lessons!” You stick out your tongue. “Then catch me!” It’s been one full year since you’ve started learning swordsmanship and admittedly, it’s become one of your most favourite times of the day. It beats sitting at a desk with the old fart droning on and on about dumb things you already know or having your posture criticized over and over again during dance lessons. You’re frankly getting tired of having information and insults shoved down your throat. Sword lessons are the only time you can be out in the sun and do whatever you want. You can tell that you’re improving too. It’s a pain in the ass to get the guards to take you seriously, but sometimes the tips and tricks they give are pretty helpful. It’s fun. Especially when there are people desperately chasing you. “P-Please!” one of the girls cries out, running out of breath. One of the best perks about being a five-year old is having endless energy in your body. And you’ll happily take advantage of that while you still can. “Pirates never give up! Argh, matey!” But your play time is unfortunately interrupted by a deadpanning voice— “What are you doing?” The familiar sharp voice sends shivers up your spine and you freeze. Your parade halts on their heels as well, immediately dropping their heads to the ground and placing one hand over the other reverently. “Your grace.” “What is going on here?” Your mother’s footsteps echo through the marble hall, ball gown dragged behind her as her scrutinizing eyes lay on the help, the knight and then to you. “I’m so sorry,” Joan is quick to confess, “The lady refuses to attend her dance practices.” And she’s quick to throw you under the bus. If you could, you’d stick up your middle finger at her. Your mother turns, her glare laid upon you. You brace yourself. “This is not how the future Devereux head should act.” Her voice is above a slight murmur, yet chilling and heavy. Her narrowed eyes have dimmed as they look upon you. She doesn’t need to yell to be frightening. “The Chevalier household has their youngest daughter playing piano and they recently went to the castle to show her talent. How will you compete, Anastasia?” “I—” “Or will you continue to tarnish our family’s name by being a child?” You are a child. Technically. The woman looms over you, her demeanour imposing and the burden of the household’s name lays upon your shoulders. You can’t help but feel small. It’s no wonder Anastasia took the Prince’s kindness as love and fell for him so quickly. Moments with him were her moments of freedom. You stay quiet, solemn, knowing it’s not worth arguing. Your eyes instead focus on a younger maid who’s silently snickering to herself and before you can make note for later, your vision blurs. “From now on, your swordsmanship lessons will be retracted until you’ve caught up with the rest of your lessons,” she says while looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance. “The only places you are to be permitted in for the next month is your room and the study—” It’s unfair. A punishment that doesn’t fit the crime. But your voice doesn’t come out of your mouth. The world tilts on an axis. It swirls. Your head is lightweight. And before you could figure out what’s happening, there’s a shrill cry for you — “my lady!” — and you feel yourself falling back before the universe becomes pitch black. An abyss of nothing. // “Why did she faint?!” When you come to, your first thought is that you’ve died. Again. Illness. Heart attack. Maybe from the plague. Fuck. It’s frightening and you feel an urge to cry, knowing that you yet again didn’t complete your goal of living a long and fruitful life. That the years spent fighting for your survival were ultimately useless. But then you hear far away voices and realize your fingers can twitch. The soft mattress underneath you registers soon after and it sinks in that you’re in your room, bedridden. “Well….your grace…” “On with it! I didn’t bring you here to waste my time!” “Herrick…” Oh right. It’s the Eve of the Solar Festival, isn’t it? A day where commoners celebrate the empire and wish for its everlasting prosperity. You remember since you’ve never gone before. Around this same time last year and the year before that, you fell ill in the exact same way — cold, chest aching, dizzy spells. It’s odd. Usually you aren’t so weak and yet somehow, you always get better in the morning once the festival is over. You don’t remember this ever being mentioned in the original game either. Or at least Anastasia never said anything about it and she would’ve totally milked it for the Prince’s attention if she could’ve. But maybe it’s an outside detail. Something the game developers were going to include in a future DLC. “We don’t know what’s happening to the lady, your grace,” the healer says. Your father bellows from his stomach, “Excuse me?!” “H-Her pulse reads well and she has no fever either. I-It’s a very unusual case.” In your half-consciousness, you perceive the bitter silence. “Heal her at all costs.” Your father’s footsteps fade and your mother sighs. You wish you couldn’t hear. Otherwise, it would be easy to demonize the pair as unsympathetic, psychopathic parents who only consider their daughter a chess piece. You’re sure the only reason they’re expressing so much concern is because you are the only heir after all. They really have no future if Anastasia dies. But it’s still hard to quell the hope that they actually care for your wellbeing. Still, you wish you couldn’t hear their desperation. It wouldn’t have to be so conflicting. Or bittersweet. The only time they show an ounce of their affection is when you’re on your deathbed. You muster the strength to open your eyes once everyone’s left the room. Most likely, you’ll live through this. You still have yet to have any of the game’s encounters or even start. Anastasia was alive for most of it, enough to terrorize the main character, so you’ll live too. Shit. When does the game start again? The opening scene was right before the debutante ball was held for all the girls in the empire. You count on your fingers — give or take, there’s twelve or thirteen years left…. But you remember from the wiki fan page that Anastasia became engaged to the Crown Prince when they were kids. Oh god. If you weren’t so weak, you’d roll over and scream into your pillow. There’s an unsettling feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach. No matter how much effort you put forth, you don’t know how you’re going to avoid that arrangement.

Turns out, it’s unavoidable. It begins two years later at seven years old, the D-day that you were dreading, the first domino that begins all the others. “No! Please!” The entire household is stunned at how you’ve grabbed onto the Duke’s leg and wrapped your limbs around his appendage, practically dead weight and not allowing him to move a single step. All your life, you’ve kept a good amount of distance between your parents — never daring to overstep your boundaries or sass them back no matter how much you wanted to. It’s more trouble than it’s worth anyway and it’s better to play on their good side. But you’ve thrown in the towel. This is your last desperate attempt. “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll go to all my dance lessons and all my history lessons and all my math lessons. Please, papa! Please!” You’re practically crying aloud. You wish someone would help you. “I don’t want to go to the Royal Palace!” Edith is shaking her head while Joan is mortified at the sidelines. Your mother’s expression is twisted in disgust while your dad is wholly aghast. Hey — it’s not like you wanted to do this either, alright?! But your pleas fall on deaf ears. To them, it’s merely the whining of a child. A temper tantrum. “My lady, please stop this,” Joan harshly whispers and rushes to pry your grip off of the Duke’s leg. Several others come too, maids and kitchen staff alike. Your strength is no match for theirs. “My stomach hurts!” Your father has no sympathy. “We’ve delayed enough times, Anastasia. If we postpone the meeting with the King again, it would be shameful to our house. Now get up.” He’s done hearing the excuses — and while you’d usually internally call him out for being an ass, the moment you heard he wanted to take you to the palace, you did claim you have a fever. Then you claimed diarrhea. A cough. Hid for several hours. You’re actually surprised you managed to delay it for this long. “There’s no choice, my lady,” Joan mutters quickly as she fixes the ribbons in your pretty hairdo. “You must go with the Duke today.” Deep down, you know it’s true. You’ll be pulled along anyhow. But you wish they would understand that this is a matter of life and death for you. Your silence is a sign of raising the white flag and Joan retracts back to her place as your dad turns to leave the manor. He adjusts his hat as he’s escorted to the carriage and you’re about to trail after him, but your mother stops you. You expect her to reprimand you, give an earful of what you should and shouldn’t do. But you’re surprised when she lowers herself down to your eye level. She catches you off guard when she reaches out to button up your pea coat, attentive and careful in each swift movement. “This is a really important meeting, Anastasia. Do you understand?” Her voice is soft, quiet enough that no one else aside from you can hear. You nod. “You must be on your best behaviour. Your father, me, all the workers here, and the whole House of Devereux will be relying on you.” Wow. Way to not pressure a seven year old. “Today is the day that might change our lives for the better.” As she finishes buttoning, her hands stroke your shoulders down your arms. The Duchess smiles gingerly, tiredly. For a moment, you feel guilty for being so selfish — for prioritizing your own survival and desires when everyone else was quite literally relying on you for their livelihood. You find yourself swallowing hard before nodding again. You get into the carriage without another word. Well fuck. What now? A part of you wishes you ran away when you had the opportunity — even though there was a good chance you would’ve been kidnapped and sold at an underground market or gone hungry or be shipped back right to your parents. Ashea, like any other place, doesn’t take kindly to wandering children. But at least then you would’ve had more control and choice. You know this isn’t just a fun field trip to the palace. The only reason the Duke and the King would meet like this is to seek an engagement. Your engagement with the Prince’s. Half an hour later, you peek out the carriage windows to see the castle at the horizon. Stone walls, seven towers, lookouts, the empire’s flag fluttering in the breeze — it’s a beautiful place with rolling green hills and beds of flowers that wind up the path. It’s a hundred times more grand than the Devereux estate and ten times the size too, stretching across for miles. But it’s also the location where all of it happens. The beginning. The climax. The end. “Anastasia.” Your attention is taken when your father steps off the carriage. You take the servant's hand and hop down onto the cobblestone, following your father closely. He greets an important person or two and you lower your head to them in greeting as they complement how mannerly you are. The two of you are led through open, lavish halls full of life-sized portraits and marble statues, and then through the garden. Even in both your lifetimes, you’ve never seen so many different kinds of flowers and vivid hues in one place. Pansies. Orchids. Marigold. Magenta. Lavender. Marmalade. But you don't get to admire it for long. Not when the gazebo comes into sight. A man with straight posture, dark hair streaked with gray to show his age and deep set eyes sits at the rounded table. Even with the absence of his crown, his status is shown through his navy cape ornate with golden swirls held together by an emerald jewel embellished with the royal crest. Wrinkles around his mouth, he has a fiercely stern expression until he cordially smiles as your father approaches. Beside him is a spitting image, a smaller boy slumped in the white chair, visibly bored. “Herrick! Good to see you, my old friend.” “Your Majesty.” Your father bows and you follow suit, giving a curtsy and lowering your head. But at the same time, you can’t help peeking at the boy. His eyes meet yours and you look away. Oh fuck. It’s the first meeting between the Prince and Anastasia. You’re sure for her it was impactful, nerve wracking, life changing. And it’s like that for you as well, but not so much on the positive side. “Please, the formalities. Is this the daughter you've been speaking so highly about?” “Yes, this is my only child, Anastasia.” You plaster on a perfect, little smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.” The King hums. “A very lovely child indeed. The Devereux House is blessed.” The Duke smiles. “Thank you.” “Please sit and make yourselves welcome.” The King gestures and the servants nearby scurry over, pulling out your chairs, pouring tea and placing plates of biscuits on their table. In a blink, they’ve finished and you can’t help but muse how much better they are than the servants back at home. The King smiles and looks at his son. “Jungkook, don’t you have anything to say?” “Nice to meet you,” he deadpans before his doe eyes wander out to the gardens. Jungkook is wholly disinterested in you and this entire affair — you don’t blame him. You bet any seven year old would be itching to get out of their seat. But looking at him, you can’t believe you liked him so much in the game. You even had him as your phone wallpaper for a few months. But from the perspective of Anastasia and knowing your outcome and your impending demise, he’s not even cute as a kid. If anything, sitting across from him stresses you the fuck out. You weren’t supposed to even meet him. This was the exact opposite of your battle plans. And yet the engagement is going to happen whether you like it or not. The greatest irony of all is that you know he’ll end up falling in love with the main character anyway instead of you. Aka. the orphaned girl who ends up adopted by a baron. This whole ordeal only serves to make you suffer. The only way you could sabotage this meeting now is by slamming the teapot over Prince Jungkook’s head. And that would either get you thrown in jail for treason and executed or sent back to the Devereux estate on house arrest where your mother would kill you. Oh god. It’s death either way. “Are the sweets not to your liking?” It takes a second for you to register that the King is looking at you. That he’s speaking to you. You go wide-eyed, realizing you haven’t had a bite of the cakes, the biscuits or sipped on any tea. You’ve completely tuned out their conversation. But he’s been watching you and Jungkook from the corner of his eye, assessing your interactions closely. Your palms go clammy as you open your mouth before closing it. “She’s just shy,” your dad swiftly informs with a polite smile. It’s a complete lie, but one the royal monarch believes. “Ah. We shouldn’t bore them with adult talk then.” The man turns to his son. “Jungkook, why don’t you go off and play with Anastasia here?” “Okay,” he mumbles and slides off his chair. You follow suit, a bit relieved that you were dismissed from the overly formal atmosphere. The two of you go deeper into the gardens until the gazes of your father and the King’s fade from view. Jungkook is wearing a white ensemble with a cape which he dirties with the way he’s kicking rocks in his path. He seems burdened that you’re beside him. “What do you like playing?” he asks. You’re perplexed on how to answer. You’re not sure how you should play with an actual seven year old. Then again, you like to run away from the maids and swing your sword around on your down time. But that’s just because you like their reactions. “Sword fighting.” Jungkook blanches as if he just bit into a lemon. “What kind of girl plays with swords?” Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to kick the royal prince right in his shin. But as the annoyance floods you, an epiphany comes along with it — if you can’t avoid Jungkook, maybe it’s time to switch strategies. Maybe you can start sowing the seeds of your future survival right here, right now. If one day, he’ll be condemning you of countless crimes and looking down at you as an evil villain, maybe you can turn his perception in the opposite direction. Harmless. Overbearingly nice. Arrows that practically point ‘I’M NOT A THREAT WHATSOEVER!’. You’re a genius. You force the highest pitched giggle you can. “Really?” Jungkook kicks another rock. “Girls have flimsy arms and trip every time you touch them.” Ah. The ancient version of: girls have cooties and so you should stay away from them. Alright, alright. You can work with this. “What do you like playing, Your Highness?” “Anything that’s not with girls.” You pause and laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff. Jungkook suddenly lifts his head and turns to you with the swivel of his heel. You stop as well and his index finger juts right in your face. “Since I’m the prince, I’ll have mercy on you. We can play servant and king.” “What’s servant and king?” “I’m the king.” His thumb pokes himself and then he’s back to pointing right between your eyes again. “You’re the servant. You have to follow me and all my orders or off with your head!” What a little shit. How is this going to be any fun for you?! But you draw an enormous grin on your face, left eye twitching in the process. “Sounds like fun, Your Highness!” He strolls off. “Let’s go, dumb dumb.” Your teeth grit and you inhale a deep breath. It hurts your pride to be insulted by a literal seven year old, but you can handle it. When it comes to life or death, you’ll easily befriend the hero. “Fetch that stick, peasant!” The prince points at the distance and looks at you expectedly. Your teeth grit. But you muster a smile and dash forward. When it comes to life or death, you’ll befriend the hero……….probably. “Here you go, Your Highness.” You present the stick to him with both hands and the brat smirks. A rush of air leaves his nose and then he takes the stick. You’re not sure what to expect, but your entire body freezes when he hurls it as far as his arms can go. He points between your brows a second later. “Go get it!” Motherfucker. “Yes!” Once Jungkook’s tired of having you fetch like a dog, you trail after him closely. The green hedges are triple your size, acting like corridors of the garden before they open up to certain areas filled with beds of flowers or a fountain. Some paths are unpaved, so you listen to the crunch of rocks underneath his shoes amidst the quiet. When you’re not out of breath and running at his command, it finally sinks in that it’s the first time you’re with a main character of the game. For the seven years of this lifetime thus far, there was only really you. Your parents were supporting characters at best who just took the opportunity to slyly diss the main heroine a few times at royal gatherings. But other than that, you’re currently facing the backside of someone you know a lot about. Who he will become. What his future holds. What his desires are. You pipe up, “Prince Jungkook—” “That’s Your Highness, peasant!” You clench your jaw. “Your Highness…” “What?” You quicken your steps until you’re beside him and he turns his head. “I’ll support you forever if you want to fall in love with anyone! I don’t care about being the crown princess or the queen!” For good measure, you flash a wink and a thumbs up. “What?” His boyish face is twisted up in disgust. “Why would a peasant be a queen?” You hold in your sigh. “I’m just saying. If we ever get engaged or something, it can always be annulled when we’re older. So feel free to love on, Your Highness. Make love, not war!” Your words completely fly over Jungkook’s head. His face reads that he has no clue what you’re talking about. And he turns away from you. “You’re weird.” You scoff. You’re not sure how you can become friendly with a seven year old when you’re internally twenty years older than he is. If you had chocolate on you, you’d use that as a bargaining chip. But clearly, you only have your body, brain and the surroundings at the moment…. What do seven year old boys like? What do they like? As you scan your surroundings, your eye catches something in the bushes. You stop and get closer. At the same time, Jungkook realizes you’re not following him anymore and turns around. “What are you doing, peasa—” His words are cut short by a shrill shriek of absolute terror. Your brows furrow and you thrust your hand closer to him. “It’s a ladybug.” The tiny red and black polka dotted bug is crawling in your hand. Jungkook screams again. He’s stumbling back, nearly tripping onto his butt, doe eyes reflected with complete horror as if you just chopped off his mom’s head. “Get that thing away from me!” his voice cracks up and down two different octaves and realizing his weakness, you grin. You know your plan was to seem as harmless as possible, but it’s just too much fun teasing him. “What thing, Your Highness? Your servant is merely showing you a small forest creature.” “No! Stop!” He scrambles and starts running away. You chase after him while giggling manically. “Prince Jungkook! Where are you going!” “Get the bug away from me!” He turns over his shoulder with eyeballs nearly falling out of their sockets, face bright red, and you take the opportunity to toss the ladybug at him. Jungkook’s shrieks echo, pitched and earsplitting. You’re forced to stop with how hard you’re laughing and by then, he’s ran for the hills, completely gone from sight. Oh god. You can’t believe he’s so scared. You can’t believe you were so scared — he’s just a kid. Your giggles taper off as you wander the gardens by yourself. It’s freeing to stroll at your own pace without a brat demanding you to fetch sticks or barking at you to do this and that. It’s a chance to finally admire the surroundings. You’re sure the first time Anastasia saw the castle, it became her dream home. The place is similar to the aesthetic background graphics of the game and it was always described as beautiful by all the characters. And it really is that way. But this is also the place of her demise and possibly yours. You’re sure the only time you’ll be able to enjoy the palace and be this carefree is right now. You’re admiring the blooming carnations, peony and roses as you turn the corner. The figure standing by the sprouting fountain doesn’t register until after a delayed moment and your eyes lift to see a woman — mysterious in her gray dress. It’s simple attire, but the fabrics are layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow to the breeze. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you. You realize you’re staring and you blink several times, approaching her politely. She pulls her charcoal shawl closer to her and smiles. The light wrinkles around her kind eyes crease. “Are you lost, child?” You shake your head. “No. I’m just looking.” She crouches down to match your height, gazing at you tenderly. “Where are your parents?” “My dad’s talking to the King.” You point off in the distance as curiosity eats at you. She doesn’t look like an ordinary worker but not a visitor of the castle either. “I’m Anastasia.” She searches your expression as if she’s endeared by you. “That’s a beautiful name.” “Thanks! Who’re you?” She’s soft-spoken, voice above a quiet murmur, “My name is Erena Robane.” You frown. The name rings a bell. “Lady Robane?” “No.” Her laugh tinkles. “I’m no lady.” Before you can press your mind any further and pick apart your brain at why her name sounds so familiar, she reaches into the small pouch she was carrying and hands you a wrapped piece of candy. “Would you like one?” Your eyes light up at the pink square. “Yes, please!” You know better, as an internal twenty seven year old, than to take candy from strangers, but the Duke and Duchess never give you any sweets. So you’ll happily take what you can. Erena smiles and drops the treat into your outstretched palm. Not wanting to risk getting it confiscated by Edith, Joan or your mother if you brought it home, you quickly unwrap it and throw it into your mouth. It’s peppermint and it’s pretty damn good. The woman looks at you patiently, waiting for a reaction, so you give her a thumbs up and a “Yummy!” She laughs faintly. “Do you like candy?” “Yep!” You hold out both hands as if you’re trick-or-treating. “Can I have another one, please?” Might as well seize the chance while you can. It’s a dog-eat-dog world. “You have very good manners.” She smiles, taking another out of her endless pouch and dropping it in your hand. Oh man, you’re starting to really like this lady. “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.” You chew the hard candy in your cheek, crunching down on it. You hope it rots your teeth and makes Edith’s life a living nightmare when she has to deal with it. “Your son?” Her lips part to speak. But she’s interrupted— “Mom?” By sheer coincidence and coincidence itself, a boy with floppy, brown hair turns the corner of the garden. Thin lips, but chubby cheeks and bright eyes of deep mocha. You’ve known him the second your eyes have laid on him. A younger form of the person you fear most. Taehyung. You gasp and immediately spin around, hoping he didn’t see you, pretending you didn’t see him. “I have to go now!” Before Taehyung’s mom can utter another word, you run away. You don’t notice how Taehyung slows as well, brows furrowed at your receding form. To see Jungkook is one thing. But to see Taehyung, the one who will use, coerce and lead you to your doom, is another. Jungkook handed down your judgment, but Taehyung is the one who led you there. He’s the villain. // “You did decently,” your mother informs a few days after the whole affair. “We might have to go to the palace more often from now on.” You nod, unable to dwell in her approval, mind still lost in a daze. Taehyung — a half prince born a year before Jungkook. He has the blood of a royal with his father as the King, but his mother is merely a palace maid. You remember that he seeks revenge for her death after she’s poisoned by the jealous Queen. But if she’s still alive, that means it’ll happen soon. This year. Springtime. You’re slowly recalling the details of the event, the catalyst that begins Taehyung’s descent into madness, how he became the game’s villain. But you can’t involve yourself. You just can’t. You shouldn’t have met any of them in the first place. You shouldn’t get entangled in their story, in their lives. If you want to live, if you want to survive, you have to avoid Taehyung at all costs. So you can’t. You can’t. Can’t. A day passes as you focus on your studies. You can’t. Another two days goes by, six meals eaten. Can’t— On the seventh, your silver spoon clanks noisily against the porcelain bowl, slipping from your grasps, dropping downwards in your deep trance that throbs your temples. Joan turns at the ruckus and you look at her, already standing up. “I have to go to the castle.” The guilt eating at you has won its battle. “Pardon me?” “Today. Right now.” You rush out of the room and down the hall, determination set in your strides. Maybe you can avoid this. Maybe if you do, he won’t become the game’s villain. Then he won’t be a threat to you, and you won’t be a threat to anyone. You’ll live and so will his mom who’s done nothing wrong. The maid struggles to catch up to you. “My lady! Please! Wait! What do you mean?” “I forgot something really important!” “Y-You can’t just go. My lady! You must ask permission from the Duke and Duchess!” “There’s no time to.” You’ve never been more serious and somber. There isn’t an inch of mischief, no childish selfishness. Twenty seven years has amounted to this very moment. And you use your status as the Duke’s daughter to command the girl. “Come with me. If the Duke or Duchess gets mad, I’ll take the blame.” Joan sighs, annoyed as she looks around as if someone else could reason with you. But as you turn to her, looking her dead in the eye, she shifts on her feet and hesitantly calls for a carriage. You’re in it before you can blink again. There must be time. There hasn’t been any news yet. No reports of a death in the castle. You can warn him. You can avoid this tragedy. “We’re here, my lady,” Joan informs, peering out the window at the enormous stone walls and towers looming high above the clouds. The carriage doors open and she guides you out. Your feet land onto the cobblestone. But there isn’t any welcome. No guards that ask what your business here is. No servant passing by. Instead, there’s chaos in the distance. Your head whips to the noise and Joan shouts as you dash off towards it. Yet no one notices you in the midst of the pandemonium. No one would pay mind to a small child. You’re left to linger in the open halls, butlers that quickly walk past, maids whispering amongst themselves— “Did you hear?” Your head turns towards two girls. “The King’s mistress just died!” You came a moment too late.

No one cries. The arrangement is short and unluxurious, the bare minimum of what would be acceptable for a royal family. A priestess in front drones on impassively about the afterlife, but as you look around, no one grieves. After all, they wouldn’t shed tears for a mere maid. This is merely a charade to quell away scandalous rumors and to give nobles an excuse to come to the castle and be acknowledged. You’re overwhelmed in black, a tulle skirt and puffed sleeves. Your parents stand on either side of you, your father in a jacket with the house’s emblem and your mother with a veil covering the right side of her face. Like many others, your family has come for appearance sakes. But for you, it’s different. The woman inside the closed casket has shown you a kindness that you so seldom receive. And because of your hesitation, because of your self-preservation and selfishness, this happened. Once the burial ceremony is over, your parents mingle amongst the nobles, laughing cordially behind gloved hands as you follow after them and cutesy. It feels like you’re a show pony, brought around to show what the future of the Devereux looks like. But after a while, you manage to slip away from the scrutiny. And by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you find him. At first it’s the noise of heart wrenching sobs. It’s unrestrained wails and choked hiccups in between that attracts your attention. You twist through the familiar hedge corridors and the moment you turn the corner, your eyes lift to a small figure underneath an oak tree. He sits alone. He cries to himself. The boy with floppy, brown hair has his knees pulled together. He incessantly rubs at his eyes as if that alone could stop the tears that well and pour. He cries enough for the tens of people at the funeral, substituting their apathy with his anguish. His entire body wracks and the moment he whimpers “m-mom” in-between, it’s shaking to your core. This is the beginning. The start of his path of destruction. In this entire castle that stretches across the horizon, only his mother ever loved him. The half-prince. The Forgotten Prince. The one dirtied by regular red blood, not blue enough for the golden crown. Taehyung mourns, vision blurred by his grief. But as he rubs his eyes with his small fists, black shoes appear between the gaps of his hands. He looks up. Your arm is extended in front of him. Taehyung looks down to your folded, pink handkerchief. He looks stunned for a moment, as if he’s surprised that there was someone here. That someone actually heard him. That someone came. He takes your handkerchief and sniffles. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. Sorry that she passed away, that he has to endure this, that you didn’t save her when you could’ve. This isn’t just a game you’re playing anymore. All these people aren’t just characters. You’re living a new life. And all these people have emotions, desires, thoughts of their own. You’re not sure how you can comfort Taehyung. What you can say to make it better. “Your mother loved you a lot. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be crying so much by yourself.” He hiccups, snivelling uncontrollably. “B-But if I don’t cry for her, who will?” You don’t know what to say. Tears continue to slip down his cheeks and as you linger awkwardly, you decide there isn’t much that you can say. So you sit beside him. You sit underneath the canopy of the tree and branches of rustling leaves, on the soft bed of grass, looking out at the garden. This is all you can do. You don’t notice the way Taehyung looks up in-between his mourning, glossy eyes pinpointed on the profile of your face. The pair of you sit next to one another in the silence of his sniffles until it levels. Until he can breathe again— “Anastasia!” There’s a sharp call of your name, one that can only belong to your mother. You immediately come to your feet again as if a dog whistle has been blown. But as you hurry away, you turn over your shoulder. Your eyes connect with Taehyung’s brown ones, and for a moment you slow. You leave a second later. You twist down the hedges and turn the corner, nearly bumping straight into her. She looks down at you with her brows furrowed. “Where did you go?” You smile. “I got lost.” It’s futile. You know it now. Trying to avoid the three that will lead you to your demise is like trying to wish you’d suddenly vanish off these lands. You know it won’t be the last time that you see Taehyung. It won’t be the last of Jungkook either. Or whoever the heroine will be. It seems like the more you try to run, the more you inadvertently become involved. But you’ll hold your head up high and face whatever is to come head on.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook scenario #taehyung scenario #jungkook fluff #taehyung fluff #BUT WHO'S GONNA BE THE ENDGAME GUY HMMMM?

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aalissy · 4 years ago

Text

Game Night

Day 3 is done! This does contain spoilers for Truth so if you haven’t seen that episode yet please do before reading this!! That being said I need more reveals like this hehe. Anywho, I hope you enjoy <3 <3

AO3

About to enter her first class of the day, Marinette was paused in her tracks by an arm yanking on hers. She let out a startled yelp as she was dragged away from the classroom door before she turned around and met the wide eyes of Alya. With a small scowl, Marinette rubbed on her arm after her best friend let her go. Giving a small huff, she pouted, “What was that for? For the first time ever I’m on time to class and now we’re going to be late!”

“I need to speak to you,” her friend said urgently, a look of regret entering into her hazel eyes.

Marinette nodded quickly, “Ok. Is something wrong?”

“Kind of,” Alya ran a hand through her hair frustratedly, “I know we haven’t been able to hang out as much because you’ve been busy with the bakery and homework. I mean, that’s why we set up the games night later because you, me, Adrien, and Nino are all finally free today.”

“Oh no,” she sighed quietly, “Can you guys not make it?”

Alya glanced away before meeting Marinette’s gaze once again, “Well, here’s the thing... Nino and I can’t come because I suddenly got swamped with babysitting the twins and he got grounded after we got our exams back. But, Adrien’s still free.”

“I don’t know, Alya,” Marinette murmured, her eyes glancing down at the floor as she nibbled on her lip, “It’s not going to be as much fun without you and Nino and I still have a lot of work to catch up on anyway. Don’t you think I should just cancel and reschedule for a different time?”

“No way, girl!” She spoke decisively, “You’re almost never free and you’ve been absent from all of our recent meetings! You need to have some relaxation time.”

Marinette shifted uncomfortably, “But it would be just me and Adrien. You know I’m still working on just being his friend and Luka and I broke up not that long ago.”

“Which is why you should totally do this!” Alya gave her a wide smile, reaching out to squeeze her shoulders tightly, “Prove to yourself that you really can be a great friend to him. And besides, it’s not like you and Adrien have never played video games together alone before.”

She giggled, shaking her head amusedly at her friend, “Alright, I’ll do it. But only because you’re right. I really do need to spend some time with friends. I swear I’m going to die from stress alone.”

“I don’t know how you do it girl,” Alya bumped her shoulder with hers playfully as they began to walk back to their classroom.

“Me neither,” Marinette sighed quietly to herself. Sliding into her seat, however, she turned back to Alya, “We are definitely going to need to find another time where it can be all four of us though.”

Alya nodded her head quickly, “Oh, of course! I’ve finally learned a few tricks in Ultimate Mecha Strike III that I think might let me win a few rounds against you.”

“Psh, good luck with that!” Marinette snickered quietly to herself before their teacher entered the classroom and began her lesson.

Listening to her lectures that day was a lot more difficult. Half of her thoughts were still stuck on whether or not she would be able to handle acting like she was just a friend to Adrien. The other half of her thoughts were plotting. Where she’d go if there was an akuma attack, how she was going to keep the miracle box away from Adrien’s sight, and how to keep the kwamis quiet during their playthroughs.

Marinette still scribbled down notes, of course, but every so often she would glance out the window during her lectures, certain that there would be another akuma attack to ruin her day. Her leg jostled restlessly throughout the entire day, hoping that Hawkmoth would send it before her game night with Adrien.

No akuma came, however, and Marinette was left to sigh silently to herself as she trudged out of the classroom, positive that Hawkmoth was just delaying the inevitable. The warm sunlight that beamed down upon her face when she stepped outside didn’t do much to lighten her mood. She was about to begin her walk to the bakery when a hand touched her shoulder.

With a startled yelp, Marinette whirled around, meeting the wide, green, sheepish eyes of Adrien Agreste. He gave her a crooked smile before rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry, Marinette. I couldn’t help but notice though that you looked down. Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m fine!” She panted out, a hand on her chest as she attempted to calm her racing heart rate. Feeling awkward, she tugged on her backpack straps, “W-well, I mean, I am kind of upset that Nino and Alya can’t make our games night. Did you hear?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Nino told me, and actually that’s what I came over to talk to you about.”

Marinette felt a relieved smile form on her face. He was going to cancel too, wasn’t he? Good, that meant she could spend more time preparing for Hawkmoth’s akuma. She ignored the brush of disappointment that she felt over yet another missed opportunity to spend time with friends and opened her mouth to tell him she was fine with him canceling.

He stopped her before she could, though, beaming down excitedly at her, “Do you mind if I go home first and drop my stuff off before meeting you at the bakery?”

Oh. Marinette blinked a few times. He wasn’t canceling on her. Happiness filled her as a small smile formed on her face. Hawkmoth and her duties as Ladybug could wait for one afternoon then. Alya was right, she really needed a night out with friends.

Her smile grew wider and more teasing as she nodded, “Of course not, Adrien. Take all the time you need before you come over and get absolutely destroyed.”

“Hey!” he said mock-offendedly, “I’ll have you know that I’ve gotten a lot better since the last time we played against each other. Who knows, I might even surprise you.”

Adrien gave her a playful wink and she quickly shoved down the flurry of butterflies she felt begin to swirl around her stomach. No! They were friends. Just friends.

“Good luck then,” Marinette laughed, “I’m looking forward to those new tricks you have up your sleeve.”

Adrien chuckled with her before giving her a quick wave, “See you soon then, Marinette.”

“See you soon, Adrien,” she gave a small nod, the beginnings of a dreamy smile forming on her lips before she pursed them, scolding herself internally. Turning around, she began to head towards the bakery. As she got farther and farther away from him, though, Marinette began to sink deeper into her thoughts once again. Unable to stop herself, she looked around for any signs of a familiar, black butterfly.

Funny how Chat and Adrien were the only two who could manage to take her mind off of everything. Looking behind her, Marinette managed to catch a glimpse of the black limo slowly pulling away from the school. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to calm herself down as anxiety and stress ate away at her.

I can do this, she thought to herself, I have a plan and I’m ready for anything Hawkmoth sends my way. With those last determined thoughts, Marinette turned decisively back to the bakery and continued her trek home.

Saying hello to her parents when she finally arrived, she quickly made her way to her room. Once there, she ran over to where she hid the Miracle Box, checking to make certain that it was still hidden. Breathing out a sigh of relief when it was, Marinette collapsed into her desk chair. She sent a small, lonely glance at the other three chairs that she had set up earlier this morning. Pushing herself up, she began slowly moving two of them out of the way.

“Next time,” she murmured to herself before standing up straight with a long stretch. Marinette yawned quietly as she looked outside her window anxiously. She’d know if an akuma began to attack Paris, right? I mean, there was no way she’d get too swept up in her night with Adrien that she’d miss an akuma attack.

Nibbling on her lip, her thoughts strayed even further. What if she did make it to the battle too late? What if one day she wasn’t there and Chat got hurt. Marinette’s lip wobbled as a lump settled in her throat. This was such a bad idea! What had she been thinking?! She didn’t have time to goof off. There was only Ladybug and saving Paris.

Her eyes shot over to the hidden Miracle Box before a voice shouted close to her ear, “Boo!”

Jumping into the air, Marinette yelped for the third time that day. Forgetting where she was, she reached behind her, grabbing onto something before throwing it over her shoulder with all her strength. Her blue eyes widened as she saw everything happen in slow motion. It was Adrien whom she just threw over her shoulder.

In that split second where he was falling, however, Marinette would have sworn that she saw another familiar, blonde boy flying through the air. Instinctively, she reached for the yo-yo at her side, only for her hand to wrap around nothing. Instead, she could do nothing to stop Adrien’s crash as he hit the ground. Wincing as she heard him groan quietly, Marinette quickly rushed over to him.

All of her previous fears and anxiety were completely gone as she peered down at him in worry. A stunned look was in his emerald green eyes as he looked up at her. Crouching down, she spoke panickedly as she looked for any broken bones, “Oh my god, Adrien are you alright?! Did I hurt you?!”

“No,” he wheezed out, “Besides, it was my fault for scaring you.”

Marinette leaned back as he slowly began to sit up. She examined his face and body worriedly as she gnawed on her lower lip, “A-are you sure? That was a pretty nasty fall.”

Adrien rubbed the back of his head as he chuckled lightly, “Yeah, I’m okay. I think I’m getting used to it now.”

They both froze, blinking at each other slowly. Neither spoke as they sat in a tense silence. Surely not, Marinette thought to herself as her brow furrowed. Attempting to brush off the tension that had suddenly entered the small room, she stood up. Brushing herself off, she offered a hand down to Adrien, “I-I’m still really sorry about that, Adrien. I-I didn’t mean to throw you at all, I just didn’t notice you come in.”

Instead of taking her hand, he continued to stare up at her for a few seconds, a small furrow between his eyebrows as he looked up at her. It was only when she managed to tear her eyes away from his piercing gaze, shifting uncomfortably that Adrien took her hand, using it to pull himself up.

With a small gulp, Marinette looked back towards him. He was smiling and relief filled her as she realized she hadn’t completely broken him. Giving him a small grin back, she motioned her head towards her computer, “D-do you want to play now or should I see if I can get you some painkillers.”

“No, I’m fine,” Adrien shook his head, the smile still on his lips, “I think I’m ready to get ‘destroyed by you now.’” He laughed as he copied her words from earlier.

Marinette’s face flushed as she quickly turned to the computer. Logging into the game, she handed him the controller silently. He took it from her with another small, grateful smile.

As they began to play a round together, she lost herself in the motion of the game. Her fingers moved automatically over the controller as she tried to brush the wave of familiarity screaming at her away. Like she had predicted before, she won easily. Too easily. Adrien’s movements were jerky and disjointed and Marinette shot him a suspicious glare.

“Where were those fancy moves you promised me earlier?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “Those were worse than usual, Adrien.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think I’m still a little dizzy after that fall.”

Immediately, her face fell. Standing up, Marinette put her controller down, “I knew you needed painkillers. I’m so sorry for making you play with me, Adrien. Maybe you should go home and rest.”

“No!” he practically shouted, grabbing onto her wrist as she turned to scramble her way downstairs. Her mouth fell open in shock, staring at him in bewildered confusion after his latest outburst. Adrien blushed and then spoke in a softer tone, “I-I mean, no. I’m fine, I promise.”

Marinette huffed with a small amount of frustration, “Adrien, you just told me you got dizzy playing a game. You’re not okay! I’ll be right bac-”

“Where did you learn how to do that?” He cut her off, staring at her intensely.

Her jaw dropped open once again, eyes moving from his down to the hand still holding her wrist before she looked away from him completely. I’m a superhero and I go gallivanting around saving the city, Marinette thought to herself as her lips twitched slightly.

Bringing her gaze back to his, she cleared her throat, “W-well, um, I-I take, uh self-defense! Yeah, self-defense!”

“Really?” Adrien asked as a knowing grin began to spread across his face.

Once again, Marinette felt a wave of familiarity before she shook herself from those thoughts. Nodding her head quickly, she gave a wide, awkward smile, “Really. S-so, c-can I go get you some painkillers now.”

“No,” he spoke simply, squeezing her wrist before he stood up, looking down at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “I feel completely fine now.”

“But you just said...” She trailed off, frowning with confusion.

“Seriously, Marinette, don’t worry. I told you I’m used to it by now,” Adrien shrugged, a soft smile on his lips.

She giggled uncomfortably, glancing away from him and his sparkling eyes. It felt like something was on the tip of her tongue. Something important that she should know but just couldn’t connect. Shifting uncomfortably, Marinette murmured, “You make it sound like you get thrown around by girls often.”

“Hmm,” Adrien hummed, tilting his head as he considered her words, “Maybe not often. But it is weird that it’s happened twice now.”

Marinette snapped her gaze back to his, her eyes narrowing as a spark of something flared up within her, “Then maybe you should stop sneaking up and scaring people.”

She blinked a few times, her hand coming to press against her lips. Why had she just said that? Opening her mouth to apologize for essentially blaming him after she was the one who flipped him, Marinette was cut off by Adrien wrapping her up in a giant hug.

“It is you,” he whispered softly in her ear.

For a brief moment, she tensed up before everything clicked. Oh. Everything made sense now. Of course, her kitty was Adrien. Marinette reached up to hug him back just as tightly before she buried her head in his shoulder.

“Chaton,” she murmured softly, nuzzling into him as she felt his warmth seep into her. Every last worry that she had melted away as she realized she had someone else she could confide in now.

“M’lady,” Adrien spoke quietly back, causing her to sniffle happily.

Eventually, they both pulled back, staring back at each other with wide, adoring smiles fixed on their faces. Just as Adrien opened his mouth to speak, a crash sounded outside on the streets. Both of their gazes snapped to the window before they looked back at each other. A silent understanding filled them both as they nodded at each other.

“Later,” Marinette spoke first, before calling on her transformation. Adrien did the same and she felt relief fill her as she felt less alone for the first time in so long. She could do this. With him by her side, she could do anything.

#adrienetteapril2021 #adrinetteapril2021 #adrienette #adrinette #identity reveal #yeet reveal #lolololol #give me more reveals where Marinette throws Adrien as hard as she can xD #I neeeed ittttt #fic #fanfic #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #truth spoilers #ml spoilers #miraculous spoilers #Marinette is an anxious bean who needs SUPPORT #Help her plzzz

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belit0 · 4 years ago

Text

Burned Love

Anonymous:

That fic with Itachi taking care of his s/o was so cute! X3 Can you do a short fic like that but with Izuna? Thank you!

Rating: G

Pairing: [Uchiha Izuna / Reader]

Tw: none!

Additional Characters: [Uchiha Shisui] [Uchiha Madara]

For the past two weeks, Izuna has been caught between clan issues and Madara’s temper. Due to his responsibilities, the time spent on his relationship with you has been strictly cut, bordering on nullity. Being a dedicated and loving boyfriend, the Uchiha is overflowing with guilt about the situation, and at the first opportunity to free himself, he intends to compensate you in the best way he can think of.

Cooking for you.

But you do remember that Izuna can’t actually cook, right? …

Good luck!

“What should we put first? Rice or water?”

“Why are you asking me? I called you to help me, not to make it more difficult Shisui.”

“I told you I had no idea what to do in a kitchen and you insisted…

"Yeah well, nobody else was available, so shut up and… I don’t know, Do something?”

“How long do we have until [Y/N] arrives?”

“Let me see… about half an hour, yep."

"WHAT?! HOW DUMB ARE YOU TO THINK WE CAN PULL THIS OFF IZUNA?!”

“What’s the problem? Our kitchen guy has our food ready in less time…”

“And why don’t we call him? You’re a fool if you think anything good is going to come of the two of us doing this.”

“Because that wouldn’t be romantic Shisui, use your brain. Tiger mind, tiger mind.”

“I’m only going along with this because you’re my favorite cousin, you know… whatever, let’s do it.”

“Yeah bro, let me turn on the… what’s it called… the thing that throws fire? And it’s for warmth? I can swear we have one…”

“An oven, Izuna. A fucking oven.”

“Are you reading my mind? So… how do you turn it on?”

“Well, I guess with fire in -”

“ Say no more, little cousin, we are Uchihas, remember?”

With all the unfounded confidence in the world, Izuna felt ready. Directing his body to the kitchen artifact, he made the hand seals of the most powerful Katon in the clan, and without any hesitation, fired his expert Jutsu into the oven. Within a minisecond, the entire wall of the kitchen was on fire, and the two Uchihas understood the future that lay ahead if they did not solve the problem.

“ARE YOU INSANE?! HOW CAN YOU THINK OF USING THAT TECHNIQUE INSIDE THE HOUSE, YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!”

“I THOUGHT IT WOULD SPEED UP THE PROCESS, OKAY? MY BAD! WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES! IT CAN HAPPEN TO ALL OF US! DON’T YOU KNOW SOME KIND OF SUITON TO TURN IT OFF?”

“OF COURSE NOT! WHAT ABOUT YOU?! DIDN’T YOU LEARN ANYTHING FROM THAT TOBIRAMA RIVALRY?!”

“WATCH YOUR MOUTH YOU FUCKING IDIOT, I WOULD NEVER STOOP SO LOW AS TO LEARN THE SAME STYLE AS MY ENEMY. WAIT HERE.”

“IZUNA! WHAT THE FUCK! GET BACK HERE BEFORE THE HOUSE FALLS DOWN!”

In the midst of the fire, ashes and heat, Izuna walked as if nothing was happening until he was outside the house, analyzing the street. Quickly, he scanned the surroundings of the Uchiha territory, until he found a group of children playing with enthusiasm at some distance from the obvious chaos. At a steady pace, he walked up to them, and spoke in the sweetest, most childlike tone, perfectly trained for the youngest members of his family.

“What’s up, boys!”

“Izuna-Sama!” they all shouted in unison with great smiles.

“I have a very important question to ask you. Do you think you can answer it for me?”

Different answers were cheered in the air, all positive and excited. The group of young people was always happy to receive Izuna’s attention.

“That’s the way I like it! Now, listen carefully. Madara-Sama gave me a very veeery difficult mission that I could not complete… So I need help from some brave Shinobi to take my place! Tell me, have any of you already learned Suiton’s techniques at the academy?”

Two young kids, almost teenagers, shouted with courage and pride a strong “yes”.

“Very good! Follow me, gentlemen, it’s time to perform your first official mission.”

In more of a hurry to get back to the source of the flames, Izuna pressed on, followed by the children who would save his home. From the short distance, a column of smoke could be seen rising into the sky, and several curious heads were walking by and slowing more than necessary to take a look.

When they reached the door, the Uchiha showed the way to the boys inside. Addressing the small crowd he exclaimed.

“ There is nothing to see. It is a small mission drill, Madara-Sama’s orders. Please disperse, thank you very much. Have a good day!”

His friendly smile disappeared along with all the spectators, and a great concern attacked the features of the irresponsible Izuna. If Madara found out that he was spreading false orders in his name, or that he had set the house on fire, things would end up badly for him.

Without dissimulation, he ran to the kitchen, where Shisui, useless and perplexed by the new company of the infants, looked at them without understanding their presence. In his hand he held a long blanket that was completely burned, while his entire face and clothes were covered in black ash.

"This is the mission, boys. Show your water techniques and kill the fire!”

“Yes ¡Izuna-Sama!”

In order to please and make their superior proud, both children shot large amounts of water from their mouths into the burning wall. Their seals were quick and accurate, and both adult Uchihas were impressed with the future generation of Shinobis their clan had produced.

After the fire was extinguished, smoke took its place, and covered the entire house. The smell of burning was unmistakable and undeniable. The colour black scattered throughout the room was evidence of the facts.

“Good job, kids! Don’t tell Madara-Sama, the report must come only from me for being a bad Shinobi and not being able to complete his mission…”

“Don’t worry, Izuna-Sama, we’ll keep your secret!”

The two children ran out of the house with happiness and joy, feeling fulfilled as Ninjas for being able to help someone important in the clan.

“You set the house on fire, lied to two innocent babies, and involved me in all this, do you really expect Madara not to find out?”

“Shut up you idiot, I don’t plan to be here when my big brother arrives. Clean this up, will you?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Look at me, L.O.O.K.A.T.M.E., I’m covered in ashes, dust and dirt, I smell bad, and removing traces of this is impossible without the help of another ninja. With all my love for you Izuna, I gotta say: fuck you. See you later”.

With anger and speed, Shisui left the ruined kitchen. After a few seconds, a slamming sound was heard at the front door. A knot formed in Izuna’s throat as he knew he would leave that monstrous scene in the hands of the first Uchiha to set foot in the house.

After taking a shower to eliminate the fact of his person, he heard the second victim arrive. He came down the stairs ready to leave as quickly as possible, and spoke without leaving room for answers when he came across another of his small cousins.

“Little Sasuke! Look I’m really in a hurry and I really have to go. In the kitchen there is a really huge mess that I couldn’t take care of and I really don’t know where it came from. You would really do me a huge favour if you could clean it up, ok? I really love you, bye.”

Passing by a stunned Sasuke who was coming home from training, he managed to slip out of the household without problems. By the time the Uchiha who was left in charge of his mess shouted in anger at finding out the truth, Izuna was too far away from the district to hear him.

With no stops or delays, he headed straight for your house, where he knew you would be preparing to meet him. When he reached the property, he knocked twice on the door with his special knock, the one that characterizes his presence in your home, and he was a little bit reassured to be received by you. Dressed in your house clothes, but with a towel holding your wet hair, a sign that you had just come out of the shower.

“Zuna? I thought it was at your house today… I must really be overdoing it to get confused like this”.

“Yeah, it WAS, at my house [Y/N], but… you know… Uchihas and their intensity… surprises… whatever. Can we stay here?”

Nodding your head as a mocking smile assaulted your face, you allowed him into your home. One of the most entertaining things about the Uchiha family was indeed the intensity of it, and the consequences it ended up creating.

Izuna sat down on the armchair, and when he was comfortable, you placed yourself on his lap in a familiar way.

“What happened this time?”

“I may have set something on fire… and I may have used children to fix it…”

“How long do you think we have until your brother shows up here claiming your head?”

“A full dinner. He was with Hashirama.”

Both laughing, and joining their lips in a soft kiss full of love. You stroked his neck, the back of his head, and ran your fingers through the hair of his ponytail. You noticed that it was poorly tied and somewhat uncombed, and it didn’t take you long to realize that it was thanks to the haste with which Izuna escaped the scene of his crime.

“Come here, you couldn’t even brush your hair Zuna.”

“Well, you know [Y/N], when most of your kitchen is destroyed and your house is full of smoke, there’s not much time to tie your hair.”

Getting off his lap, you sat on his back, where you proceeded to style it calmly. Taking your time and enjoying the beautiful silky feel of his hair in your hands, you tied his ponytail as it would normally look.

“You in the kitchen? And not to steal food before dinner time? What were you trying to do?”

“I… don’t want to explain.”

“Izuna… come on, it’s me. What could be so terrible?”

“I’m ashamed, I don’t want to, okay? Leave me alone.”

A slight shade of red attacked his cheeks, while his arms crossed over his chest just like his brother would, and his gaze went down to the ground.

“Pleaaaaaase?”

“[Y/N]…”

“Please Zuna…”

“Agh, well. I was… I… IwastryingtocoocksomethingforyoubecauseI'vebeenashittyboyfriendlately.”

“I can’t understand when you talk so fast…”

“ You’ re mean.”

“But you love me.”

“Yes, I do. I was trying to cook something for you because I’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately.”

“…Uchiha Izuna… you make me the happiest person in the world every day. Just because you have a job that can’t wait doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Come here.”

So, the Uchiha turned to face you, and you joined in a kissing session that lasted a few long minutes. Between caresses and affection, you realized that your ideal place was next to the man who accidentally set his house on fire for you, trying to outdo himself to impress you.

“If you were trying to prepare dinner for me, we should eat to honour your great attempt.”

“Sounds awfully good.”

You both got up and headed to the kitchen. You didn’t let Izuna do much, just as you didn’t let him go near the fire or flammable things. Cutting vegetables and controlling the boiling of some ingredients, the Uchiha felt useful next to you. When your dishes were ready, both of you sat down at your table and devoured what you had prepared together.

After a long hour of chatting, while you were serving dessert for the two of you, a knock on the door brought you out of your bubble of happiness. Three frighteningly loud knocks, which caused the walls to rumble, slammed into your home.

“IZUNAAAAAA! GET OUT OF THERE THIS INSTANT AND COME HERE NOW.”

Madara’s voice was full of anger, rage and violence. Even if your boyfriend’s older brother respected and liked you as his sister-in-law, you were aware that if you did not open the door for him immediately, the man would knock it down, without mercy or care. Reluctantly, you got up without looking at Izuna, and went to your main entrance.

The elder Uchiha must have felt your footsteps approaching, for no more banging was heard. Before opening, you could feel your partner hiding in one of the rooms of your house, hoping that any corner would save him from his brother’s fury.

As you opened, Madara looked at you with a bright Sharingan and an intimidating height. His hair was bristly, and his muscles contracted under the tension.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“Good night, Madara. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This is not against you [Y/N], just tell me where he is and -”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Madara, now if you’ll excuse me, my ice cream is melting.”

You were closing the door in his face when a giant hand came in your way and opened it wide. Gently pushing you aside, the Uchiha entered and went inside your house as if it were his own. It did not take him long to find his younger brother and drag him out of hiding by the neck using his arm, without applying more force than necessary.

“Aghgggg [Y/N]! I-M SS-SORRY-Y”

“Shut up and walk, Cassanova, you’ll have a chance to make up the lost time with your partner. After you repair the fucking kitchen.”

Thus, Izuna and Madara disappeared in the night, one brother dragging the other by the neck to the Uchiha district. With a sigh, you closed the door.

“Well… more ice cream for me.”

#uchiha izuna #uchiha mada #uchiha shisui #uchiha clan #izuna x reader #madara x reader #izuna #madara #shisui #x reader #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines #uchiha imagine #izuna scenario #uchiha brothers

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another-fanfic-haven · 3 years ago

Text

... and a crash (final part of "This is a STUPID idea, but---)

(words: 1048)

The helmet arrived after a lengthy delay. It's Saturday! This means you have just a few hours to prepare it for your friend. No time for questions, you rushed to him chilling in the living room. You kneeled next to him holding a helmet beside his head and marked where the horns should go.

- Okay, thanks! - you rushed to the garage as quickly as you showed up. Tabi just looked at you highly confused.

You put on the safety goggles, grabbed the drill, and tried to make two holes in the helmet. This task was difficult, though, but you were able to make two - somewhat large holes. Tabi walked into your workstation and leaned on the wall.

- Oh! Hi! I wanted to go to you, but after you are heeere... - you handed him the modified helmet. - Try this.

Tabi inspected the thing from each perspective before carefully putting it on his head. It fits his head smoothly.

- Perfect! You're free now. - you turned on your heel to make the last checkup on your bike. Tabi's walking around the garage, inspecting everything you have there. Tools, spare parts, laying freely on the floor, two wheels hanging on the wall, motorcycle bags gathering the dust in the corner... - You have a lot of shit here. - Yeah, I know. Got no time to organize it. - you said checking the brakes. - Ay, should be good. - you wiped your hands on your shirt. Tabi took another look at the clutter and shifted his attention to you. - You should rest today. - Maybe. I just need to check the fluids

You heard him sigh shaking his head. - I'll be upstairs if you need anything. - he announced looking at your busy posture circling the vehicle, unscrewing some caps, and giving your bike a gentle shake.

This night was absolutely restless, anxiety has begun to flood your brain, not letting you sleep. There was nothing to be afraid of, just a friendly race to establish who's ego is bigger. Nothing crazy, right?

You need a weapon. At least that's what your brain is telling you to do. But why..? Your brain doesn't let you rest until you get it.

The gun is in the work, hanging safely in your locker. You'll get it tomorrow morning, but you can't wait. You grab your jacket, keys, helmet, and you go to your work as fast as possible. Mid-shift, no one should be in the locker room. Task - easy, take the weapon out of the holster belt and go back.

Morning rolls by, then evening... It's almost time.

- Stressed? - Kinda. - you said, putting on your old jacket, black with purple stripes and luminous wings. - You... Still, have this jacket? - Tabi asked, looking at the slight glow of the wings. - Yep. I never throw away my gifts. - you whispered, brushing your hands against the leather of this jacket. - And this has the most meaning to me...

You both arrived at the track at in same time as the man you were racing. He came with the company. Not good...

- Hey! You finally arrived! - the man shook your hand. - And who's your friend?

Tabi cringed looking away. This man's gaze - piercing. He knows who he is, he's playing on your emotions... - It's my friend. He wanted to witness how I crush such a jerk like you. - you pointed at the man laughing. - Huh. Cocky. - He smirked and brushed his hair back. - Let's see who's faster "jerk" then. 3 laps. No more and no less.

You sent Tabi off the track and lined up at the starting line. Ready... Set... GO! You were behind him, until the first curve. You slid perfectly on the inner part, while the man drifted next to you. He's a fierce fighter, trying to overtake you on the straight parts. Tabi's biting his nails seeing you so close to the car or almost laying on the track. 2nd lap was no different, you gained the distance advantage and it was a win for you. 3rd lap, almost at the finish line... And you won! Wait! There's a puddle on your way! You slowed down as much as you could, but it was inevitable.

In a split second, from trying to slow down - to laying stunned on the ground. The bike slid and hit the barrier. Everything is so... smudgy. You tried to get up, check your bike.

- Don't! Lay! Down! - Tabi screamed holding you by the shoulders.0 - My bike. I-- I need to check it! - your resist met with his stronger grip. - Tabi! I'm fine. - you put your hand on his arm, looking straight into his empty eye sockets.

- Well, well, well. Isn't this salty terrorist who tried to kill the Boss's daughter. - you can hear someone's clapping. - Boss thought this curse was enough! - Tabi stood up, throwing his helmet to the ground. - You... - he's staring this guy down, ready to attack. - Daddy D will be really glad when I bring you-- - Tabi run to this man and punched him in the face. He spits and brushed the blood off his face. - Brave. Too brave for a dead man. - DIE! JUST FUCKING DIE! - Tabi pulled the knife out of the pocket and jumped on the man. The man is dodging every strike, making counterattacks. He finally was able to kick the knife out of Tabi's hand and knock him to the ground. You swiftly got up, trying to rescue your friend when-- AGH! You felt a strong grip on your throat.

The man stepped on Tabi's chest. - Give up. - Tabi lifted his foot and knocked him down. - NEVER! YOU- YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! - Tabi's whole aura changed, vengeful, sour, maddened like never before... - Give up or I'll break your friend's neck! - Screamed another douche, holding firmly your head. You tried to free yourself, without the result. - Don't you dare. - he's staring at the man holding you. - You have a choice, Tabi. Give up or lose another one!

#friday night funkin fanfic #friday night funkin fandom #friday night funkin vs ex #friday night funkin fanfiction #friday night funkin tabi #friday night funkin x reader #fnf ex bf #fnf x reader #fnf tabi x reader #fnf tabi #fnf fanfiction #fnf fanfic

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze (24/25)

Warnings: Jaskier has a small panic attack in this chapter, but Geralt helps him through it. The whole thing is barely a paragraph.

_______

Saturday.

Finally!

The first day of the summer holidays! Jaskier had barely been able to resist throwing his arms around Geralt the day before when the fireman had come to collect Ciri after school but they’d both agreed that they should at least try to wait until the weekend. So he’d forcibly stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled on his feet. He couldn’t help the dazzling smile he flashed at Geralt but at least he managed to keep his hands to himself.

But that was now a thing of the past.

He sat up in bed with more energy than he’d had in the mornings in years. He pushed his glasses up his nose and ran a hand through his hair as he searched for his phone within the pile of sheets. He found the bastard under one of his pillows and immediately rang Geralt without looking at the time.

It rang a few times before Geralt picked up.

“The fuck?” Geralt grumbled into the phone.

Jaskier frowned and pulled the phone away from his ear so he could look at the time. “Oh shit!” He cackled and then put the phone on speaker. “Sorry, darling. I’m still on school time.”

“Jaskier, you’re never on school time, even during term time,” Geralt muttered.

“Oh shush. I just wanted to say that I love you!” He trilled happily.

Geralt grunted.

“Oh ho ho! Aren’t you a grumpy arse this morning?” Jaskier giggled and rolled onto his back, planting his legs up against the wall.

“Fuck off.”

“No! Because it is the school holidays and I, Jaskier Pankratz, love you, Geralt Rivia.” He sighed wistfully.

“Hmm.”

“Geralt!” He whined.

He knew the fireman was tired but he could at least say it back once. The fucker.

“Love you too, now can I get back to sleep?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear heart, but call me when you’re awake, alright?”

“Fine.”

The line went dead.

The bastard.

He considered going back to sleep himself but he had too much energy. He jumped out of bed, tripping over his shoes that were on the floor right by his bed, and went flailing across the room.

“Oh cock!” He cursed as he landed, rather painfully, against the door. He would probably have a lovely bruise on the hip that crashed against the wall, but it was better than landing on his wrists and breaking them.

He sort of needed those to play his instruments.

He supposed he could always just sing.

Nah. That was shit.

Plus Priscilla would kill him if he couldn’t finish up the new album. He still had at least one lute track to put down, and even though she could play the lute, he was more skilled and she preferred to focus on the singing. She’d complained enough about his insistence on using the lute over the guitar on this album but he’d refused to back down. He had a vision!

So fuck the guitar.

He sighed and straightened his glasses, frowning as he noticed the smudges on the lenses. How the fuck were they already dirty? He’d only cleaned them last night before bed.

Fuck it.

Pancakes!

Ooh he could make the chocolate chip kind and send photos to Geralt. They had an unspoken rule that one did not make chocolate chip pancakes without photographic evidence unless they were both there to enjoy it. He frowned as he reached the edge of his living/kitchen area, and stuck his tongue between his lips. Maybe he should wait until he could make pancakes with Geralt and Ciri? He didn’t want to make them too often. They wouldn’t be special if he made them too often.

He scoffed. “Yeah, well. I’m hungry.” He muttered. He gazed longingly at the flour and sugar on the top shelf of his cupboards and then grabbed a box of chocolate cereal instead.

Yes he still ate chocolate cereal. The boring old flakey stuff was shit and he actually had taste buds. He preferred his food to not taste like cardboard.

Gods, how was he an adult?

He sighed and scrolled through the social media on his phone. Triss had put up a few pictures from the pub the night before. He’d reluctantly declined the invitation as the wolves were going along, even though Geralt had stayed behind to look after Ciri. There were quite a few of Triss and Eskel pulling funny faces at the camera, and one adorable photo of Triss kissing his cheek. Eskel looked incredibly happy. They were cute together. Jaskier hit the heart button and typed out a string of heart-eyes emojis in the comments.

Even Yennefer had put up a rare personal post. She normally kept her social media for her art stuff but there was a stunning photograph of her outside the pub. She was wearing a long white chiffon dress matched with a leather jacket and heavy leather boots, not exactly summery but it was Yennefer. She was gazing off to the side, her face lit by dull glow of the street lamps, one fiery violet eye almost glowing in the darkness.

Jaskier pouted. How was she so fucking photogenic all the time? Seriously how was Geralt now dating him after that?

“Urgh,” he groaned and hit the heart button.

JaskierTheBard: Stop making us all look bad, Yennefer! Stunning photograph darling x

He reread the reply twice and hit send. It was kinder than he usual response to Yennefer but honestly he had to admit she was a little bit sexy in that one, which just wasn’t fair.

Renfri had posted a group photo of the whole gang and he whined. It looked like a fun night. Stupid Philippa and her rules. It wasn’t fair that he had to miss out, but thankfully those days were officially over!

He lost track of time as he scrolled on his phone. He swore as he suddenly remembered his cereal. He groaned as he peered into his bowl. The milk was chocolatey and the cereal had all but disintegrated. He fucking hated soggy cereal.

“Cock,” he muttered and threw the whole lot in the bin.

He was about to put some toast on when his door bell rang. He yelped and jumped at the sound. He looked down at himself. He was still just wearing his boxers. Fuck. He ran to his bedroom and grabbed his dressing gown. It was too hot really to wear it in the summer but he wouldn’t have time to get dressed.

As it turned out, he needn’t have bothered. Geralt was at the door holding a bunch of roses with a sheepish smile on his face.

Jaskier grinned. “Geralt!” He flung his arms around his boyfriends neck and then swore as he realised he was probably crushing the flowers. “Umm, let me just go get some water. Wait. These are for me? They are beautiful. Geralt!” He whined and covered his face in his hands.

Geralt, the fucker, just laughed at him. “They’re for you. I thought… well, Ciri said I couldn’t go on a date without flowers. She was really stubborn about it.”

Jaskier snorted and carefully took the flowers from Geralt. They weren’t too badly crushed, thank Melitele for that. “I wonder where she gets that from,” he teased.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Calanthe, her grandmother. Even Pavetta had a stubborn streak. Trust me, this one has nothing to do with me.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit! I’m sorry. I forgot. I didn’t mean… hmmph!”

Geralt had kissed him.

Not that he was complaining. He smiled into the kissed and then pulled back to gaze into Geralt’s beautiful amber eyes.

“You don’t get to do that every time you want me to shut up, dearest,” he chided gently.

Geralt smirked and just kissed him again.

Ok so perhaps he could.

Gods he was so smitten.

“I love you,” he breathed against Geralt’s lips when they finally pulled apart.

Geralt brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “I love you too, even if you do have morning breath.”

Jaskier gasped and shoved against Geralt’s chest. “Rude!” He pouted.

“You love me,” Geralt reminded him. “How are you not dressed yet? You’ve been awake for hours.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Internet.”

“Come on, get dressed. I want to take you out.” Geralt instructed with a tilt of his head.

Jaskier laughed. “Take me out how? Kill me or date me? Honestly I’m down for both.”

“Jaskier!” Geralt growled and rolled his eyes.

“Kill me, right. Got it,” he winked at his boyfriend. “Now are you absolutely sure you want me to get dressed? Because I have the perfect outfit to wear but once I’m in those jeans I am not taking them off again,” he stroked Geralt’s cheek with one finger and then bopped him on the nose.

“Hmm. Brush your teeth and I’ll get water for the flowers.” Geralt took the roses back off him. “Do you have a vase?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Of course I have a vase. I’m gay!”

“That’s not an excuse for everything, Jaskier, and I’m pretty sure you’re bi,” Geralt rolled his eyes.

Jaskier laughed. “That’s just homophobic.”

“That’s not—” Geralt cut himself off and pinched his nose. “Bathroom. Now. I’ll find the vase.”

Jaskier giggled happily and went to brush his teeth.

Oh sweetest Melitele! He loved the summer holidays!

__________________

After a few false starts they finally made it out of Jaskier’s flat. He was slightly regretting his choice in black skinny jeans but really they made his legs and arse look great. It was was his first proper date with Geralt and he wanted to look good. They both managed a quick shower and Jaskier braided Geralt’s hair to elevate his usual half up do. Geralt even let Jaskier slip a couple of buttercup clips into the braids.

Geralt was wearing the outfit he’d turned up it which Jaskier hadn’t managed to appreciate before but he could now as he gazed happily at his partner across the table. Geralt had also gone for black skinny jeans, thank you Freya, and a slick black short-sleeved shirt. Honestly Jaskier didn’t know how the man wasn’t boiling in the heat of the summer in all that black but he wasn’t going to complain. It was the first time he’d seen Geralt in a shirt and he was loving it.

In comparison Jaskier had decided on a bright turquoise shirt. He’d left the bottom few buttons undone and tied the ends in a knot to turn the shirt into a crop top. The intensity of Geralt’s gaze on him when he’d finally been allowed to see the whole look had almost cause yet another delay to their date but Jaskier had just winked and pulled his slightly dazed partner out of the flat, switching his glasses for his prescription sunglasses.

He had been far too hungry to delay any further and he wanted to go on a cute date with his boyfriend!

Geralt suggested an adorable little sandwich parlour. It didn’t look like much from the outside but inside it was cosy and quiet, a perfect lunchtime date spot.

Or it would have if they hadn’t been interrupt by Lambert and Renfri… again.

Seriously, every time they ended up in a coffee shop those two were there. They both had wet hair and flushed red faces. Jaskier assumed the pair of them had been at the gym. Geralt had mentioned they liked to spar together on the wolf pack’s days off, that and the work out clothes sort of gave them away.

“Well, well, well,” Lambert laughed as they approached and crossed his arms. “So much for Triss and Eskel’s theory of you moving on, Dandelion.”

Jaskier gaped at the redhead. “Wait what? Have you been talking about us?!” He pointed a finger at the pair of them.

Renfri rolled her eyes. “Do you honestly think they have anything better to do? I’ve had to keep my mouth shut for months whilst these idiots try and think of a plan to set you two up. Triss was heartbroken when you told her you’d moved on. She was really rooting for you guys.”

“Wait, you knew?” Lambert growled at Renfri, she just shoved him in the face.

“Of course I knew. It was fucking obviously. You just had to look at Geralt’s face whenever Jaskier was mentioned. He lit up like a petrol can.”

“Renfri,” Geralt sighed. “I wasn’t that bad.”

Renfri snorted and Jaskier cackled. Oh ho! He was going to have so much fun with this. He held Geralt’s hand over the top of the table and smiled at his lover. “Oh darling, I didn’t know you cared so much,” he simpered with a flutter of his eyelashes.

“I’m pretty sure I showed you how much I care this morning, more than once.”

Jaskier blushed and pulled his hand away. “Touché, dear heart, touché,” he licked his lips as he remembered the morning’s activities. “Please, feel free to remind me any time.”

“Nope!” Lambert yelled and covered his ears. “No. You are not going to be that couple. Urgh.”

“Months I’ve had to put up with this!” Renfri complained. “Come on, wolf. Let’s leave the love birds in peace. They’ll put me off my lunch otherwise.”

“So gross,” Lambert agreed.

Jaskier laughed as the pair of them scarpered from the shop, and he rested his head on his chin as he ate his chips. They were like the kind you get in fish and chip shops and covered in blessed salty goodness. Geralt, the monster that he was, covered his with vinegar so Jaskier wouldn’t steal his chips as well.

“So what’s their deal?” Jaskier asked though mouthfuls of delicious fried potato.

Geralt tilted his head, he also now had a mouthful of cheesesteak sandwich.

“They said they weren’t dating?” Jaskier tried to explain.

Geralt huffed and Jaskier waited for him to finish eating. “Renfri doesn’t date. She has no interest in it.”

Jaskier nodded. “Asexual?”

Geralt shook his head. “Don’t think so. Just the dating thing,” he scowled as he tried to formulate his thoughts. “I think she called it aromantic, but even then her and Lambert are practically siblings. They’d probably both stab you for suggesting anything else.”

“Right. Noted. Rather not be stabbed. I made it all the way through the school year. It would be a fucking shame if I got stabbed now,” he flicked his fringe from his eyes. “Especially when you look so bloody sexy in that shirt.”

Geralt scoffed. “Says the man wearing a crop top.”

Jaskier grinned and leant forward so his lips were almost touching Geralt’s. “It would look better on your bedroom floor, darling.”

Geralt’s eyes went dark and Jaskier kissed the tip of his nose. “But not yet. I’m starving and these chips are brilliant! I cannot believe you would ruin them with vinegar.”

Geralt groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re a fucking tease, Jaskier.”

Jaskier just laughed and brushed his foot up against Geralt’s leg under the table. “You love it,” he agreed with a wink.

“Hmm.”

“You doooo,” Jaskier insisted. “And you love me!”

“I admit nothing.”

“I’ll make it up to you later?” He flashed his most flirtatious grin at Geralt, rubbing his foot further up Geralt’s leg.

“Jask,” Geralt half moaned and Jaskier laughed at the pretty blush on Geralt’s cheek.

“Yes, dearest Geralt?” He sang, feigning innocence.

“I hate you.” His boyfriend groaned and hid his face behind his hands.

“I know, love. I know.”

____________________

Jaskier was busy pulling on one of Geralt’s hoodies that he’d pinched earlier on in their relationship, when Geralt sighed loudly. Jaskier bounced back over to the bed and straddled his boyfriend’s hips.

“What’s up, dear heart?” He said with a tilt of his head.

Geralt’s long hair was now loose. Jaskier had taken great delight in undoing his own work and letting the silver strands fall loosely by Geralt’s face. His hair was naturally wavy after a shower anyway but it had been accentuated where the braids had been, and by the gods, Geralt had looked so beautiful. He still did. Only now he had his grumpy face back on. Jaskier gently stroked his thumb along Geralt’s cheek, brushing a loose strand away from his eyes.

“We need to tell Ciri,” Geralt groaned.

“Already? I thought we were going to tell her we’re friends first.”

“Won’t work.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow and huffed. “And why not?”

“She’s too clever, and I love you,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier felt his smile soften at Geralt’s words and he shifted so he could lie back down on Geralt’s chest, nuzzling into the crook of Geralt’s neck. “And I love you, my dearest of hearts.”

“Hmm.” He felt Geralt kiss the top of his hair and he sighed happily.

“So we tell her when?”

“Come home with me?” Geralt suggested. “She knows I was on a date.”

“It has been a long date,” Jaskier hummed thoughtfully, and it really had. Geralt had arrived mid-morning at it was now late afternoon bordering on early evening. “Won’t she be worried about you?”

Geralt chuckled and Jaskier felt his heart race faster in his chest. Geralt’s laugh was so warm, rough and woefully underused. It always made Jaskier’s day when he could make Geralt laugh so freely. “Yennefer took her to the zoo. She thought we might need the extra time.”

Jaskier giggled. “I cannot imagine Yennefer Vengerberg at the zoo!” He laughed harder as he pressed his face against Geralt’s bare shoulder.

“Why?”

“Oh I don’t know,” he grinned, placing a kiss on Geralt’s shoulder. “She seems too classy for the zoo.”

Geralt threaded his fingers through Jaskier��s hair and he hummed in contentment. He’d always enjoyed it when his partners played with his hair. The gentle tug at his scalp just turned him to goo. If he was a cat he was sure he’d be purring. As it was he couldn’t stop the happy hum in his chest.

“No one is too classy for the zoo,” Geralt said with such sincerity that Jaskier let out a peal of laughter and rolled onto the mattress next to Geralt. He felt Geralt roll onto his side and their eyes met. Geralt was smirking at him with mirth in his eyes.

Jaskier was overwhelmed with the love that was in his heart. In reality his time with Geralt really hadn’t been that long at all but it had just been blissful. Their forbidden romance seemed to have extended their honeymoon period and he still felt as gooey over his boyfriend as he had the first time he’d seen Geralt enter his classroom ten months prior.

“Quite right, dear. I love the zoo,” he sighed longingly. It had been ages since he had been.

“Next time we’ll go.” Geralt suggested. “I like the animals.”

“Deal. Ooh does this mean I finally get to meet Roach?!” He cried in excitement, a smile lighting up his face.

Geralt nodded. “She doesn’t like new people though. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Jaskier reached over to kiss Geralt and then rest his forehead against Geralt’s. “Of course not, darling.”

“Good…” Geralt paused. “Darling.”

Jaskier’s heart clenched in his chest and he buried his face in one of the pillows of the bed, making sadly incoherent noises that he wasn’t proud of. “Geralt!!” He whined pitifully. “You can’t just say things like that!”

Geralt scoffed. “You do all the time.”

Jaskier glared at him with a pout. He could feel the heat of the blush on his cheek. “Yeah, well…”

“Don’t worry.” Geralt smirked, kissing Jaskier’s temple. “I don’t think pet names are my thing.”

Jaskier pouted. “Hmmph.”

Reluctantly he rolled off the bed and pulled Geralt to his feet. With one last kiss he let Geralt get dressed. His boyfriend really did need to get back to Ciri and apparently Jaskier was going to be re-introduced to the young girl as her father’s new boyfriend; only a day after the term had finished.

Jaskier wasn’t nervous. Why would he be? Ciri loved him… as her teacher. Oh gods, he was going to fuck this up so badly. His heart was racing, and not in the good I’m in love way. Oh no. No, no, no, no.

He gasped a breath and leant against the wall. Geralt’s arms wrapped around his waist in an instance. “Breathe, Jaskier.”

Jaskier breathed, trying to match his breath with Geralt’s. “Sorry,” he mumbled when the worst of it was over.

“What happened?”

“What if she doesn’t like me?” He asked, his voice sounding pathetic even to his ears.

“She adores you, Jaskier.” Geralt nuzzled his neck gently. “She was disappointed when I said it wasn’t you.”

Jaskier groaned. “She’ll hate that you lied to her.”

“She’ll come round.” Geralt insisted.

“How are you so calm?” He snapped.

Geralt sighed. “Because she’s my daughter and she loves me, and she adores you.”

Jaskier nodded. “Ok. Ok. Yes. Let’s do this, before I run away and decide to live in a cave with just my lute for company.”

Geralt scoffed. “Always so dramatic.”

Jaskier managed a smile at that, even after his little wobble of anxiety. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

__________________

They were standing, hand in hand, outside Geralt’s house. Geralt and Ciri’s house. Jaskier hadn’t been here since the beginning of May when Ciri had been away with Yennefer. Ciri wasn’t away this time and they were about to reveal everything to her. He curled his toes in his shoes and hummed nervously under his breath. Geralt’s house suddenly seemed a lot larger than it had before.

Geralt squeezed his hand. “It’ll be fine, Jask.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “I know. I know. I trust you.”

“Come on then. You’ll stay for dinner?”

Jaskier nodded again. “But I should probably go home after dinner. I imagine we’ll both need our own space by then.”

Geralt chuckled quietly. “Yeah. Ready?”

“Yes?” Jaskier’s voice squeaked a little, much to his embarrassment.

“Good.” Geralt moved to unlock the front door but it opened before he could get the key in the lock.

Yennefer stood on the other side with her hands on her hips. She was smirking at them both, looking far too evilly delighted for Jaskier’s liking.

“MR JASKIER!!” Ciri shrieked and there was a blur of blonde hair before Jaskier was knocked flying by the young girl.

He laughed nervously and hugged her back. “Hello, Ciri.”

“I knew it was you!!” She screamed happily. “Dad said it wasn’t but I knew it was you!”

“You don’t mind?” Jaskier asked, tentatively patting his former student on the back as she clung onto him.

Ciri pulled back and looked up at him. Her nose was scrunched up and she pouted. “Why would I mind?”

“Well, because I was your teacher and now I’m dating your father?” Jaskier stammered. He glanced at Geralt who just raised a knowing eyebrow at him. The bastard had known this would happen.

Ciri rolled her eyes and scoffed. “So? Everyone will be jealous. You’re the best teacher at school!” She announced as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. “Maybe you shouldn’t boast too much about it Ciri. It’s not kind.”

Ciri just stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his tongue out right back at her and she giggled.

“Jaskier’s right, princess. It would be best if you don’t tell everyone just yet,” Geralt said as he scooped her up into a hug.

“But it’s Mistle’s birthday party next week!” She pouted.

“Ciri,” Yennefer sighed, brushing the young girl’s hair out of her eyes. “Can we trust you to keep this a secret for now?”

Ciri scrunched her nose but nodded. “Ok, but only if we can go back to see the lions at the zoo! They were my favourite.”

Jaskier met Geralt’s eyes and smiled. “Well, buttercup, funny you should say that….”

____________

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #modern au #wolfie's witcher writing

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years ago

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Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Part three of the first words au suggested by my girl, Sima, as anonymously demanded in an ask politely requested in the notes sjsjjs.

Will I cry? Maybe. Will YOU cry? Hopefully Probably. They'll be happy tears tho. I think. I hope.

(Wtf does Hamish even study, guys) Hamish always feels like there's something missing. The apartment doesn't feel like home. It feels strange and alien. He doesn't know what he's missing. Or maybe it's a who? Late in the night, Hamish will check his wrist and he'll wonder when he'll hear the words. He wonders what sort of situation they're going to be in. The days feel monotonous and like they drag on for years. Something is missing.

Vera doesn't go home for anything other than sleep. The past few years, drifting away from Hamish, wasn't so bad. She still went home, albeit very late, and she still didn't have much of a problem delaying leaving. It felt nice to be at home and remember the days when she had enough free time to lounge around with Hamis. Now, going home brought guilt with it. Everywhere she looked, he was there and she couldn't face knowing she had done it to him. Part of her hoped he'd never get hid memories back. She hoped she could live with Hamish having no idea who she was, but she knew she could never live with Hamish hating her. Vera often sits alone in the reliquary, staring at her wrist. Remembering the day she watched the words write themselves. For weeks, Vera didn't look at her wrist because she knew soulmates changed and she knew that Hamish might find someone else without all his memories. She sits behind the desk and fiddles with a ring handing from a chain around her neck.

The day Hamish gets his memory back, he doesn't know what to feel. Jack is very vocal about how pissed he is at Vera and Alyssa, more than the Order as a whole. Lilith just shrugs it off. She never expected anything different from them.

Randall waits until Jack and Lilith have left the den, probably to hunt down their knives that they'd both had at one point. "Hamish --"

"Don't, Randall."

"We don't know if she really wanted--"

"She's the Grand Magus. She holds the highest authority. Don't make excuses for her."

Randall leaves quietly. He knows how stubborn Hamish can get.

"We're going to make them pay," Jack tells the knights after they've been inducted. "All of them."

Hamish glances back to see Alyssa walk by. Yes, he thinks of Vera, all of them.

They need the necklace. They need to get a copy of it.

"Let me," Jack says, "I'll--" "No, I'll do it."

Randall is rightfully Concerned™. "Dude, are you sure? It could get--" "Ugly? Painful? For her, I certainly hope so."

Lilith, as Hamish leaves: So, um, is now a good time to ask about what happened during the ambush last year or . . .

Randall: you know what, I think you should talk to Hamish about this one......

I am a strong woman, Vera thinks to herself when Hamish walks in with a drink. I will not break, I will not break, I will not break.

Ultimately, she gives in anyway a few days later. Not to say that she's blameless. Hamish, despite all his burning hatred, still loves Vera like before. He's intrigued at how he can love and hate her at the same time. Is this what people mean when they say, "it's complicated"?

"Bring me something in a tall glass," she says, absently clicking the heel of her shoe against the floor twice. I want your attention.

"What happened to you?" "NOTHING. What-- what happened to you?"

Randall's still wary of the demon summoning, but he's noticed the look on Hamish's face. He hasn't seen that look in years. Big gasp from Randall. Big glare from Hamish.

Later, once the excitement is slowly dying down for Hamish and he settles down to watch his young friends thoroughly enjoy entertaining themselves, Randall scoots up to Hamish. "You are so weak for V." "Am not." "You've got her lipstick on your face." "Shit, really? Did Jack and Lilith notice?" "HA!" "Fuck you, Randall ..... don't tell them anything." "My silence costs twenty bucks." ".......fuck u"

"Let me dispel the rumours. We are all going to die." Hamish's amused snort is quickly silenced by the withering glare Vera gives him.

When Vera comes to and notices Hamish taking care of her, she's almost relieved. Then she remembers the threat, Alyssa, Kepler and most importantly, no getting close to Hamish until everyhting is all sorted.

"So . . . what's all this talk about wolves?"

Honestly, at this point, Vera thinks she's going to glare hard enough that her eyeballs pop. "You fucking IDIOTS! You lying fuck, you actually got me thinking you genuinely cared. And you, you little shit . . . . you -- you -- you -- fuck you. Where is my inventory?"

"It was stolen from us." :|

"Oh, so you lost it. No surprise there."

"That's a little harsh, V." "I told you not to call me that, Randall." "Sorry. Look, we'll get the sickles back. We won't--"

"Too late."

Losing Lilith only makes Hamish worse. He wants to blame Vera and the Order, he really does. But he can't. He knows Vera and he knows she's not selfish enough to do this for her own benefit. Fuck feelings, they just make everything so damn complicated.

Vera is pissed at Hamish for being so petty. Hamish is pissed at Vera for the blatant betrayal. Vera is pissed with herself for allowing everything to come to this. Hamish is pissed at himself for being unable to resist Vera. They're both pissed and not talking to each other and frankly, it's starting to weigh on Randall, the only one who really knows what's going on behind closed doors.

"You know, you really should talk to Vera." Gabrielle appears out of nowhere. "About what?" Hamish and Randall: terrified screaming for about half a second until they finally spot the tiny Acolyte.

"Nothing." "You two are up to something. I wanna know what it is." "Are you blackmailing us . . . to spend time with us?" "No. What d'you need to talk to the Grand Magus about?" "Getting you some heels so we can see you when you're approaching." "Very funny, Randall."

When Vera attacks the Prometheans (and Jack) with her emotional amplifier, it's not just the desperate cries of a baby ringing in everyone's ears. Among it all is Vera's own voice, her always doubting that she'd done the right thing in erasing the Knights' memories, her thinking about how much Hamish was going to hate her and that was a price she was willing to pay to keep him safe for as long as possible.

Among it all are nights where a very young Vera would cry alone, wiping at her eyes with a bare wrist. And then a much older Vera, hiding away in a vault, refusing to cry as she looks at the words on her wrist.

"I don't need your pity, Mr Morton," Vera says, hoping and praying that Jack doesn't care enough to put all the pieces together. "I'm sorry about your daughter." Vera doesn't turn back to face him. She's okay. She really is. And then a very quiet, very whispered, "and Hamish." Vera leaves before Jack can see her strength fail.

"Are either of you going to tell me why you're all on first name basis with the Grand Magus?" "It's a Knight secret, Gabby, sorry." "Fuck you."

Hamish is still being Petty and Pissed, so when Vera gives them the contract and Randall gets super upset, Jack's the one to tell him to lay off a bit. "I think you're overreacting." "And I think you're protecting Hamish's girlfriend."

Hamish, low warning tone and Vera, high yell: "Randall!"

"Am I wrong?"

"About which part?" Jack mutters, glad the joke makes Randall laugh. He can deal with one angry werewolf. Two is way too much a burden.

"Have you seen or heard from Hamish this morning?" "Why would you ask me that?" Jack gives her a deadpan look. Big sigh. "No, I haven't."

Hamish being missing shifts Vera's entire outlook. She's wasting all this time being mad and angry when she could have been using it to try and mend her relationship with Hamish.

"Is everyone okay?" Hamish grins because he knows that as pissed as they are with each other, she worries for him just as much as he worries for her. Vera would have to hit a very high bar if she really wanted to break off every tie she had to Hamish and Hamish is sure Vera doesn't want to even touch that bar.

Vera is completely stunned when Hamish literally throws Angus out of the room. In all honesty, she shouldn't have been, but still. She expected a little more restraint, given Hamish was still visibly pissed with her. On the outside, anyway.

"I'm sorry, Vera. I saw Angus and I just reacted. I almost died yesterday and now it seems like I might die anyway. Part of me wishes we never got our memories back. I could just go back to being . . . happy."

Vera doesn't turn back. "Would you really? Be happy, I mean. You have all the answers now. You know all the right questions. Would you really be happy?"

"Ignorance is bliss." "Not always."

And then the tartarus eruptions begin.

Jack runs into Alyssa at a Praxis location and the Knights recover a third of the Order's inventory.

"Tell me about these puppies." Obviously, Vera wants information about what Praxis is up to, but Randall deadass adopted the puppies so now Vera is subject to being lectured about the puppies. Okay, not lectured, she's somewhat invested in her new grandchildren. Hamish has a small smile on his face because Vera's still his Vera. Strangely fond of Randall despite all his annoying flaws -- just like Hamish himself.

Vera makes the three of them Magistratuses on the spot and Hamish looks like he's beaming at the promotion but really he's just so thrilled to see Stubborn and Petty Vera go up against Kepler.

"I'll order some wine." "Champagne, please. We're at war with Praxis, not good taste." And she's apparently retained what he taught her about drinks!

No matter what she does or what she acts like, the very core of who Vera is, her innermost self, will never change. And Hamish is glad for it, because that's who he loves. And the words mark her forever, so she'll never forget it.

"It's all right to let someone care about you." Vera shakes her head, because she's done horrible, horrible things and some would even call her irredeemable. She wants to argue and fight with Hamish because away from her is the only place he'll be safe. "V. . ."

Hamish is better at saying things when he doesn't talk. So he takes hold of her hand and gives it two small squeezes. I love you. He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and trails his hand down to her chin before lifting her head, guiding her to look at him. His fingers tap on her neck. One, two, three times. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here for you.

And when everything dies down, Hamish swears to protect Vera. He and the rest of the Knights will protect her secret with their lives. Even if she weren't their Grand Magus, she's Hamish's soulmate and given how important Hamish is to them, it's no surprise Vera automatically is, too.

Besides, Randall kinda likes the Mom Vibes he gets from Vera. Gabrielle is jealous.

Vera finds Hamish taking a nap under the tree. He squints at her. "Don't make me look like an idiot. Get down here."

Vera smiles and joins Hamish on the grass. "I love you," she says softly, finally, finally finding the peace and joy she had before she and Hamish started drifting. She looks at the words on his hand, then the words on her own.

Soulmates. Someone who is always going to be there for her, no matter what. It's nice to have one, even though for most of her life, she thought she would never find one.

But the special thing about Hamish is that they had something really special long before they discovered they were soulmates. Vera smiled in the knowledge that Hamish wouldn't have done a damn thing different even if she still had s blank wrist. He loves her, she loves him, and frankly, nothing else matters.

FINALLY COMPLETE!!!!!! I trust this is satisfactory, my loves??

See other soulmate AUs that make me cry

#vera x hamish #hamish x vera #hamish duke #vera stone #the order #netflix #the hermetic order of the blue rose #the knights of st christopher #the knights of the blue rose #the knights of saint christopher #soulmates #soulmates au #please just give me the soulmate au i want #soulmate #soulmate au

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chittapornswife · 5 years ago

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DNYL Club | 10.

A/N: I lost the original font for the headers & not even lying that’s the main reason why this was so delayed LOL because i had everything in my head on how this was going but then the missing font had me like :o Anyways, as usual I hope you enjoy this chapter! :D It’s a bit shorter than the others but really big cliffhanger at the ending i am sorry ;-; Also! I’ve started a tag list so pls let me know if you’d like to be a part of it! :D

Genre: high-school!au, non-idol!au, fluff, angst, gender neutral, minor swears Word Count: 2.2K Tag List: @jenniferecand @frankenstein852

DNYL Masterlist!

You woke up the next day feeling pretty refreshed, the other night’s happy high still continuing it seemed. The weather seemed cooler than usual as your window’s view consisted of some fluffy clouds with some sunlight peeking through. However it didn’t matter at all, it could be the rainiest day of the year and you’d still be happy because of the night before’s events.

Of course, there were some feelings of nervousness coursing through you at the thought of how school was going to be. Trina seemed not so stable and a part of you feared that she would show up at school to spread the fake news of you and Jeno dating which definitely would take the whole school by storm.

“Let’s focus on the present first.” You mumbled to yourself, throwing on a windbreaker and shoving on your shoes before slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

Grabbing a muffin and a water bottle you dashed out the door, wanting to be early to school for once. Munching happily away you were reminded of Hyuck’s weird text.

“Are you free after school tomorrow? I wanted to talk to u abt somethin”

What did he want to talk about? There wasn’t anything that stood out besides it being related to Mark. You had little to no classes together and on top of that, usually your conversations were just rants about incompetent people at school. But he could just as easily call you or message you about it instead of meeting in person. It made you anxious but you didn’t want to surround your everyday life with anxiety after having to keep the whole DNYL Club under wraps. So you shoved your thoughts about Hyuck to the back of your mind.

It was becoming a regular thing for you to force yourself to stop overthinking. And frankly, you didn’t even know it was a good idea or not. But it felt like the world was on your shoulders after knowing all of the boys’ secrets so you couldn't add any more stress.

When you arrived at school you were shoved to the ground by an unexpected presence.

“(Y/N)!!!!!!!” Chenle shrieked in your ear. You were frozen as you felt Chenle’s whole body on yours. It was almost like having a younger brother attacking you to the ground. Once you regained your composure and thoughts, you looked around to see if Mark or anyone you knew was nearby to see this interaction but thankfully no one was.

“Chenle get off of me!!!” You whisper-yelled as you shimmied out of his tight grasp and started to collect your backpack’s belongings that were strewn across the floor.

The boy crossed his legs with his bag hanging off his shoulder and gave you this puppy face as he whined, “ But I wanted to talk to you this morning.”

“About what?”

“About-” He stopped mid-sentence as another hand joined you in picking up your stuff. Huh?

You looked up to see Jeno not paying any attention to you and simply putting your belongings in your backpack like it was no big deal. Your heart did a little flip as this was another memory you hoped to capture in your heart for forever.

He wore a black long-sleeve and jeans with his hair covering his fore-head like usual. It reminded you of the other night with how stunning he looked when his hair was styled up and how you wished you had taken a secret picture. Jeno was so simple but so effortlessly flawless in whatever he did.

Wait. No. Stop.

You weren’t going to fall for him now. Not after Mark and his rejection. No, you couldn’t and besides, Mark hadn’t one hundred percent gone from your mind nor heart as much as you wanted him to.

“It’s okay, I got it.” You didn’t want to cause a bigger scene with the fact that Jeno was going out of his way to help someone and that someone was a nobody like you. But as you reached out for your pencil case you heard him mumble, “I’m paying you back.”

Oh. Of course, that’s why he was helping. It wasn’t because he was doing this out of kindness but just so he could settle and balance out the favour you had done for him. You shouldn’t have been so naive in thought.

Once your items were back in your bag, Jeno got up and walked away before you could even thank him. Meanwhile, Chenle started to blabber beside you reminding you of Olivia who was always super chatty. Great, just what you needed, a male version of Olivia. That reminded you, you hadn’t seen her in quite some time. You made a mental note to message her later on.

Thankfully, the first class bell rang and Chenle left your side. To be honest you hadn’t paid much attention to what he’d said only managing to catch the words “lunch” “asking” “surprise”.

It probably wasn’t anything big.

“Do you wanna meet up during lunch actually? We can eat outside together, the day’s not so bad.”

You looked at your phone after coming out of second class wondering what the rush was with Hyuck.

“Hey angel, whaddya thinking so hard about in that pretty lil head of yours?” Jaemin slung his arm over your shoulders. Okay, you could take this from Chenle since he was always in his own little bubble and didn’t care about what other people thought. But you swear that you all had agreed to not interacting openly at school and Jaemin had abided by that rule until now.

You picked his arm off very delicately and put it back to his side, nervously looking side to side to see no one had noticed before you whispered, “What are you doing in the middle of the hallway?!?!?”

He grinned, for some reason making you think of a sunflower blooming today with his pastel yellow shirt and light blue jeans. “Don’t worry angel, everyone knows I flirt with cuties.”

You tried to shut your heart up as it fluttered at his cheesy words replying, “Well i’m not a cutie and definitely not someone you’d ever flirt with.”

“Do you think I haven’t been flirting with you this whole time? If so, then this is a problem, I gotta step up my game.” You suppressed a laugh at his antics because you didn’t want to egg him on any further. Any more and he wouldn’t leave you alone for the day.

You were at your locker already and as you opened it, Jaemin leaned against the one beside it asking, “But seriously, are you good? You look really worried more than usual.”

‘More than usual’? Did he pay more attention to you than you knew of? You shook your head, placing your textbooks inside, “I’m fine, just thinking about tests and stuff.”

He pushed himself off the locker saying, “Whatever you say, but if you need to talk i’m only a DM away.”

He ruffled your hair whispering, “See you later cutie” before walking away to the cafeteria with no doubt a wide smile on his face. You smiled to yourself at the sight of his back, who thought you’d become so comfortable with the school’s flirt and star soccer player to the point where his antics became endearing? Though you’d never admit it to him ever because you didn’t want to add that to his ego.

“Were you just talking to Na Jaemin?”

You jumped, hearing a voice so close from behind you and turned around to see Hyuck with one brow lifted and arms crossed his chest.

“Jeez Hyuck, you could at least tap me or say a ‘hi’ before showing up out of nowhere.” You put a hand on your heart and tried to slow down your rapid breathing. He continued to stare judgingly with his eyes asking the question he had just asked you.

Why were you talking to Jaemin?

Ah shit. To be honest, you had anticipated that this would happen sooner or later. Either it was going to be Hyuck or one of the other guys from Mark’s group who’d see you and one of the DNYL members together. But truthfully, you hadn’t ever thought of how to respond to any of it before. And now you were put on the spot. How great.

“Uhhhh, how about we talk outside and eat? I can explain everything there.”

Hyuck pursed his lips but nodded, letting you grab your items and thankfully buying you some time to come up with a lie. You��d promised yourself no more lies but it looked like you couldn’t keep that promise for today.

You followed Hyuck to the usual spot you all would eat at with the group and sat down, preparing yourself for the set of questions he probably was waiting to fire at you. But Hyuck was silent, just staring at you as if asking you to explain yourself first.

“So um, I didn’t wanna tell anyone because it’s supposed to be a secret but uh…. I’m-tutoring-Jaemin-for-English-class.” You rushed out the last part hoping it was believable. In all honesty, you had no idea if Jaemin was great in English class or not but you had to use something.

“Seriously?” Hyuck bit into his sandwich seemingly unconvinced.

“Yep.” You nodded and took a bite of your own sandwich.

“Out of all the people in class, you were chosen? I mean no offense, but well offense, you’re not the best English student there is, how come Julie wasn’t asked to help? She’s great at everything.”

You sucked in a deep breath at his response, forgetting how nice it was to forget about her for the past few days.

“Well, you know how busy she is. And with finals coming up she declined with helping him so now I just help him sometimes.”

“Mhm hmm and do you help Jeno too? Even Chenle, the little hyper kid?”

Oh shit.

“W-what do you mean?” “I saw the whole situation in the morning plus I’ve seen you leave school and go walk towards the direction they’re all hanging out. I’ve even seen that annoyingly happy Harvey kid with you guys too. How do you explain that?”

Okay, now this was getting irritating. What was it to Hyuck and who you hung out with? It wasn’t like you were best-friends with him, more like mutual friends since you both were friends with Mark. So what gave him the right to interrogate you and your choice of people to hang out with? Even if they were popular people.

“Why can’t I?” You retorted. Hyuck scoffed, putting down his food, “They’re waaaay different from you (y/n), like all of them. The Chenle kid I could understand because you have some younger friends but Jaemin and Jeno? They’re both sworn enemies and not to mention I don’t think they’d hang out with someone who has nothing to do with them.”

Alright, that did it. You knew how much you put yourself down with thinking you didn’t fit anywhere but hearing it come from Hyuck’s mouth really upset you. You got along just fine with Jaemin and you were getting somewhere with Jeno. Even if the main reason you all were friendlier to each other was because of the club, it wasn’t fake. It was built upon real feelings and thoughts. Heck, you probably had a better time doing all those after school club activities with them than you’d had playing video games at one of the guys’ houses. Hyuck could say whatever he wanted but he definitely couldn’t criticize you in who you talked to, even if he was curious as to why.

“You know what Donghyuck, I don’t think I should explain myself to you,” You got up, watching his eyes widen at your usage of his full name then come back to a scowl, “I can be friends with whoever I want doesn’t matter how different they are from me. And I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you about the why’s. I know you wanted to talk to me about something but just text me about it cause I can’t stand being near you right now. Goodbye.”

You started to walk away until Hyuck shouted, “I wouldn’t go back to the cafeteria if I was you.”

Huh?

You turned back to see him biting his lip, the expression on his face much different than the scowl he was adorning before.

“Why not?”

“Well uh the reason I wanted to talk to you is cause….”

Hyuck gulped before continuing,

“Mark’s doing a promposal for Julie right now.”

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #dnyl club #dnyl #nct dream #hrvy #jeno #jaemin #chenle #jisung #renjun #nct dream fics #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct series #nct dream series #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream x reader

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snowbellewells · 4 years ago

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“A Cottage by the Sea” {Part Two}

I apologize now for the delay, but I had my second @cssns fic to post, a few family obligations and other things pulling at me. I will absolutely try to get this one back on a regular schedule after this, but for now, I’ll stop making excuses and let you get back to what has been happening to our shipwrecked sailor and the princess who loves him... Enjoy!!

***Thank you SO much once again to @searchingwardrobes for the stunning artwork she made to accompany this story! I seriously can’t say enough how much I love it. <3***

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half. But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…”

Links to Previous Installments: Prologue Part One

Part Two

When Killian’s eyes opened once more, it felt as though he had been unconscious for ages. The grit he blinked away and the painful shock that the bright sun was to his retinas had him fighting not to close them again and float back into oblivion. It took a moment for the dizziness and disorientation that pressed down on his back to subside and for his shaking arms to support pushing up to a sitting position. His skin stung and stretched with the movement when he did so, and it was only then that Killian realized he had been sprawled out prone on some deserted stretch of sand, the naval uniform he’d donned so proudly stained and torn, and any exposed skin blistered red with sunburn.

Wincing, struggling not to vomit seawater and sand back up on himself, he began to recall a bit more of what had occurred, brushing a dark, saltwater-encrusted hank of his hair off his forehead as he tried to squint against the brightness assaulting him to get the lay of the land. There had been a terrible freak storm out on the water, blowing up suddenly as if conjured especially to attack their vessel and take it down. There had been no hope of navigating such a maelstrom - in spite of their best efforts. And then, he’d gone overboard in the rising waves… there was fire… and a whirlpool… It had swallowed the ship, and all his fellow sailors, whole, right before his eyes.

Trying to take stock of himself, Killian made sure his fingers, toes, legs, arms, all extremities seemed in order, and then managed to haul himself to his feet. He staggered a bit drunkenly at first, sensing he looked a bit like the old sea dogs seen at port, past their years of crewing a vessel and often lost in their cups, but forced himself to reach the minimal shade of a palm tree nearby and leaned against its trunk heavily, catching his breath.

There wasn’t much else to take in. As far as his sight carried in either direction, he saw only the isolated beach, the sea to one side crashing against the sand in unending rhythm and a thicker stand of trees farther inland on his other. At least there was some shelter from the blistering heat, he tried to comfort himself. But no signs at all of any habitation, or any other living beings. The pounding waves, the rustling leaves overhead… and nothing else.

But wait… hadn’t there been a voice? Before, as he’d slid under the churning waves, he’d felt arms pulling him back to the surface. And there was… singing?

Killian blinked dazedly, shaking his head of such fanciful nonsense. Who would have been singing? For all he could tell, he was alone, on a deserted island. What he needed to focus on were not fevered mirages but finding some source of water, aloe for his burns if a plant could be located, and some sort of shelter before nightfall.

Heaving a sigh, the young lieutenant knew he needed to get to work if he wanted to have any sort of protection from the elements and any natives or wild animals he might encounter before nightfall. Trudging further from the crashing surf, Killian rolled up the damp and bedraggled sleeves of his white shirt, after quickly shedding the naval jacket, and tried to push aside the waterlogged fogginess of his head and the aches and pains of extremities that had been buffetted by waves and debris from the ship’s wreckage. He had more pressing concerns needing to be dealt with in short order.

Soon, he was pulling branches and underbrush to a flat spot of beach and attempting to weave them together in his best approximation of a canopy - both for shade and rain protection when he lay down to rest. He propped it up to form a sort of lean-to up the beach near the treeline using boards from the ship that had washed ashore near him. Killian tried not to focus on the fact that he saw no sign of the ship’s sails, lifeboats, or any of his fellow sailors. He knew they’d been swallowed by that unnatural whirlpool, and yet he couldn’t fully process it either. It didn’t seem possible that all other traces of the ship, the mission, and its crew had vanished in an instant, and that he was the only one left.

When finally he had what passed for a sturdy enough shelter in which to pass the night, Killian noticed while wiping sweat from his forehead that the sun was beginning its descent back down the western side of the sky. He needed to find fresh water to drink, and gather enough more brush to start a fire. By this point, his limbs were nearly numb from exertion and lack of water, but he couldn’t stop yet. He would be doomed if he lay down before accomplishing at least those two tasks. Grim determination in the fierce lines of his young face, Killian headed into the trees, in search of some stream or pool toward the island’s center. Something must support the vegetation after all.

He was too focused on the necessities before him to sense that he was being watched, though he was indeed. Kind eyes, void of malice, indeed aching to help him, if their mood could have been read, kept their distance, but yet drank in every movement and detail of the young survivor on the sand. Eyes that seemed so intent, so loving that they might never look away… and were as limitless and blue as Killian’s own.

~~***~~

At the same time, back in Misthaven, Princess Emma waited anxiously for her love’s return. Oh, she knew it might yet be some weeks before they could possibly sail to Agrabah and back - even with the fairest of winds and smooth sailing. Despite that rational knowledge however, her young heart aflutter with love newly voiced and emphatically returned couldn’t help counting the days, even the hours, until Killian’s ship made port once more, she could look upon his well-known and beloved face and fling herself into his arms.

She grinned mischeivously as soon as that image graced her mind’s eye. Killian himself would caution her not to do any such thing. He was self-assured and competent in his naval training, a confident sailor, secure in his position and satisfied that he had earned his rank among his peers. Still, much to Emma’s chagrin, he never seemed to forget that she was royalty- the sole heir to an entire kingdom - and that he was certainly not; in fact his origins were so completely unknown as to be a mystery even to him. Though the smallest quirk of his smile or wink from his eyes as they made faces behind the dance master’s back when Emma struggled with a step and he turned to demonstrate again with long-suffering sighs at the princess’ lack of natural grace, though even those tiniest of his familiar expressions could set her blood rushing and her heart to pounding, Emma knew Killian would be embarrassed if she were to be as brazen as she were tempted in her feelings for him in front of a crowd. If she really were to throw herself into his wiry, tanned arms and take the second kiss she had been dreaming of since the first ended at their parting in full public view, he would blush to the very tips of his honestly quite adorably pointed elfin ears. She had learned quickly over the years that he did not see himself as of the same standing as she and her family; no matter that he had been brought up as one of them since they found him, and her parents would no more think that way than she did, he would still fear tarnishing her standing or regard by choosing him as her match.

‘Utter nonsense!’ Emma snorted to herself with a frustrated shake of her head, a furrow of consternation creasing her brow. She wouldn’t stand for anyone to say or think such a thing; it was one of the first topics she meant to discuss with him as soon as they were reunited. Everything had happened so quickly once they had admitted their feelings to each other; he had been ready to set sail, and after such a breathless kiss and embrace, she had been struggling to regain her wits enough to speak at all.

Even days later, Emma blushed to think of their stolen moment as she ran a comb through her hair before twisting it into a long braid for comfort while she slept. Surely the messenger bird of her mother’s would return in the morning with an answer to the missive she had sent after her lieutenant. She had kept it short, but had yearned to let him know she would think of him every second he was gone and be counting the moments to their reunion. Queen Snow’s winged couriers never failed to locate their recipients - and often within a day or two, much quicker and more reliably than any sort of human post by land or sea yet devised.

With that encouraging thought buoying her spirits, the crown princess curled up on her side under the covers with the hope that she might receive a reply in her sailor’s own hand as early as the morrow. She slept that night with a smile on her face, dreaming of a crooked, playful grin and kind eyes as blue as the ocean itself.

On the morrow, Emma rose with the sun, well rested and full of energy, her mind recalling almost immediately her hope for the day. She paused at her vanity table only long enough to pull on and belt her dressing gown over the long, silken shift in which she slept, stuff her feet into slippers, and peer out her window at the perch with food to which their messenger birds were trained to return. Even the absence of the small creature didn’t dampen her spirits; it was early yet, and the day was young.

Not until she headed downstairs to break fast with her parents and godmother did anything occur to rattle her cheerful mindset. Their morning meal opened as usual with Granny bustling around them to place fresh-baked biscuits with newly churned butter and stewed apples for topping, along with fried ham slices, before them, and they all happily tucked into the simple but delicious repast. Ruby and her mother spoke animatedly on the possibility of whether or not Graham would actually allow himself to dance with Ruby at her birthday celebration and admit the mutual infatuation which had been clear between the queen’s guard and best friend for months, or if he would continue to linger on the sidelines keeping watch, as serious and solitary as always. It seemed as though the man were still paying penance for choices made long ago leading to his enslavement and forced allegiance to Snow’s wicked stepmother before he was freed. All of that had happened years ago, before Emma was even born, but she did often sense the captain of their royal guard carried some weight on his shoulders that never lessened. He had always been kind to her, doting even, teaching her survival skills when she had been yet a child to help her in case she were ever lost in the woods, or needed to hide in nature as a place of escape. As she had grown, he had often gladly shown her techniques to better her tracking and archery when her mother could not. All the same, even when the quiet, gentle Huntsman did smile, there was a haunted sadness still clouding his eyes. Emma was contemplating that even as she met her father’s humored gaze while her mother teased Ruby that she should wear her tightest corset and brightest red gown and not give Graham a chance to deny her a turn around the dancefloor. Her godmother had winked and given them all a devious smile in return, which Emma knew meant that their Huntsman was bound to get an eyefull he couldn’t resist, and their foursome had returned to quietly finishing their meal.

Once they had eaten all they could hold, her parents were standing to go to open court where they would hear the needs and requests of the people for the rest of the morning, telling Emma to join them whenever her morning’s lesson was completed, when an emissary of a neighboring kingdom hurried into the kitchen, led by her “Uncle” Grumpy and his rather suspicious usual grumbling face. The young man appeared not in the least daunted by the dwarf’s inhospital introduction, however. He looked only at the King and Queen, bowing and breathlessly offering a quick apology for the interruption. Emma paused as well on her way back upstairs to her tutor, curious for any word of things beyond their borders - both hopeful for news of Killian’s mission and fearing it, as news might well mean trouble and explanation for why her note had remained unanswered. Ruby waited at her elbow, as if also alerted by some sixth sense to the import this man’s tidings could bear.

“Nonsense, my friend,” King David reassured the young man as he smiled understandingly and nodded for him to proceed. “You are quite alright, what news do you have for us?”

Emma, however, had taken note of the young man’s attire - the livery of her parents’ friends Eric and Ariel, King and Queen of the neighboring maritime kingdom - and her stomach flip-flopped sickeningly, the premonition that his news might pertain to her sailor’s well-being growing all the stronger.

The courier dipped his head in respectful acknowledgement once more, but as he actually began to speak, Emma noticed that he pulled the cap from his head and began to nervously twist the material in his hands as he proceeded, clearly reluctant to offer the tidings that were in store. Emma tried to steel herself for whatever might be coming, but the slithering nausea moving through her frame warned her she might have only limited success.

“My Lord and Lady bid me notify your Highnesses of the occurrence witnessed off the shores of some uncharted islands near the Echoing Seas on our kingdom’s border, two nights hence,” the messenger began hesitantly. “As you well know, our Queen Ariel has familial connections and contacts in the acquatic world, far beyond the scope of which my king’s merely human scouts would ever possess. On the night in question, one of Queen Ariel’s own sisters was nearly swallowed by a sudden and unnatural whirlpool that came out of nowhere. As she just barely pulled herself from the undertow that would have dragged her to the very depths - dangerous even to mer-people, apparently - she saw a ship sucked into its vortex. She was reluctant to report, as you can imagine, knowing our leader’s friendship and allegiance with your Majesties, that she recognized Misthaven’s flags on the doomed ship, as well as numerous sailors onboard, fighting for their lives. According to Princess Arista, the entire vessel and all its visible passengers were subsumed within moments of the typhoon’s appearance.”

The young man’s head fell to stare at the floor as his report finished, knowing it was dire news to digest, and yet clearly well-trained enough to wait for a reply or further instructions, no matter how awkward. Emma felt herself struggling, gulping for air as she blindly stumbled to one of the kitchen stools they had vacated before she collapsed to the floor. ‘No,’ her mind was repeating blankly, ‘It cannot be...not Killian…’ even as a dizzying haze seemed to obstruct her senses, clouding her surroundings and setting up a dull roar in her ears that made all other sounds fade to a distant hum. Ruby was immediately at her side, a soothing hand stroking her hair like the woman had often done when Emma was small and woke from a nightmare, when the werewolf’s keen hearing made her godmother the only one aware and who always slipped through the silent and darkened halls of the castle to comfort her.

She knew her parents must be looking to her in concern as well - asking if she was alright - but with the strange echo resounding in her head she couldn’t hear them clearly. As the monarchs, obviously, they would be saddened for the loss of all aboard the ship, and would keenly feel the responsibility for each death, not just Killian’s. It had been an official mission, and as such her parents would bear a weighing burden, though they could have had no way of knowing such a tempest would appear.

After some long minutes of heavy silence, the emissary prompted gently, “Your Majesties? Will there be any reply?”

Her father spoke then, moving forward to shake the man’s hand and give him thanks for bringing them news so promptly and accurately, before rumors and falsehoods could spread. Though he spoke with the same calm assurance she had always known, there was a quaver of emotion in King David’s words that couldn’t be ignored for one who knew him as well as his only daughter. Though she was far from being clearly focused and taking in all that was being said around her, Emma knew from experience that he must be expressing their hope that he would return their gratitude and good will to Ariel and Eric, along with the hope that they would notify them of any further developments regarding the storm and its aftermath, and that the rider would partake of food and drink before returning to his own kingdom.

Once it seemed that the newcomer was leaving their presence, alone at last with only those loved ones she had known all her life, Emma slumped further in her seat, nearly boneless in the devastation attempting to spread throughout her being. Head in shaking hand, Emma tried to console herself, repeating that he must have escaped the ship sometime before “Auntie” Ariel’s sister saw the craft’s demise. He could not simply be gone from this earth and she feel no different. Surely she would have known…

However, just before the man exited the room, he turned back with a remembered afterthought. “One last thing, my lieges,” he added, almost sheepishly. “My Lord and Lady were unsure whether or not to include this supposition in their notification, as many outside our borders do not believe in the craven villain and view him as a mere character of legend and imagination, but rumors have been increasing for weeks now of more frequent and violent attacks from the sea demon Davy Jones. No one had died, merely property taken or destroyed and many frightened. But reports have been fragmented at best and wildly varied. We were uncertain whom to pursue, or how to accomplish the pursuit. But now King Eric seems resolved that it must indeed be Davy Jones. He and the Queen know of no other who could have whipped up such a sudden and powerful storm to swallow a ship in the blink of an eye. They are still debating how to rebuff future insurrections, but intend to answer his treachery. Take from that what you will.”

Emma had straightened in her seat as this last announcement was made. Her senses seemed to clear as she heard her mother thank their visitor this time with benevolent grace and ask him to assure his Queen that she would contact her soon, even as her capable hands prepared bread and cheese with some cakes for him to take before he did at last leave on his return journey. The princess’ will was somehow galvanized once more by the idea of Davy Jones’ scurrilous role in their ship being wrecked. It gave her something to cling to, right or wrong, in the knowledge that perhaps her love was not lost as the rest must believe. All who did believe Davy Jones and his cursed crew and ship existed, knew that they prowled the sea, taking ships and sailors as plunder, indenturing them to sail as additional ill-fated hands on his Flying Dutchman. Though it was horrific to contemplate, and she shuddered imagining Killian once more trapped and forced into servitude as he had been before they met, she drew some resolve from the knowledge that if he still existed somewhere, he could be found and rescued. She would not rest until she found a way.

~~***~~

As he continued to move through the dense vegetation, Killian was surprised at his own relatively calm thinking after all which had occurred, but he simply knew he had no choice but to keep his senses about him. True, his first instinct upon waking had been to scream and rail at the gods of sea and sky, shed tears for his lost comrades and lie down on the sand in defeat. Part of him still wanted to take off swimming frantically in hopes of reaching land, but going blindly without knowledge if there were any to reach was a futile fool’s errand. He must focus on what he could do if he were to survive.

If he explored the entire expanse of this seemingly uninhabited island, and found no lake or stream, he could try to boil the most of the salt from the ocean water over his firepit - but it would be a painstaking and continuous chore if it could be avoided. And so doggedly Killian moved toward the center of the island, further and further into the trees. He could only hope he wasn’t traveling further from the safety he had been provided so far, but he would not survive long in the heat and the elements without a potable water source. It was one of the first points of wilderness survival he had been taught in the case of shipwreck, marooning or capture. There was always the danger of unknown wildlife, injury on unfamiliar terrain, or becoming lost, but his sense of direction had always been admirable - it was one of the first things which had won him praise from commanding naval officers - and he really had no other recourse.

Soon he was blazing a trail through the low-hanging vines and branches, doing his best to slice brambles and brush from the way before him and create a path. If he did indeed find some freshwater pool or stream, he would want to have a clear way back and forth between it and his rough campsite. Killian was holding out hope that there must be something of the sort because there was such a wealth of greenery and growth; it had to be supported somehow.

The heat seemed to climb higher with every step; the humidity wrapping around him and seeping down his throat with a stifling heaviness, but Killian pressed on. He was in excellent health and fitness - his naval training had seen to that - but he still came to feel as though he had been plodding through this relative jungle for hours, his arms and feet burning and feeling heavier with every step, his light, loose shirt clinging to his torso with the sweat that ran over his skin, stinging in his eyes and the numerous cuts and scrapes he bore from the wreck.

He had just promised himself he would sit to catch his breath soon, when he broke through an especially dense stand of trees and scrub brush to hear the sound of rushing water and glimpse the light of sun off a liquid surface just ahead. Hurrying forward once more, rejuvenated in his excitement and relief, Killian broke through the canopy to find a pool fed by a small waterfall in an open clearing.

Thankful for the blessing in his stranded situation, Killian left the trees and rushed to the edge of the pool to throw himself on the ground and plunge his hands into the clear, calm water. Breathtakingly cold and bracing, Killian reveled in its refreshment, splashing it onto his face, his hair, the back of his neck before cupping his hands together to bring the water to his lips and drink greedily - one, two, and three times.

Lying prone on the bank for a minute when he finished drinking, trying to cool off slightly and catch his breath, Killian closed his eyes, thanking God that he did find the fresh water he needed to press on. Now that he wasn’t moving, hacking and fighting through the dense growth, he could take a moment to feel the worry abate slightly and gather his resolve once again. For the moment, he at least had the jug on his belt to take some water back to his shelter, but he would search the beach again upon his return for any washed up wreckage, hopefully to yield him some larger bowl or pot, some container to hold more water from a trip to this clearing. He hated to be away from the shore for too long, knowing he also needed to start some sort of signal fire which could be seen by any passing ships out at sea, and he did not wish to miss any rescue vessel which might be sent to look for his ship and fellow sailors. Certainly he didn’t overvalue himself, but he did regret the knowledge that his princess would be worried for him. She had almost undoubtably already sent him messages he had not received, and she would be at a loss for why he had failed to respond.

Still, he would count himself grateful for this moment’s success and do what he could to find his way back to her. Rising to his knees, he pulled out his water skein and uncapped it to dip into the water and fill. As the lip of the bottle broke the surface, however, Killian felt a current run through his limbs, intense, but not unpleasant, instead calming and strangely peaceful. Looking over his shoulder and to both sides, he took stock of the forest he had left and the clearing all around him, but all remained as quiet and undisturbed as before.

Forcing himself not to succumb to flights of fantasy, Killian returned to his task with an inner admonishment against imagining things. Yet again, as soon as his fingers dipped into the water, he had the same enveloping impression that he was no longer alone, that a presence he had encountered before was somehow nearby. Out in the center of the pool, almost at the foot of the gentle waterfall, ripples began to spread in ever-widening circles, drawing always closer to the bank where he crouched warily.

It was then he picked up another sound, one that did not fit in with running water, rustling breezes, birdcall and the buzz of hovering insects. Once more, as it had the previous night when he’d nearly drowned, it sounded as though someone were singing. No one was around, and as before, common sense chided that it must be in his head, but the voice was so beautiful, so full of almost supernatural comfort, that it could not be ignored.

As he continued to watch the ripples widen, the pool’s surface was broken in their midst, some six or seven feet from him. Slowly, with liquid grace a head broke the water, followed by the shoulders, torso, and eventually the full form of an inexplicably familiar woman, who emerged from the depths fully and seemingly walked upon the water to stand before him with affectionate, beguiling smile.

Though anyone else observing the scene would have been struck immediately by the resemblance this lovely creature bore to Killian himself, the young lieutenant was a bit too stunned to recognize the uncanny similarities. She was slim and poised, dark hair the same shade as his streamed down her back to nearly reach her hips, and unique pointed tips to her ears also resembled Killian’s that Emma had so often tweaked and playfully joked about him being half an elf. Perhaps most remarkable of all though were her deep, oceanic blue eyes, framed with long, dark lashes, drinking him in as if Killian were every bit as awe-inducing to her as she was to him. Those eyes so like his own, made Killian swallow hard at how much the color and shape and the warmth of emotion in them as they studied him reminded him viscerally of Liam.

What sorcery was this? Who was this being? And how did she come to be here? Why was she here before him? So much was invading his mind at once that it took Killian several more beats to realize that her lips were moving, and only when they stopped did the song he had heard cease. She was the one singing the night before, the notes in his ear as he had been plucked from the murderous waves.

“You,” he breathed, blinking rapidly as he again found his voice. “You saved me. Why? And who… who are you?”

The look on that ethereal face turned unbearably sad. Her musical voice whispered brokenly, “Oh, my dear, I had feared you would forget. Don’t you know me, Killian? … I’m your mother.”

Tagging some shipmates who have enjoyed before: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @capswantrue @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @captainkillianswanjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @lfh1226-linda @tornadoamy @bubblegum1425 @hookswan25 @gingerchangeling @courtorderedcake @jarienn972 @nikkiemms @thisonesatellite @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @stahlop @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @laschatzi @kday426 @ilovemesomekillianjones

#cssns20 #cs ff #cs au mc #Lieutenant Duckling AU #with a supernatural twist #Enchanted Forest AU #A Cottage by the Sea #Part Two

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sorathemasterofmasters · 4 years ago

Note

If you could say one thing to your friends after all these years, what would it be?

How bold of you to assume he was only going to say one thing.

The following related excerpt is from the Master Reports Fic which I think I’ll just post bits and pieces that apply to Kingstagram posts.

“So he was recently in Daybreak Town Clocktower, we know that at least, where else could he go?” Asked Riku aloud as the group ascended the stairs of Yen Sid’s Tower. “The guy is thousands of years old he could be anywhere, he's probably on the other end of the galaxy sipping mojitos on a tropical island and laughing at us” Lea snarked as he opened the door to Yen Sid’s office. "Or I could be right where fate dictates I should be." The voice came suddenly out of nowhere, lounged carelessly on Yen Sid’s own seat idly flipping through an old book with his black booted feet propped nonchalantly on the desk. The Master of Masters familiar spiky brown hair peeking out of the hood, grinned shamelessly one eye closed over an empty socket the right eye blue slit and gazing over the group in amusement. Lea lunged forward before he could think keyblade drawn, yet the Master of Masters merely rolled his remain eye and sighed disappointedly “Haa, attacking me with the keyblade I forged? Sooo stupid.” “What!” Lea exclaimed as his keyblade dispelled mid-strike into sparkles then grunted as he was slammed backward into the wall with stunning force by an invisible wave. Powerful magic bore down on everyone in the room preventing any movement. “Now now” Sora- no- the Master of Masters, tutted with a sunny smile in a condescending tone momentarily taking his single eye off the page he was reading. "I'll get to you in a moment" he went back to reading one of Yen Sid’s books Riku noted, totally disregarding their presence as if they weren't a threat, how strong was this version of Sora? The Master of Masters sighed tiredly evidently having found what he was looking for. Nonchalantly taking his feet off the desk and placing the book open on the table before him, his single blue slit eye trailed over the group. "I'll admit, I hadn't intended for us to meet quite like this, but I suppose sentiment was stronger than destiny in this case." “Sora?” Riku breathed shock at seeing this older version of his friend in the flesh pinning him in place and at a complete loss as to what to say. Ventus on the other hand had plenty to say or rather shout “Why are you acting like this?!” For a moment the Master of Masters looked puzzled “Like what, Oh Wait! Are you talking about all those Kingstagram Entries I forgot to delete?” The Master of Masters coughed, embarrassed and scratched the back of his head in a familiar Sora-esque mannerism “Yeah.. my bad. I’ve been using it as a diary for the last few thousand years as you know by now. Forgetting to turn off its network capabilities is probably the first mistake I’ve made in hundreds of years, to be honest!” The older Sora’s laughter was almost the same his voice different, almost manic. Riku spoke up cautiously looking with his eyes and his heart for any trace of his friend “Do you hold a grudge against us or something? We didn't know we were hurting you Sora. And once we did we’ve been trying to fix things-” The Master of Masters waved Riku off with a gesture mid apology “I know, and it's nice and all but this really has nothing to do with that or you, In fact, if I hadn't messed up then we’d have never met and I could have spared you the heartache I know you’re feeling” The expression on the Master of Master's face was inscrutable his thoughts hidden in that instance. Mickey wasn't so sure though and in his heart doubted this version of Sora had let go of something so fundamental “Surely something remains in your heart!” The Master of Master's gaze rested on Mickey a reassuring smile out of place on this version of their friend inadvertently sending shivers down the spines of Guardians of Light. “Oh Mickey, I have nothing but respect for you, unfortunately those bound by fate must follow it regardless of personal feelings. So how is the other me? Actually happy? Less suicidal ideation disguised as self-sacrifice?” The Master of Masters nodded to himself “I can see it in your expressions, that's good I suppose his death is no longer necessary so we can skip that bit of teenage drama” The Master of Masters tilted his head childishly examining the group in front of him “well I can't say I don't like this change to the Guardian of Light roster!” The Master of Master's gaze trailed over the group.

“Kairi, The only Princess of Heart capable of wielding a keyblade.

Riku, Wielder of both Light and Darkness in equal measure.

Ventus formerly of Aced’s Ursa Union the least bloodthirsty one in fact, the one I hand-picked to help Ephemer lead the Dandelions exodus to escape the shattering of the Realm of Light and ensure the Keyblade wielders did not go extinct.

King Mickey Mouse, Wielder of the Kingdom Key D that I dropped in the Realm of Darkness during my escape from the shattering.

Aqua, left to languish in the Realm of Darkness for ten years, an amazing feat of survival.

The absent wielders, Roxas, the Nobody that developed his own heart out of sheer stubbornness.

Xion, a replica puppet that also developed her own heart by the strength of her own memories and the bonds she herself formed.

Lauriam the wielder who’s actions alerted me to the intruder in the Dandelions Sanctuary, slain by Maleficent as she inadvertently damaged the dataworld and forced them to evacuate before the worlds were safe to traverse.

Elrena, perished in the evacuation but possessing such a strong heart that she re-manifested in real world. My younger self who can connect with hearts on a level unheard of in recorded history.”

The Master of Masters paused his eye resting contemplatively on Lea “..and then there's you” a brief silence engulfed the room. “Honestly” The Master of Masters sighed “bequeathing, a last resort for when none are worthy of the actual honor.” “You take that back” Lea growled the other Guardians also raising their hackles at the Master of Masters insinuation. “Hmmm? No I don't think I will.” The Master of Masters spoke measuredly and shrugged “I designed every keyblade to exist, they were made to be very choosy when it comes to their wielders, not be passed down to the unworthy like trinkets on a whim.” the word trinkets spat like an expletive full of scorn enough to make the room flinch. “Where's Master Yen Sid?” asked Mickey warily keeping an eye on the intimidating Lost Master before them. The Master of Masters tilted his head as if confused “Hmm? Oh that old coot? He's around.” The Master gave a half-hearted gesture with an off-hand a grin slowly creeping along his face “I had a lot of fun stripping him of his mastery through” The Master of Masters grinned like a cat and Mickey yelped as his own hastily summoned Keyblade vanished against his will in a blaze of light. The Master of Masters tutted once again waggling a finger. “Come on now, You seriously didn't think The Master of Master title was an empty one did you? Right now? None of you are a match for me as you are, you can't even stand without shaking!” The shaking, a sign of the group trying to escape their confinement and failing miserably. “What do you want?” shouted Riku irritated beyond belief despite himself, the Master of Masters smiled oddly for a second then gave a barking laugh taking them all aback wiping an imaginary tear from his eye “I’ll admit I honestly forgot you had such an angry base expression. Well, what I want? I want a lot of things, some transitory and some more permanent. All things I can get without your input, permission or interference. I mean I could put you down for the duration, but, where would be the fun in that?” The group flinched as the Master of Masters sunny tone and how at odds it was with the very real dark threat in his gaze. “So anyway...” The Master of Masters snapped his fingers once causing everyone in the room to stagger still paralyzed under his magical might as a strange sensation tingled throughout their bodies. “I'll settle for delaying you a little bit” “What did you do to us?!” grunted Ven peculiar weakness running through his limbs. “Hmm, oh nothing that hasn't been done before to one of your numbers, you’re going to have to earn those Keyblade’s this time just like he did, just like I did. I'll even throw in a power boost if you do it the right way. Won't that surprise the Norts?” The Master of Masters laughed at their furious gazes. “Are you on his side?” Asked Kairi warily. The Master of Masters snorted “Xehanort? Not in this life or any other and don't worry he won't come after you for a long while yet, which should give you plenty of time to get stronger.” The Master of Masters perked up abruptly, whiplashing between moods fast enough to give the group a headache “Soooo.. anyway if you want to retrieve those keyblades of yours then you should probably find those replacement Darknesses Xehanort was harping on and on and on about.” “Why are you helping us!” demanded Aqua “I doubt it's from the goodness of your heart.” The Master of Masters chuckled “Nope, You’d be right there but you see, cornered rats can cause a lot of damage and Xehanort? He’s just lost how many of his Darknesses now?” That made the group pause as the Master of Masters continued to point out something they hadn't considered yet “He'll be anxious to replace them and Xehanort never functioned well when it comes to improvisation. He might inadvertently cause a lot of damage to the worlds and I do kinda need them more or less intact” The Master of Masters shrugged considering and amending his statement ominously “Well, the people at least.” The Master of Masters got up from Yen Sid’s seat and stretched walking past the paralyzed group before pausing snapping the air as though in realization "By the way that book on the desk? Your gonna want to read it before Yen Sid gets back, just saying." With that parting bit of advice, the Master of Masters darted leisurely out the door. It was five minutes before the lingering power of the Master of Masters dissipated enough for anyone to move, signaling his exit from the world. Silence reigned in the tower for a long time after that.

This little bit of MoM!Sora insanity came to me in the middle of the night in a dream, I think I got MoM!Sora’s character about right and I now think the best strategy for writing this lovable lunatic is to throw a dart at a D&D alignment chart and write him like that for that chapter. ... Is it working? I think its working. Also sorry about any bad spelling or grammar.

Anyway, everyone else not present at The Mysterious Tower panicked at the new Kingstagram post but couldn't do anything as MoM!Sora posted it after this confrontation.

This Post is also in part a answer to another post that asked for a star wars style confrontation, Unfortunately that post went missing due to Tumblr UI being the burning glitch of a trashfire baby we all know and loathe. So, Sorry whoever asked that.

#AskMoM!Sora #MoM!Sora #Sora As the Master of Masters #sora!master of masters #master of masters #TheMasterReportsAU #sora kh #kingdom hearts

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carry-on-snowbazzing · 4 years ago

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My 5 best of 2020 (in 2021 😂)

1. A summer day ☀

"Well, Baz! Do you want to move?" Penelope yelled, already in the car (a certain MG dated 1967).

Simon studied his own reflection in the rearview mirror, running a hand through his bronze curly tuft and resulting in even more messiness.

"A minute!" was the answer from a few floors above the apartment.

Penelope rolled her eyes and picked up her Iphone.

Shortly after, hurried footsteps were heard coming down the stairs and Baz, after closing the door, got into the car.

Simon leaned out of the back seat and kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled and, starting the engine, exclaimed:

"Destination: fun!"

Later there were four of them getting out of the car: Baz with a beach umbrella over his shoulder, Simon struggling with a giant inflatable pink flamingo, Penelope with a cooler bag, and Agatha with another bag, containing beach towels and sunscreen.

"The weather forecasts were right; today’s a perfect day for the sea," Penelope commented as she slipped off her flip-flops and dropped her bag into the sand.

"Edward shines like a fairy!" Simon yelled, putting on a pair of sunglasses and pointing to Baz.

"Stop it, Snow," he laughed, "and give me my glasses back; all this sunshine stuns me."

Trying to ignore them, Agatha took off her cover-up and began to rub off the protection angrily.

"Whoever dives himself last is a pixie!" Simon yelled, throwing his t-shirt and starting to run towards the sea with Penelope at his heels.

Several splashes and laughter later, the two returned wet, smiling and hungry.

Meanwhile, Baz and Agatha had dedicated themselves to crossword puzzles and to the horoscope.

"Agatha, there must be some butter and turkey sandwiches in the cooler," Penelope said as she wrapped herself in her towel.

"I couldn't find anything better for you than beef carpaccio," she said to Baz.

He smiled making 'OK' with both thumbs.

"And for me?" Agatha asked, offended that her friend hadn't thought of her too.

"Fruit salad" she replied. "I know you're on a vegetarian diet."

Agatha blushed feeling a little guilty and muttered something like "Oh, thank you".

Everyone literally devoured their lunch, because, as Simon ruled on his fifth butter sandwich, "The sea makes you hungry."

They gossiped a bit about their old classmates, wondering if Gareth still had his belt buckle as a wand and if Trixie had a fight with his girlfriend.

They lost track of time after falling asleep in the early afternoon sun.

It was the sound of a notification that woke Agatha, who, after seeing her mother's message ('Where are you? Coven party tonight!'), made a shrill sound that woke the others too.

"Damn, I'm in mega-delay!" she complained, sitting up and hastily gathering his things.

Seeing her so agitated, no one dared contradict her and they hurried too.

Before leaving for the return, all already in the car, Simon took out a Polaroid from the trunk (not an easy feat, given the bulky mass of the flamingo) and urged them:

"Wait! Say 'cheese'!"

Everyone posed, waiting for the flash.

Once the picture was taken, Simon reached for the film that had just come out of the instant camera, but found himself clutching a slice of Emmental in his fingers.

Baz couldn't help himself and laughed uncontrollably.

"Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch!" Simon bursted, but he couldn't bear a grudge and joined in the general laughter.

___________________________________________________

2. Shopping (Big & Little) 🥄

"They'll be emptying the mall, those two" Agatha commented, looking at the clock on the kitchen wall and adding another egg to the bowl.

"Probably" replied Penelope, who was handling the curry risotto.

"They've been away for three hours!" Agatha insisted, "and with two credit cards!".

Penelope gave her a look like 'what can we do?' and again consulted the handwritten note attached to the refrigerator with a magnet (shaped like a scone).

"Oh, I forgot the onion!" she moaned after a quick glance, "my mother would kill me if she knew!".

She went back to the stove and for a few minutes they remained silent, one intent on vigorously banging the whips, the other busy slicing the bulb.

Once Agatha had baked the chocolate cake (wiping a non-existent sweat with her glove) and Penelope had remedied her mistake, the girls dropped onto the sofa.

They were just debating which movie to watch that night when they heard the key turn in the lock and Simon exclaim from the entrance:

"We’re at home!"

The two joined them in the living room and Baz asked:

"Curry and chocolate?"

Penelope nodded.

"Sometimes I wish I was a vampire; just smell a dish to understand if the doses are right or wrong," she sighed.

"Shopping?" Agatha asked, looking at the numerous envelopes they both had in their hands and casting a reproachful look at Simon.

"There were the sales" he tried to justify himself, shrugging his shoulders.

"Hurry up; you’ll show us your spoils of war after dinner" Penelope ordered.

"What do you think?" Simon began, smugly showing a set of jeans for Baz and a giant jar of sour cherries scones.

Penelope seemed to try not to roll her eyes.

"I stayed on the intellectual side" Baz said, pulling a stack of books and a pack of pastel highlighters out of a bag.

"I need them for the college" he explained to Agatha, who was trying to get hold of the markers.

"And you haven't seen the piece of resistence!" Simon shrieked, grabbing a smiling Baz by the wrist and dragging him into the nearest room.

They came out moments later walking backwards (in what was supposed to be an imitation of Michael Jackson's moonwalk), so they could only see their backs.

"3, 2, 1 ..." Baz counted.

"Ta daaaan!" Simon exclaimed as they turned at the same time.

They wore matching gray sweatshirts; both had a black molded spoon.

'Big' was written on Baz's, while Simon's 'Little'.

"Awww" the girls screamed in unison, in the grip of a fangirl attack (which managed to make Agatha look adoring too).

"We have a pair for you too" Baz said, handing Penelope a black t-shirt with 'Brownie' on it, while Simon gave Agatha a white one with 'Blondie' on it.

"Thanks, guys" Penelope murmured moved and Agatha initiated a group hug.

photos references

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3. Anniversary 💞

here

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4. Ops! 🧴

Simon knocked for the tenth time on the bathroom door:

"Occupied!" Baz yelled for the tenth time.

"And sorry, but I can't hold it anymore anymore ..."

Simon abruptly released the handle, abandoning his irritated tone.

He let out a cry, muffled by the hands that he immediately brought to his mouth.

Baz was shirtless in front of the mirror, glaring at his own reflection.

Everything was perfectly normal, except for his hair: it had turned from raven to red.

Fawn red.

"If you tell anyone about this, Snow, I will end you" he growled menacingly.

Simon stood there, speechless. When he had regained the use of his mouth, he barely stifled a laugh and intoned:

“Weasley is our king

he always lets the Quaffle in ... "

From Baz's look, he knew it would be wiser to stop, so he did it.

He approached cautiously and asked gently:

"What happened to you?".

"I wish I knew; I was taking a normal shampoo shower" sighed Baz.

Meanwhile Simon had reached the sink and was looking closely at the bottle of the citron and bergamot scented blend.

"It doesn't seem to have anything strange" he then ruled, placing it back on the shelf.

"Indeed; I went to get it from my home in Hampshire; Daphne can only find it in our town's herbalist's shop," Baz replied sadly.

"I really can't explain it" he went on, unable to get over it.

"My sister gave it to me ..." he stopped suddenly.

He clapped her forehead and turned on the lock screen of his smartphone.

"Today is April 1st," he murmured.

He took the vial in one hand and, with the ivory wand in the other, exclaimed:

"Show me your secrets!".

The writing on the label changed from 'Shampoo with citrus notes' to 'Permanent color intense red'.

"MORDELIAAAAA!" he screamed as Simon rolled with laughter.

"April Fool!" he managed to exclaim between a laugh and another.

That’s totally inspired by a fanart of @vkelleyart 💖 : that

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5. Trick or treat? 👻

"Well, Baz! If you don't move, we'll only have the sub-brand candy left!" Simon railed.

With all the peace of mind he could, Baz went down the stairs and joined his screaming boyfriend, who was immediately silent at his sight.

"Morgana, Basilton; you really mean it" Penelope commented, watching him as she lit another candle to put in the Jack o 'lanterns carved by Simon and Baz (which occupied all the flat surfaces of the apartment).

"I've been doing some accurate researches over the last week" he began, making a theatrical gesture in his vampire cloak.

"You even have the same jacket as Gary Oldman" she observed excitedly.

He, in response, gave her a perfidious look, baring his fangs.

Simon was still in his silence and couldn't take his eyes off him.

"What's up Snow, the cat got your tongue?" Baz asked, amused.

He answered with a tongue sticking out and approached him with a raised eyebrow (in perfect Baz style).

"Wow" he commented after kissing him on the cheek.

"Enjoy yourselves!" Penelope exclaimed as they came out hand in hand.

"Where do we go now?" Baz asked.

Simon moved with great ease between one bell and another, meticulously illustrating the specialties offered by each house.

His phrases were: "Here you can always find top quality stuff", or "No, better to avoid an indigestion".

After scouring all the houses on the first five blocks, Simon had an epiphany.

"For a thousand snakes! Baz, we absolutely have to go to the 'Spooky night' party!" he screamed, making him jump.

"Crowley, Snow! Calm down!" he retorted irritably, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

"You don't understand," Simon insisted.

"Our loot is loser when compared to everything you can find there; Strawberry Blood Drip, Every Flavour Beans, Pumpkin PIE, Butterbeer and, hold on ... Oreo with Orange Cream!"

Baz, seeing him so excited ('like a child', he thought), couldn’t say no to him (although he wanted to go home more than anything else; his feet protested against Count Dracula's boots).

"And where would it be?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"A couple of blocks from here; hurry up!" Simon urged him, taking him by the hand and starting to run.

"A delusion!" Simon snapped, leaving the bag full of sweets on the doormat.

"What happened?" Penelope asked Baz, who had just closed the door behind him and limped desperately as he headed for the sofa.

"In short at that damn party they had finished everything and told us our costumes sucked" he explained.

Simon was with his arms folded, all sulking, sitting in the armchair.

"Look at their costumes! And let me have something to eat, rather!" he barked.

Penelope approached him and, looking at him tenderly, reassured him:

"We always have our repertoire of horror films."

Simon shrugged, hitting the nearby lamp.

"And I was prepared for any eventuality," she went on, snapping her fingers and popping up a pack of Oreos with orange cream.

Simon's face cleared, illuminated by a huge grin.

__________________________________________________

Ty @letraspal for tagging me 💕

That’s all; hope u like it! 💜

Happy new Year! ✨

#snowbaz #sorry cuz i'm late #my 5 best of 2020 #hope u enjoy

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wearesorcerer · 4 years ago

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[5e] 9th-Level Spells

You may be wondering why I’m starting my review of 5e spells with the highest level spells available. That’s simple: you only get one.

The 5e Sorcerer table isn’t quite like the 3.x one, but it is like the 3.5 Warlock and Psion: at any given level, you can known X spells and have Y spell level as your maximum. The table is elegant, but you have to know to level your character from first level rather than reading the table straight across if you’re making a higher level character. (I’ve made this mistake many a time. It’s why I dislike this sort of table: it looks nice but isn’t actually helpful.)

If you’re trying to have as many spells of the highest available spell level as possible, you would have from 0th to 9th 6/3/2/2/2/2/1/1/1/1. I find it easier to work backwards in this case, as you can say “I want to reserve X spells known for higher-level spells” and then figure out how many low-level ones you can have instead of getting to a higher level and running into a corner.

The question with 9th-level spells is not “what’s good?” because they’re all good. Rather, it’s “what’s worth taking as my single most powerful class feature?” That should narrow things down a lot.

Primary List

gate · mass polymorph · meteor swarm · power word kill · psychic scream · time stop · wish

I’ve written about wish and time stop ZA WARUDO! (time crunchy noises), but not in the context of 5e. Wish has changed substantially; time stop hasn’t. You have a few options, but the majority of them are boom-boom.

Gate: you can hold open an interplanar portal for as long as you concentrate (up to a minute) at the cost of a 5,000 gp diamond; if you know the name of a specific creature, you can use the spell to summon that creature. For some odd reason, gate is both the most Warlock spell in the game besides planar binding, yet is only a Warlock spell through a UA variant. For a Sorcerer, this could be useful, but you’re making your best spell cost you money every time you cast it. Strategically speaking, this spell is situational enough (read: a Wizard spell) that if you wanted it in the first place you should take it with the Ritual Caster feat, but for some reason this most obviously ritualistic spell isn’t a ritual. There are better uses for your spell known, but this is by no means a bad spell. Save for a scroll or something.

Mass Polymorph: you polymorph (Wis negates) up to ten creatures you can see within 120 ft. for as long as you concentrate (up to one hour), just like with polymorph. It incorporates animal shapes into it. If you want animal shapes, you should find a way of getting it instead: you don’t need a 9th-level spell slot for it (so can cast it more often -- 8th + 9th level spell slots), it lasts for 24 hours, and you can affect more creatures (30 ft. area = radius = 96 squares - the one you’re in = 95 Medium creatures [more if they’re smaller and squeezing together]). I don’t care for the concentration aspect of the 5e polymorph spells. I mean, I get the rationale, I just find it odd for this particular spell -- and I’d rather not give my opponent a tactical reason to target me. Pass.

Meteor Swarm: four fireballs fall from the sky and each deal 20d6 fire + 20d6 bludgeoning (Dex half; average 140 damage), setting everything they touch ablaze. Beautiful. I love meteor-style spells, so this is high on my list even though it’s a boom-boom spell and I’m not particularly boom-boom oriented. The best part of this is that it has a range of one mile, so you can destroy enemy armies without risking getting killed! Yay! Yes.

Power Word Kill: one creature within 60 ft. of 100 HP or less drops dead (no save). 100 HP is more than the average of many high-level characters, so unless the DM gave a boss max HP you can use this to kill even major opponents reliably. An optimizer will tell you that a spell without a save is something you should always take -- and would be correct insofar as it makes you more difficult to stop. I, however, dislike that mechanic: there’s almost no reason a spell shouldn’t have a save. This one should have the choice of Wis (resisting the mental influence) and Con (staying alive despite the heart attack/stroke/whatever). A very good spell, but I’d call it OP.

Psychic Scream: 10 creatures of Int 3+ within 90 ft. take 14d6 psychic damage and are stunned (Int half [damage]/negates [stunning]); their heads explode if they die. The beauty of this one is that it goes off of Int rather than Wis (meaning Wizards are the only targets you really need to worry about) and it automatically avoids friendly fire. Yes.

Time Stop ZA WARUDO!: you get 1d4 + 1 rounds to act, but the spell ends if anything you do (including effects you create) affect other creatures or objects someone else is wearing or carrying or you move more than 1,000 ft. from where you cast the spell. The main purpose of this spell is to buff yourself a lot, run the fuck away, or stack delayed blast fireballs to deal a buttload of damage. That’s all very nice, but it’s a continuation of the 3.0 nerf to the spell: in 2nd ed, you could pull a DIO and attack people or an Over the Hedge and steal things. Now for my main quibble. 3.5′s Player’s Handbook II had the celerity line of spells, which you could cast as an immediate action (choice of reaction or bonus action). Each one dazed (incapacitated) you afterward, but gave you an extra move (lesser), action (no prefix), or round (greater) to do with as you pleased. I’m willing to guess that there are similar spells in 5e. In 3.5, there were ways of becoming immune to dazing; maybe there’s a 5e-compatible build for that. Either way, as a 9th-level spell, I should get to throw knives at people to my heart’s content before dropping heavy objects (like steam road rollers) on them. Good, but I’m going to go to my grave complaining about the restrictions.

Wish: you can do practically anything, but you have a one in three chance of losing your ability to cast your highest-level spell. IT’S A TRAP!

For very personal reasons, I’m torn between meteor swarm and time stop, but psychic scream is also up there. I think power word kill is unfair, but I cannot say that it’s a bad spell. I don’t like mass polymorph, but I think that’s more me not liking how 5e deals with durations. Wish is too big of a risk for a Sorcerer: you have the chance of losing the most powerful class feature you get and have nothing else that can compensate for that loss (unlike a Wizard); it’s better as a scroll. Gate really should be a ritual, but it isn’t, and it’s expensive, so it really depends on how badly you need to move lots and lots of creatures or summon forth an Elder God.

Divine Soul (Cleric) List

astral projection · gate · mass heal · true resurrection

I’ve already covered gate, thankfully.

Astral Projection: exactly what it says on the tin for you and eight willing creatures. I have never understood why this spell is so high-level. Mechanically, it’s riskier and more expensive than casting plane shift, which is two levels lower. Thematically, it’s a mass version of an effect which in folklore is almost always caster-only, which makes no sense, and it’s at max-level when this is fairly standard practice for shaman and shaman-like figures. (Heck, that’s what a bunch of the associated drug culture is about!) Maybe someone can explain to me why you would want to use this spell. Pass.

Mass Heal: heal 700 HP divided as you choose among any number of creatures (except constructs and undead) you can see within 60 ft.; also cures them of all diseases, blindness, and deafness. On the one hand, this seems like a great spell with a raid or during a cataclysm. On the other, you can accomplish everything this does with lower-level spells. Pretty good, but maybe hold out for...

True Resurrection: a creature you touch (or whose name you speak) is restored to life and perfect health (no wounds, no missing limbs, cured of all diseases and poisons, freed from any curses), even if there are no remains, provided the creature has been dead for no longer than 200 years and is free/willing to return. PICK THIS ONE!

Variant List (UA)

Foresight: for eight hours, a creature you touch can’t be surprised, gets advantage on most d20 checks, and causes all creatures attacking it to roll with disadvantage. This is better than the 3.5 version, which was already very good. Yes, this. Very.

Really Cool Spells It’d Be Great to Take If You Could

Or me lamenting about the limitations of the Sorcerer list

imprisonment · invulnerability · power word heal · prismatic wall · ravenous void · shapechange · storm of vengeance · time ravage · true polymorph · weird

Imprisonment: you know any of those fairy tale/folklore/mythology spells that trap someone for, like, ever? This is it. (Combines the spell of the same name, maze, and binding from 3.5.) You’ve got options if you want to seal someone away -- and it lasts until you say otherwise. Sure, it’d be nice if it were a ritual, but it ain’t; you just gotta take a minute to cast it (and throw in 500 gp. of material per HD of the target).

Invulnerability: you are immune to damage for up to 10 minutes (at the cost of “a piece of adamantine” [in D&D, that’s closer to depleted uranium than it is to diamond] of 500+ gp.). Maybe you don’t like the cost for a spell of that level, but hey, invulnerability.

Power Word Heal: target (non-construct, non-undead) regains all HP; has the charmed, frightened, paralyzed, and stunned conditions removed; and can stand up as a reaction if prone. This is a Bard spell, but it’s on the Cleric and Druid variant lists, so probably is an option for Divine Souls. I can see it being handy, but you’d think mass heal would be a better choice.

Prismatic Wall: you conjure up a rainbow wall/sphere (as prismatic spray) that’s a bitch to get rid of. You want an abjuration? This is it.

Ravenous Void: a miniature black hole that needs some errata (how many spaces do creatures and objects getting sucked in move each round?). It’s ludicrously awesome, though.

Shapechange: other than true polymorph, this is what you want out of polymorphing magic.

Storm of Vengeance: let’s say you want all of the boom-boom of meteor swarm but are more meteorologically focused. Here’s your answer. You end up dealing an average of 49 damage (of three elemental types and bludgeoning) to each creature below a storm cloud (360 ft. radius) you conjure within sight. There’s an arbitrary distance beneath the cloud included, as it doesn’t say how far up the cloud has to be.

Time Ravage: you decrepify someone with timey-wimey magic -- but it’s somehow necromancy!

True Polymorph: you can transform almost anything into almost anything else. The limits on this spell are basically to keep you from thinking you’re a literal god and overall I’d think this would work better in a skill-based magic system, but nonetheless it’s quite clearly the best polymorphing spell in the game.

Weird: this is mass phantasmal killer. It’s directly comparable to psychic scream -- Illusion rather than Enchantment, fear rather than stunning, and more potential targets in a smaller burst instead of headsplosions.

#5e #spells

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

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Night Fever

Written for my In the Dark Challenge

I’m Gonna Make You Love Me by The Temptations/The Supremes “And I’m gonna use every trick in the book. I’ll try my best to get you hooked.”

“I’m just getting started.”

Warnings: non/dubcon sex, sex pollen.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You meet your crush’s new date but you’re not the only one lost in yearning.

—

You usually looked forward to Tony’s parties. They were a small respite from the usual grind. You never really had holidays or vacations as an intelligence specialist so those hours of glee were the next best occasion. You’d get dressed up, do your make-up, and fantasize about the spread of hors d’oevres to be offered.

Oh and speaking of fantasies…

Steve Rogers had just arrived. The core of many nocturnal whimsies. You couldn’t say when the crush had implanted itself within you. Had it been when you had spilled coffee on yourself and he had laughed and helped you clean it up, lightly brushing close to your chest with a napkin? Or when he had offered to carry a crate of documents to the archives for you? You really couldn’t say but you knew it was best to keep such infatuation apart from the workplace.

That didn’t ease the sting as he walked in the hall with another on his arm. There had been rumours in the office but you had chalked it up to Sam’s incessant need to talk shit. You hadn’t really believed it. Or maybe hadn’t wanted to. It was easier with her right in front of you; pale blonde hair, soft blue eyes, the figure of a ballerina. You hid your disappointment as you nodded at whatever Natasha had been talking about. The last you had understood a word it was her usual rant about her field gear.

Then he approached you, none so shy about the model at his side. You did your best to smile and remain poised. Why next to this woman, you must have seemed a possum in a skirt. Natasha took the initiative as she always did and you were saved from an awkward and delayed greeting.

“I was wondering if you were ever gonna remember us,” Nat teased, “So, who’s the lady?”

“Oh, well, you’re actually going to laugh at this,” He gave his pristine smile and you locked your knees as you tried not to melt into a puddle. “Um, Natasha,” He gestured to the woman known as the Black Widow before waving to his blonde escort, “This is Natasha.”

Natasha laughed. Loudly. Then offered her hand to the taller, skinnier blonde. You watched, awaiting and dreading your turn to feign acceptance. Enough. It’s just a crush. If anything this would help you get over it.

The new Natasha shook the old Natasha’s hand and then Steve turned to you. “And this the only original of the bunch, Y/N.” He introduced you, “She keeps our whole team from walking headfirst into trouble. Not that we don’t anyways.”

You gave your best fake laugh and shook Natasha’s hand in kind. A nice to meet you and your usual social courtesy. Nothing more.

As the three began to chatter as if it wasn’t all so awkward, you excused yourself to the bathroom and hid in there as you gathered your wits. Stop being a child. You should be happy for him. You sighed at yourself in the mirror and pushed away from the counter. You should get a drink.

You strode back out to the soiree and briskly swiped a champagne flute off a server’s tray. You retreated the wall furthest from Steve and sipped your elixir. This would help you forget about him and your foolish heart. God, you could be so stupid.

You were down to your last mouthful and tossed it back without grace. You covered your mouth as the bubbles threatened to escape and almost let out the hideous belch as a deep voice surprised you.

“I thought you liked these stupid things,” Bucky crossed his arms as he stepped up next to you, the fabric of his jacket strained across his shoulders.. You rarely saw him at these parties. Not that he didn’t attend, only that he made himself scarce.

“I’m tired,” You lied, “Bad timing I guess…been working.”

“Ah,” He replied rather unconvinced of your fib, “Too many strangers.”

“Mm-hmm,” You agreed as a server offered to take your empty glass.

“So you met her?” You glanced over at Bucky’s pointed question but didn’t need to ask who he meant.

“She’s nice,” You looked back to the room of tuxedos and gowns, “Pretty.”

“Needy,” Bucky added, “You know I was with him when he met her. Our usual night out. Just us two. We go to a bar, a couple of drinks, shoot the shit…” He lowered his arms as he stepped closer, his eyes scanning the crowd as he spoke without looking at you. “She came over and introduced herself. Pretended not to know who he was.” He cleared his throat and chuckled darkly, “She’s not a very good actor but Steve’s a bit of a dupe with pretty dames.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say but he seemingly didn’t need encouragement. It was rare that the former Winter Soldier was so talkative. You could smell the whiskey as he stepped closer and his arm pressed to your shoulder.

“Barely see him outside missions these last two months. Whenever we are together, she’s calling him and he’s all too eager to run at her beck and call.” His voice dripped with irritation. “I’d tell him she’s been texting me too but I don’t think he’d believe me.”

You turned to him with wide eyes. Gossip at the lips of the last person you would expect it from. You were stunned as in your mind Natasha had been in the first chapter of her very own once upon a time. You shrugged and swallowed back your envious satisfaction.

“About what?” You wondered lightly.

“I don’t really pay much attention. Doesn’t say anything interesting.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll just wait for Steve to get his head out of his ass. I hate being the one to say ‘I told you so’.”

“You’re very valiant,” You scoffed. “Maybe a little bitter too.”

“And what about you?” He said. “Hiding along the wall and drinking…bitter?”

“No,” You answered a bit too quickly. “I don’t care about Steve that way.”

“Sure,” He commented nonchalantly. He let the silence thicken to tension as he eyed you and you tried to ignore him. He finally spoke again. “So what do you say I grab you something a bit stronger than champagne? We can mope together.”

“I’m not moping,” You insisted.

“Okay,” He grinned as he stepped away casually, “You like whiskey?” The question was rhetorical as he strutted to the bar and you huffed at his taunting back. How on earth did you get stuck in the corner with the resident pariah?

He returned, two tumblers in hand. He held one out to you and you stared at it a moment before accepting. You weren’t one too be unkind and he was being unusually so. You weren’t going to enjoy the rare moment with a tolerable Winter Soldier. You took the glass and raised it to your lips. It was strong.

“Jesus, did you get any mixer?” You crinkled your nose.

“Yes, but it’s a double,” He swigged without flinching from his own. “Come on. Maybe you’ll bust out some of your dance moves tonight. It makes these things a little less boring.”

“My dance moves?” You lifted a brow and lowered your glass. His eyes followed your hand before returning to your face.

“You’re usually the life of the party.” He mused.

“I am?” You tilted your head.

“Well, to me, at least,” He replied as he took another drink and you mustered up the courage to do the same. Your throat burned as you gulped the alcohol but there was an unexpected sweetness too. You sipped silently as you wondered at his cryptic remark. How often had he watched you at these parties?

“Why did you never join in?” You asked. “Dancing, I mean.”

“Not much of a dancer anymore. My moves haven’t aged well.” He chuckled.

“Ah,” You nodded and took another drink as you eyes washed over the room. “Afraid to throw out your hip, old man?”

“That too,” He joked and you smiled at the uncharacteristic humor in his tone.

Your lips quickly fell as you spotted Steve and his statuesque amour. You held back a sigh and drank some more. You’d need another glass if you were going to make it through the night.

—

You were just about finished your second whiskey thanks to Bucky. With alcohol in your veins and shared resent, you had spent well over an hour with the brooding super soldier. He wasn’t too bad to be around when he wasn’t staring cryptically into the distance.

Your cheeks were hot from the tipsiness setting in, though you could say it was closer to drunkenness. You fanned yourself as the sweat began to build on your forehead and along your neck.

“You okay?” Bucky asked as you glanced around. You brushed past him and set your empty glass on a tall table. “Y/N?”

You turned back to him. He smirked as he reached past you and set his glass down besides yours. He was unbearably close. The flames licked down your arms and legs. It was unnatural. You had never felt like this. It was like a panic attack but instead of feeling like your chest was filled with rocks, your pussy was alight.

“I gotta-” You choked as you tried to step past him, “I gotta go.”

You pushed past him and the feel of his body against you made you whimper. You clattered on your heels through the crowd and toward the door. You tripped on the skirt of another woman and reached out to catch yourself. A hand closed around your forearm and swung you around swiftly.

“Leaving so soon?” Steve asked as he clung to you. His touch was molten against your skin.

“I–I–” If he didn’t let go you were going to climb him like a spider monkey. Your entire being told you to devour him. You pulled away and panted. “Yeah, I…I forgot I left my stove on.”

You ran out at the flimsy excuse and darted down the hallway. You were jittery, frantic, as the unexplained and overwhelming need overtook you. What was going on? Your head was spinning as you slid to a stop. You hadn’t even been paying attention to where you were going.

You swore and leaned against the wall. It was so nice and cool. You turned and stretched your arms against it as you caught your breath. You stayed like that until the wall began to absorb your body heat.

“Hey,” Bucky scared you again as you parted from the wall. “Where are you off to?”

“Trying to get out of here,” You peered down to the other end of the hall behind you. “Did you…follow me?”

“Uh, yeah, you kinda left in a hurry,” He explained, “Kinda concerning when someone runs away like they saw a ghost.”

“I’m fine, I just need to go home.” You touched your stomach and winced as it was a little too close to your pelvis. “I think I drank too much.”

“How about some fresh air?” He ventured, “Might help clear your mind.”

You looked at him warily. You could barely think as the heat stoked once more. Your dress clung to you and your scalp was itchy with sweat. And your pelvis! It hurt so bad. A yearning so deep and carnal it felt as if your bones would snap.

“Sure, sure,” You replied impatiently, “God, I’m hot.”

“This way,” He waved you to the far end of the hall, just to the left and a quick right,“ He directed you from behind. He was few steps back yet it felt like he was almost on top of you. Gosh, that though made your thighs thrum. "Right here.”

You stopped and turned back as he pointed to the small alcove you had just passed. A metal door marked ‘roof’ which he easily pulled open. “The censor on this busted a while back. They still haven’t fixed the alarm.”

“Hmm,” You grumbled as he motioned you ahead of him. “I take it this is you’re usual hiding spot, then.”

“One of them,” He followed closer this time and you could feel your ass at the same height as his eyes as you climbed. “Sometimes I’d rather catch the sunset than Tony’s latest shit-eating toast.”

“As much a cynic as expected,” you opened the door at the top of the stairs and the night air washed over you as you stepped out in the moonlight.

You carefully descended the single step from the door and inhaled deeply. You heard Bucky behind you as the door closed with a clang and he hopped down heavily. It was the highest peak of the tower, the jet pad on the lower crown of Stark Tower. Here there was little but a few exhaust fans and solar panel.

You shook out your arms as the evening chill did nothing to cool you. If anything, it made you feel hotter. You grasped your skirt and squeezed shut your eyes as you tried to will away the persistence. Your chest rose and fell as your heart clamoured.

You felt something against your forehead and opened your eyes to find Bucky’s hand on your forehead. You stepped back in shock and he let his hand fall. “You got a fever or something?” He didn’t sound as concerned as his words would have him seem. “Hot and bothered, are we?” The tone of his voice was deeper; sinister.

His metal hand shot forward and caught yours as you began to back away. “W-what?”

“I hadn’t planned on using it tonight,” He drew you closer as your heels skidded beneath your feet, “I thought maybe I could get it in your coffee or just a hint in that little lip balm you keep in your purse. I had wanted to wait but…some things just align all at once.”

“What are you talking about?” You were in a panic between the mystery of his words and whatever was driving your biology to madness.

“I may have used too much. It’s strong, isn’t it?” He smirked as he brought you flush against him and rested his hands on your ass. You were trembling as you gripped his forearms. You tried to push him away but were too weak as your body told you to grab on tighter. “You’re resisting it quite well but that won’t last.”

“What did you do to me?” You groaned and rubbed your thighs together desperately.

“There are stimulants used in interrogations. Used to cause extreme reactions to elicit answers from captured spies. Some make you terribly itchy to the point of scratching through your skin. Others cause hallucinations to the point that one would claw their eyes out. But this one is often used on missions when one needs to interlope quickly.” He leaned in, his nose tickled your temple and he pressed his lips to your cheekbones. He pushed closer and whispered in your ear. “This one sends ones baser desires into overdrive. Like adrenaline for your hormones.”

“Why?” You gasped, unable to release him. Your body pressed into his without permission and his fingers kneaded your ass hungrily.

“You’re not the only one with a crush,” He slithered as he bent and nuzzled into your neck.

His left hand slipped down your thigh and around to the front. He traced along the fabric of your skirt and cupped your vee. He pressed until you were squirming, bucking against him at the slightest friction. He forced his fingers between your legs and began to roughly stroke you through your dress. He had barely touched you and already you had soaked through your panties.

You could do nothing but cling to him. Your body, despite the whirlwind of your mind, was ravenous for any touch; his touch. His hand moved against you roughly as he held you in place. Your entire figure quaked as he teased you through your dress. You threw your head back wildly as your breath picked up. The flurry of sparks blooming in your loins was too much. It grew to sharp strikes along your flesh.

Your orgasmed ripped from you as Bucky growled into your throat. You shuddered as his hand slowed and you would’ve toppled over if he wasn’t holding onto you. The edges of your vision were hazy, the stars and distant lights of the city below streaked through the dark like smudged paint.

You planted your feet as your heels threatened to wobble beneath your soles. You reached down to Bucky’s hand and tried to push it away. Despite the release, you still felt an indefatigable hunger. He wove his fingers through yours and held you as if in a dance; his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“I know you’re not done so soon,” He taunted, “Why, you’re still burning up.”

“Ohhhh,” You almost roared as he swayed your body against yours, “Why–It hurts.”

He held you upright as your legs turned to jelly and you were as good as putty in his hands. “I know, I know,” He cooed, “I can help you.” He shushed you as you began to whine.

You shook your head but tightened your grip on his hand. You pushed your body against his as you wiggled, desperate for any sort of friction. He let go of your hand and ran his fingers down your side an to your thigh. He leaned down as he lifted your leg and hooked it around him. You latched onto his shoulder to balance yourself.

“That’s it,” He said, “Just like that.”

He slid your skirt over your knee until it bunched around your pelvis. His metal hand grazed the front of your panties, your juices coated them entirely. He grabbed side of the cotton thong and tore it swiftly. He let the fabric fall beneath you and his fingers probed your folds without delay. You squeaked and shivered at his touch.

He dipped his fingers inside and you bit your lip against the cry. It felt so good and yet not enough. He curled his fingers and pressed his thumb to your clit. The spasm it sent through you almost had you in pieces. You slung your arms around his neck as you pushed yourself closer to him and buried your face against his lapel. Electricity flowed through you and a sudden shock drained all the strength from you. You moaned as another orgasm spiked and your saliva trickled onto his suit as you smushed your lips against him.

“Steve’s white bread,” Bucky said as he removed his hand. His arm stirred between you as he flicked open the button of his fly and you heard the descent of his zipper. “He’d never fuck you like this…” You looked down as he pulled out his cock and you muttered as you tried to fight the urge to grab him yourself. “You do want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

“N-n-n…” You couldn’t get the word out as your leg wrapped around him tighter. “I n-n-need it.” You dropped and arm and snaked your fingers between your bodies until they were at your clit.

“Yeah?” He gave a sultry chuckle and stroked his cock as he bent his knees.

He aligned himself with your entrance before he grabbed your leg and held it around him. He pushed just his head inside and you squirmed. Your head lolled back and forth as gibberish spewed from your lips.

“Mmmmm–more!” You dug your nails into his shoulders and mewed pathetically. “Please.”

He took it an inch at a time, your knee bent around his hand as you leaned into him. He was big and it seemed to take forever. When he was at his limit you purred, your mouth hanging open as you panted hungrily. He pulled back and you whined, your hand grasping at his hair. He chuckled and pushed back in, thrusting slowly as you trembled helplessly. You rocked your pelvis eagerly, trying to set the pace but he easily kept his motion. Your walls pulsed around his cock but you quivered.

“More?” He asked and you looked up to nod at him frantically. Your eyes bulged as your words scrambled without sense. His other hand slid down your thigh and he lifted you all at once. He let you sink down onto him, moving his hips as he lingered inside. “Shit. So fucking hot.”

His hands slipped down to your ass and he dragged you up the length of his cock. You gripped his shoulders tightly as you squeezed him between your thighs and followed his motion. You bounced up and down on him, no restraint left as you quickly took the reins from him. It wasn’t about him, the night sky, the whiskey, or even you. It was your body. You needed it so bad. It hurt and you couldn’t think straight. All that was in your mind was the way he plunged into you so snugly with each thrust.

The skirt of your dress hung over his hands, the fabric flapping with each rise and fall of your pelvis. You let your head loll back as you rode Bucky eagerly. The ache of your thighs wasn’t enough to stop you as you only went faster and faster. He brought a hand up and tugged on the strap of your gown until it snapped. You didn’t even care as he did the same to your bra and shimmied both past your breast. His thumb teased your nipple as you rutted against him, your flesh squelched against his with your arousal.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” You murmured as you moved your pelvis in sharper thrusts. You couldn’t get enough. “Gawwwwwwd,” You sputtered and succumbed to the tide that washed over you. The orgasm added to the heat of your body and piqued with a shower of embers along your flesh. “W-w-w-why?” You asked as you slowed and the twinge remained. “W-w-why w-won’t it s-stop?”

“Oh, we’re not even close to done,” He snarled and lowered you back to your feet. He pulled out of you abruptly and you sobbed. “Turn around.” He directed you as he untangled himself from your arms. “Come on.” He pushed your shoulders so that you were forced to obey. He lifted your skirt and gather it above your ass. “Bend over.”

You were a bit too eager to listen. You almost got head rush as you leaned forward, the air cold on your swollen pussy. You shook and wiggled your ass as you felt his cock against it and he spanked. You exclaimed and hung your head.

This time he impaled you in one stroke. You gasped as he bottomed out and you held onto your knees to keep from falling. He bent over you and his hand cupped your breasts as he pulled you up to stand straight. He kept you flush against him as he began to thrust into you from behind.

“Is this what you wanted him to do to you? Huh?” He grunted in your ear. “You slut.” His motion grew harder with each word. “You wanna be Captain America’s slut?” He tweaked your nipples and the sensation met that in your pelvis and another orgasm tore through you. “I think you like being mine better, don’t you?”

“Mmmpmmm,” You moaned as your eyes rolled back.

The orgasms were starting to rush over you with only seconds between and with each, you only grew more senseless. Your feet were barely on the ground as he fucked you. A doll in his arms to play with. You clawed at the side of his pants as he pounded into you, gripping the fabric as his pace stuttered and he gave several long strokes. You felt the hot river flowing within you as he gave a loud grunt. He slowed and finally stopped, your body twitched and spasmed as he held you up.

You arched your back and clenched around his cock. His metal hand went to your throat as he pushed your head up. He leaned down and his lips brushed along your cheekbone as he spoke. “Don’t you worry,” His voice sent a thrill through you, smothering that within which told you it was wrong, “I’m just getting started.”

tags: @brigidwolf @thepettyavenger @tuyetnhivo @thosecikinnn @glitterypinkkitty @thoughtlesstales @selinbaskaya @sathlens @vitamingrant @lilithhellfire @bbyspiiice @blackpantherimagines @kweenkxtrina @heavenlyblyss @letsagomario @collette04 @secretlyactivated @xxm3xxj @roses-and-absinthe @asleep-amid-the-flowers @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @crownofrowan @sunstarskyhappiness @xxxelettaxxx @rainbowkisses31 @xdatbitch @quant-um-fizzx @couldntbedamned @scarletlingeries @directionerfae @bodhi-black @kyllorren @captainarp @hardygal69 @sargeant-bbarnes @heartislubbingdubbing @aekr @arkhamsanity @lazinessisalliknow @grossceleste @jordysgirl87 @spn-marvel-nerd @kissedbythedarkness @fandomkolors @brokensunflowersworld @msdmc1 @collette04 @hannahxem @noteyebox @imkloeyjarvis @breezy1415 @alexakeyloveloki @beautiful-and-strange @phoenix21love @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @justballoonfishthings @ms-munchkin @whosmarisaaarw @kxllyxnnx @sathlens @calspixie @satinprincessxo @amethyst-the-thot @docharleythegeekqueen @iiqueer-vibesii @carol-dark-vers @l0rd-disick @jilldsumner @hufflebucky @lanabanana-86 @nerdypinupcrystal @notyourtypicalrose @pink1031 @agent-spidey @wassupbitchesssss @lucifersnipnips @thirstyforsomeyandere @supernaturalonice @stuckybarton @ruff-m3rc @rainbowkisses31 @heartbeats-wildly @xdatbitch @tea-with-seb @the-lululemon @abesottedlass @poppyshawn @obsesseds-world @jazztherebel @holylulusworld @yagurlrosie @desir-ae @adreamemporium @ashrod98 @buckyxwintersxldier @spaghettirogers @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lazinessisalliknow @kastheabsolutepessimist @daggersofloki @odinson-barnes @amelia-acero @marvelmaree @steadypetty @they-call-me-le @wintersoldier1017 @supernaturaldean67 @biba3434 @marvel-fan23 @basementcafe @periodtcevans

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #fic #inthedark!challenge #writing challenge #au #one shot #sex pollen #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #dark fic #dark verse #dark!verse

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authorialarcanist · 3 years ago

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Gracidea Blossom Chapter 5: Mischief of a Noisy Girl

(Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum x Little Busters!)

Mirror Links: AO3, Pokécommunity, Spacebattles

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Previous - Next

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“My name’s Haruka! And - Poison Sting! - You’ve left yourself open!” Haruka smirks at Riki, and he whirls around to see her Tentacool whip a thick grey tentacle out of the water. It lashes out at Terra, and the Turtwig recoils from its stinging venom.

“Ah— Terra! Use Tackle!” Although Terra tries to retaliate, Haruka’s Tentacool hastily drifts backwards to the middle of its pool. Terra skids to a stop before it can plunge into the water. No matter what angle it tries to approach from, it can’t get in range of Soap - ‘Soap’, I can’t believe I thought Kyousuke’s names were unoriginal - because of the size of the pool. Soap, on the other hand, gleefully slips closer whenever it can find an opening for another Poison Sting, before swimming back to the middle any time Terra seems about to retaliate.

Riki orders his Pokémon to Withdraw the next time Soap comes around for an attack, and this time the Tentacool’s tentacles slip ineffectually off of Terra’s shell as it hunkers down. Trying to ignore Haruka’s gleeful cheering, Riki thinks the situation over. Terra can’t reach the Tentacool to attack it, and although its shell can deflect many of Soap’s attacks, some are still getting through. Staying on the defensive without any way to retaliate is a clear shot to being whittled down, and while Sly can attack at range with Rock Throw, it would be at a disadvantage against a Water—wait. Riki flips open his Pokédex and points its camera at the Tentacool, bringing up the species’ profile after a moment. He scrolls through the abilities typically displayed by Tentacool, and decides to take a risk. Most members of its species don’t start using Water-type attacks until they’re fairly strong already, so…

“Terra, return! Go, Sly!” His Pokéball shoots a beam of light to recall the Turtwig, and Riki returns it to his belt, fumbling for a moment as he switches it for Sly’s ball. He sends the Bonsly out with a solid overhand throw, but Haruka takes advantage of the momentary opening.

“Use Toxic Spikes!” At her order, Soap spits out a multitude of spiky caltrops accompanied by a glob of venom. They scatter across the battlefield where they land, and Riki’s Bonsly gives a plaintive cry when its Pokéball opens and disgorges it on top of several spikes, puncturing its feet and delivering venom directly into its system. Riki can’t help but groan as he realizes they’re another hazard that’ll need to be cleaned up.

“Sly, use Rock Throw!” Sly turns to Soap with a growl, and starts batting scattered chunks of rock at it. Although many of them miss their target, the cave floor holds ammunition to spare, and soon more and more are striking true.

“Pretty bold of you to use a Rock Type against Water, Riki!” Haruka flourishes dramatically, pointing her left hand at Sly. “Do you really think your Bonsly can stand up to a Bubblebeam?” Riki’s heart skips a beat, but the Tentacool just glares balefully at its trainer. “…Is what I’d say, if Soap had learned it yet! Go, Thumbtack!” A shaky beam of light recalls Soap to a Pokéball clutched in her right hand, and a moment later she tosses a new ball into the middle of the fray. The Pokémon that emerges appears to be a grey cloth puppet suspended in the air by some invisible force. It has an ovular head with a thin mouth and wide, angry eyes. On top of it is a horn longer than the head is tall, and beneath the head the cloth pools out and wavers mysteriously in the air. This is the Ghost-type Pokémon Shuppet. It looks around and immediately gets beaned in the face by a thrown rock.

“Attacking before I’m ready isn’t very nice,” Haruka complains.

“You’ve done it multiple times already!” A vein bulges in Riki’s forehead.

“Oh, well, can’t be helped, can’t be helped~” Haruka’s sing-song voice rings out as she circles the battlefield to a new vantage point. “Use Curse - whoops!” There’s a muffled thud as she bumps into something.

“Oh? What’s going on here?” That something turns out to be Kengo as he and Masato finally catch up to the others. He watches curiously as the Shuppet punctures itself with spectral needles, sacrificing its own vitality to begin sapping Sly’s health. Between its poisoned status and the Curse, Riki’s Bonsly is starting to flag. Still, it’s not ready to go down yet, and it keeps pelting Thumbtack with rocks. Haruka shouts a command of her own and the Shuppet’s eyes begin to glow purple, causing Sly to shiver under the Night Shade attack.

Still, Sly’s assault together with Thumbtack’s own sacrifice prove too much for the Shuppet, and after another direct hit with a rock, it finally gives up the ghost. Haruka returns her dazed Pokémon to its ball before it can hit the ground. Her easygoing expression falters for a moment.

“Tch… fine! Soap, you can still finish this!” With a strong overhand throw, the Tentacool appears in its pool once more. “Poison Sting!” Soap tries to stun Sly with its tentacles. The Bonsly brushes off the stinging toxins and hits it with a rock dead-on, causing Soap to recoil backwards. The Tentacool is on the ropes… But it’s at that moment that the poison and the Curse on Sly finally finish their jobs. The Bonsly wobbles and drops to the ground, pretending to be a harmless potted plant in one last attempt to deceive its attacker.

“Sly, you did well! G-go, Terra!” Riki stumbles over his words as he switches back to his remaining Pokémon. Even as he swaps his Turtwig back into the battle, he knows that he’s lost - and that Haruka knows it as well. Thanks to the poisonous spikes covering the battlefield and the width of Soap’s pool, all Haruka has to do is have her Tentacool hold back while its poison whittles Terra down. Although Riki shouts at his Turtwig to Withdraw and protect itself against attacks, he’s only delaying the inevitable.

“W, well, that got a little close there, but it looks like that’s going to be another win for the amazing Haruka!” The girl in question wipes sweat from her brow as she speaks, panting a little and trying to catch her breath. Her Pokémon floats just outside the edges of Terra’s range, occasionally slipping closer to probe the Turtwig’s defenses. Terra growls and snaps at its tentacles each time, seemingly frustrated that it can’t retaliate.

Riki doesn’t respond, focused on the battle as Terra takes more and more hits. He can’t see any way out of this situation, but at least he can see it through to the end. “I’m sorry, Terra… You tried really hard…” He hangs his head. The Turtwig, however, growls in frustration and stands tall. With what looks like immense effort, the leaf on its head begins to glow, causing wispy motes of green to pull themselves out of Soap and flock to its leaf. The red welts down Terra’s sides heal a little and it glances back at Riki defiantly, as though to ask him if he still wants to give up.

“Eh? She’s learned Absorb?” Haruka stares at the Turtwig. “Um - doesn’t matter! She still can’t hold out for long against Soap’s poison!”

Riki is stunned for a moment, himself, and it’s only after the Tentacool goes for another Poison Sting that he snaps out of it. “Terra! Use Absorb again!” With each attack, Terra heals a little - but the special attack is still clearly draining it. Still, Sly’s rocks wore Soap down badly enough that it’s just a matter of which exhausted Pokémon falls first.

“Poison Sting!”

“Absorb!”

“Poison Sting!”

“Absorb!”

“Poison—” With a burbling cry, Soap floats lower in the water, too tired to respond. Haruka returns it and grimaces, reaching for a Pokéball set on the back of her belt… And then her hand drops. “…W…well, I guess that’s it, huh? You win, yahaha…” She chuckles weakly.

Riki blinks. It’s hard to believe he actually won — and whoops, there goes Terra. The Turtwig stumbles as the poison keeps up its work, and Riki hastily returns it to its Pokéball.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Riki looks back up to see Kengo clamp his hand over Haruka’s shoulder, as the latter appears to have inched several feet down the path through Mt. Coronet while he wasn’t looking. “Riki, what were the terms of the battle?”

“Huh? Umm…” Riki pauses for a moment as his brain catches up, and then he registers what Kengo was asking. “Wait, that’s right! You have to help us clean this place up!”

“Eh?” Haruka sweats. “I, oh look! It’s a UFO!” She points at the cave ceiling past Riki. He doesn’t look. “…L-look, isn’t that Mew behind you?” There’s a quiet creaking sound as rock settles somewhere on the mountain. “…o…oh my… don’t look now… but there’s a… a…” She trails off. “…Aw, I hate cleaning…”

——

Five friends (and one detainee) crouch around a cave entrance, sweeping spikes and marbles into neat piles out of the way of the main path.

“Trainer’s log… Day… I’ve forgotten how many…” Haruka mutters to herself in a dead voice, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’ve lost all will to escape. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I last ate. I think… I think this is the end…”

“It’s been an hour at the longest. Stop complaining.” Kengo glares at her from his post on the other side of what had been her and Riki’s battlefield.

“Why did we have to get dragged into this, anyways?” Masato whines as he hops in place, trying to yank a spike out of his shoe.

Kyousuke sighs. “Well, you know Riki, he’s always concerned about things. It’s not like we could move on without him.”

“Isn’t it your job to be worried about this?” Riki shoots back. If this is how Kyousuke always treats his Champion duties, no wonder he’s concerned about job-hunting…

“My first priority will always be to take care of you guys, Riki.”

Riki fumbles a handful of marbles, and hides his face rushing to pick them back up.

Haruka chuckles. “You’re all really good friends, huh?”

“Of course! That’s what the Little Busters are about,” Riki says with a smile.

She seems about to respond when Kyousuke speaks up. “Oh, by the way. Are you almost done over there, miss…” He pauses, “…Saigusa, was it?”

Haruka freezes.

“Sorry, was that not your last name?” Kyousuke continues casually.

Haruka responds after a moment, voice chilly. “That’s not really your business, is it?”

“Um… Kyousuke? I don’t think Haruka told us anything about her last…?” Riki looks back and forth between the two, uncertain.

“Ah well, I guess it’s not important. Just trying to learn more about the people we meet, you know.” Kyousuke turns back to his cleaning.

“Well, then, if it’s so important for your dossier, you’ll want to know I prefer my first name. I’ve cleaned up this end - that is what you asked for, right?” Haruka pushes herself to her feet. “Oh, and… Riki?”

“Hm? Ow!” Riki rubs his forehead, and the marble that just hit it falls into his lap.

“Keep it. As thanks, since you’re disposing of the spikes for me!” Haruka breaks into a run.

“Huh? Wait, hold on. I don’t know how to get rid of these! Come back here!”

“Bye-bye, Riki!” Haruka gives a jaunty wave and disappears around a corner.

“HARUKAAAAA!”

——

Riki finally steps out into the open air, laden with a bag of poisonous caltrops, and is met with a chilly breeze. Most of the afternoon has passed, and gray clouds hang heavily over Route 207. Like Route 208, very little plant life grows in the rugged terrain cradled by the mountain. Route 207 is more level than its eastern cousin, however. The road west is mainly a straight shot, carved directly out of the mountain’s rock. There’s a more mountainous stretch south of the main road, but the group ignores it. At this point, they just want to get to Oreburgh.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Rin. Is your leg alright?” Kengo’s concerned voice cuts through the tired atmosphere. Rin is walking a little behind the group, with a slight limp. She’d hurt her ankle when she and Riki fell earlier; Riki shrinks a little at the reminder that he’d been too distracted by the battle to notice until afterwards.

Rin shakes her head with a quiet jingle. “No, I’m okay. That girl was just…” She looks away, dazed. “She was noisy.”

She really does seem out of it; even when Kyousuke pats her head, her retaliation is half-hearted. Still, they’re all tired out. Hopefully, having a good sleep in Oreburgh will put her right.

After another half hour of walking, Riki notices something odd in their surroundings. “Hey, Kyousuke?”

“Hm?”

“Do you know what those are?” Riki points at a small pipe sticking out of the side of the road at an angle. Gaps in the metal open into what looks like a hollow center leading down. Little flecks of blue paint are scattered across the exterior, evidently remains from a once-careful paint job, but now the metal just looks rusty and poorly-maintained.

“Ah…” Kyousuke scratches his head. “That’s part of a ventilation system for the Oreburgh Mines. Apparently, there was a program a couple decades ago to expand the mines out further under Sinnoh. They laid down these pipes across the eastern side of Mt. Coronet, to provide them with fresh air, but in the end the project fell through.”

“Oreburgh fell on hard times after that,” Masato adds. “The mines are getting more and more obsolete, so they stopped maintaining the outer regions. At this point, the accessible areas are mostly just a training ground for people who want to fight wild Pokémon.”

“Huh. I didn’t expect you to know that much about something other than muscles,” Riki says.

“Yeah, well, you pick it up.” Masato turns to Kyousuke. “We only have to stay here for one night, yeah?”

Kyousuke nods. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back on the road first thing tomorrow.”

“Good,” Masato grunts, and picks up the pace.

Riki lowers his voice. “Is it just me, or is Masato acting unusual?”

Surprisingly, it’s Rin who replies. “I don’t think he liked it here much.”

“Wait.” Riki turns to her. “You mean Oreburgh is his hometown?”

“Mhm.” Rin’s bell rings gently with her nod. “Kyousuke and I were on a trip when we first met him.”

“Huh…”

Soon, the rock and dirt turn to scraggly grass, and the road forks. Trees dot the way north, leading to the elevated Cycling Road and eventually Eterna City. However, the Little Busters turn south towards Oreburgh instead. The terrain gets rockier again as they walk, until suddenly Kyousuke stops and Riki bumps into him.

“Ah - sorry, Kyousuke!” Riki rubs his forehead, where repeated trauma is beginning to grow a bump.

“It’s okay, Riki. Look.” Kyousuke points in front of him, and Riki follows his gaze to where the road turns into a short, messy cliff. A mud slide has blocked off the usual path down to the city. “Do you think you can climb down that safely?”

“Um… I think it should be okay, if we’re careful.” Riki glances around the group. “What about Rin’s leg, though? It’s probably not a good idea for her to try and climb on that.”

“As long as it’s just her, it should be fine. Go, Louis!” Kyousuke sends out his Nidoking, which stretches in the open air. “Rin, you can hold on while he uses Rock Climb to get down. Does that sound good?”

“I guess that’s fine.” Rin climbs onto Louis’ back, and the Nidoking carries her down the cliff while Riki and the others look for a reasonable descent. Kengo finds a jagged chunk of cliff face with several footholds sticking out, and calls them to follow him while he lowers himself carefully down. A few minutes later, they’re all on solid ground again, and Kyousuke withdraws Louis. After leaving the small patch of grass they touched down in, the group only needs to walk south for a couple minutes before they’re within city limits.

Oreburgh is an industrial city, grown off the back of its mining industry. Aside from a few potted shrubs outside houses here and there, there’s almost no greenery; the whole town is built on dirt paths. The wind whips up eddies of coal dust, and makes Rin sneeze. Tall buildings are scattered around, and when Riki looks south he catches sight of the huge conveyor belts that hang above the entrance to the mine proper. He doesn’t linger, however; the group makes a beeline for the Pokémon Center instead. Their Pokémon are exhausted, aside from Kyousuke’s team, so Riki, Rin, Masato, and Kengo line up in front of the central counter to check them in for healing. Riki warns the nurse at the counter about his Pokémon’s poisoned status, and then after handing over their Pokéballs he follows Kyousuke up an escalator on the east side of the building. Pokémon Centers are meant to be central stops for Trainers, so they typically come with sleeping quarters for travelers on the move.

After checking into one of the openings, Riki collapses in a chair.

Kyousuke sits down next to him. “Quite a first day, huh?”

“Yeah…” Riki wipes some sweat off of his forehead. “Are all of your trips this busy?”

Kyousuke chuckles. “Don’t worry, Riki. You’ll get used to it with time.”

“Is it really that important, though? I mean… this isn’t going to be that long a trip, is it?”

Kyousuke pats him on the shoulder. “It’s important to be able to count on yourself, Riki. You had fun, right?”

Riki sighs. “I mean… Kind of, yeah. It’s always fun, running off on one of your missions. But… At the same time… Finding the path blocked, running into a family of wild Pokémon, getting randomly challenged by that girl… A lot of it was honestly just stressful.”

“…” Kyousuke doesn’t seem sure how to respond. After a moment, he gets up and turns away. “Come on, Riki. We should go get something to eat.”

As Riki follows, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s said something wrong.

#Little Busters!#Pokemon #fanfiction #Naoe Riki #Saigusa Haruka #Natsume Kyousuke #Natsume Rin #Miyazawa Kengo #Inohara Masato #Gracidea Blossom #Sinnoh

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years ago

Text

Roguish Women Part 29

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 29: Kate tells her truth

Francis Lynch was a wreck. She could barely stand or hold her head up and it had been three hours since the police had left. Three hours since one of the detectives informed her of her husband’s accident. In the wee hours of the morning, Ryan Lynch, drunk as a skunk, had fallen into the Boston Harbor and drowned.

“What am I going to do?” She wailed from her seat at the kitchen table. Her head was in her hands.

Her eighteen-year-old daughter was sitting on the floor, her knees tucked to her chest. “It’ll be alright, mom.” She said quietly. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her father was never the person he was meant to be. He worked twelve hours a day then spent his free time in the pub. He was never particularly loving toward his only child. After all, she was simply a mistake in his eyes. Young and reckless, he got Francis pregnant and his Catholic father guilted them into marriage.

But Kate was still sad. She still loved him.

“It won’t be alright!” Francis cried. “We’ll lose the apartment, we’ll lose everything!”

“No, we won’t.” Kate stood up shakily and tried to comfort her mother. “I promise we’ll be alright.”

~~~~~

“I worked to help pay the bills and to pay my neighbor for ballet lessons,” Kate explained. She sat down on the bed as she started to explain everything, she had lied to him about. “My mom worked too but my father brought in the most money.”

Tommy wasn’t sure he expected the story to go so far back. In his experience, the farther back a story went, the more lies there were. But he tried to keep an open mind, she was being honest with him even if he was hesitant about it.

“When my father died, we would’ve become homeless in a couple of months.”

Tommy frowned. “You didn’t tell me your father died.” As far as the story went, or at least the one he was led to believe, Kate’s father was the reason for all of her troubles. Someone who was caught up in the American mafia, who placed all the burden on Kate.

“Just, just listen.”

He nodded and went to sit beside her on the bed. The last thing he wanted was for a confrontation so soon after reuniting with her. That’s why he had wanted to at least delay the truth. But he also didn’t want her to feel guilty either.

“I’d known Frank Wallace and his brother Steve for a long time. They were already established as the Gustin Gang by that point and they controlled most of South Boston. I met Frank through my neighbor who taught me lessons. He had helped her rent and legal issues. So, I went to him after my father died.”

~~~

“Girl like you shouldn’t be dealing in those sorta things, Katie,” Frank warned.

They were at one of the bars the Wallace brothers owned. One of the places Kate’s father frequented. Kate looked around the place, wondering if this was the last place her father had been before he left and fell into the Harbor.

“I don’t think I have a choice.” She replied quietly.

“I’ll help you find a good job with better pay.” He assured her. “Don’t worry about your landlord either, I’ll pay him a visit if he gives you trouble ‘bout the rent.”

To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like the perfect scenario. Having friends in gangs sometimes had its perks. But Kate shook her head. “I don’t want that, Frankie. You know how long I’ve been training to dance. I’m not going to give that up so I can work myself to death like…” She paused. “Whatever.”

Frank tapped his knuckles on the table. “But to get into shit like bootlegging? You’re only gonna bring yourself more troubles.”

“It’s what I want to do. I can do this and have enough money to take care of my mom. Meanwhile, I can hopefully get into a ballet company. Then over time, I might make more from dancing.”

The older man sighed. “I know that I can’t fucking do anything to change your mind. But you need to know that this shit isn’t something you can walk away from. Not a little side job you can drop whenever you want.”

“I know.”

~~~

“I used my father’s identity to set it all up. I started to facilitate shipments from Europe to get liquor into Boston and then ship it all over the country. I put any debts in my father’s name and Frank helped me deal with anyone so nothing would be traced back to me.”

Tommy wasn’t surprised that she had managed to create a bootlegging empire. Kate was certainly clever enough to get the job done. He was just unsure why she hadn’t confessed that to him when they initially met. But he wanted to hear her out so he nodded for her to continue.

“I was accepted into the Boston ballet company and began dancing. It became so much easier after that. I started to meet people who were higher up in the city. Rich people, people who wanted things done. Only the wealthiest knew who I really was. Everyone else thought it was my father in control.”

~~~

“That was a beautiful performance, Miss Lynch.”

“Oh, Mr. Weld,” Kate startled as she left the theatre through the backstage door. “I didn’t see you there.”

The wealthy businessman was standing by his expensive, neatly polished car parked in the back alley. Mr. Weld was dressed in a tuxedo, demonstrating that he had seen the ballet performance that had just ended.

“Let me drive you home.” He offered, opening the car door for her.

“That would be kind, thank you.” Kate had no qualms about getting into his car. She was armed with a pistol and even then she doubted the man would attack her. She was far too valuable.

“I do appreciate your work, Kathleen but I came here to voice some concerns.” Mr. Weld said as he got into the car and started it up.

“By all means, tell me what you’re worried about.”

The man sighed anxiously. “I understand you’ve been branching out to Chicago, selling to their bars. Word is you’ve gathered a few men there who act on your behalf.”

“I don’t give out names of people I work with,” Kate replied calmly. “What I do in Chicago won’t affect my business with your bars, Mr. Weld. You’ll get shipments and protection as long as I’m paid.”

“What I’m concerned about is the Chicago Outfit.” He ignored the mild threat. He’d been behind a few times with payments and had learned his lesson early on that it didn’t matter that Kate was a woman. She wasn’t someone to be messed with.

Kate bit her tongue. The Chicago Outfit was frightening to anyone, but she didn’t show fear. “There’s no reason for concern.”

“Pardon my insistence, but there’s been word that you’ve…you’ve been disregarding their territory lines. I would urge you to be careful or to even back out of Chicago entirely. The more you press…”

“What?” She glanced over at him, still conveying that she wasn’t bothered even when her stomach was in knots.

Mr. Weld’s fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel. “The more attention you’ll call to yourself. I don’t wish to have any ties to someone who upsets them.”

“Then pay me what I’m due and our contract will be finished,” Kate replied with a tone of finality. “You can go over to the North End and ask the Italians for help. Because you won’t get any more help from any of my allies.”

Mr. Weld swallowed. “Just please consider your actions a bit more carefully.” He parked outside of the Lynch’s apartment building.

“I run my business how I see fit,” Kate said, stepping out of the car. “Let me know if you want to continue our business relationship.” She closed the car door firmly.

~~~

“I was making money but not enough to completely stay afloat. , I branched out further to Chicago and made mistakes. I was given a warning but I didn’t listen.”

Tommy had been in the game long enough to know the consequences of ignoring warnings. “What did they do?”

“They took a train to Boston and kidnapped my mother. They tortured her for days but she wouldn’t tell them where I was. They ended up throwing her in the river.” Kate tucked her knees to her chest as she stared at the floor with tears in her eyes. The sight of her mother’s body being hauled out of the river would always be etched into her brain. The guilt was so unbearable she tried to pawn it off to someone else. It was the Chicago Outfit’s fault. It was the fault of whoever gave them her mother’s address. It was her father’s fault for leaving them with no income. But in the end, there was no escaping it. Kate knew it was her fault.

Tommy, although stunned into silence by her history, he instinctually wrapped an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. His actions had led to the death of others. He knew the weight of guilt that would always rest on his soul.

“That same night I went to Santo. I wanted him to get revenge for me. I only knew him because he left me a letter after one of my performances. He hounded me for weeks about a business relationship and then something personal. I knew he was waiting for me after the news spread about my mother.”

~~~

“My condolences, Miss Lynch.” Santo poured Kate a glass of wine. They were sat together in a secluded booth at one of the North End restaurants Santo owned.

“Thank you.” She replied quietly. It still hadn’t quite hit that her mother was dead. Yet, there she was, willing to negotiate for revenge.

“Why is it you wanted to come to see me so soon after your mother passed?” He asked even though there was a twinkle in his eye. A sort of knowing. There was no mystery as to why she was there.

“Because I need the bastard who killed her to pay. I want him dead.”

He raised his eyebrows as if he hadn’t even considered that. “And why should I help you? You’ve never proposed an alliance before, why would I risk any of my men to help you? You must know that the Chicago Outfit are dangerous.”

“Because you’re the only one in Boston who has a feud with them, you would want an opportunity to raise hell, and I would pay you.” Kate knew that talking to gang leaders was never easy. She tended to get right to the bottom line to skip all the fanfare they were so fond of.

“I’m a wealthy man, Kate, why would I need your money?” He adjusted his cufflinks almost as an example.

“What else would you want?”

~~~

“That’s where the deal came in. He killed the man who killed my mother. But when the deadline came, I didn’t have enough money. One of my shipments fell through and I lost a lot of money. I begged Santo to give me more time but he refused.”

Tommy couldn’t help the instinctual anger he felt when Santo’s name was brought up. It only minorly distracted him from the bewildering story Kate was telling him.

“I left before he could get me and ended up in France.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Tommy mumbled quietly.

“Yeah.” Her voice was almost at a whisper. Kate was terrified of what he would say to her.

But he didn’t speak for a long while. He kept his arm around her, absent-mindedly rubbing her shoulder.

“Say something, please.” She begged.

“I don’t know what to say, Kate.” He finally spoke. “I just-I don’t know if it changes anything but I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.”

Kate felt like breaking down and just curling into a ball. Hardly anyone knew her true story. If she trusted anyone to hear it, Tommy would be high up on that list. But it was still agonizing to open up her old wounds. “Because when I went to France, I vowed to put it all behind me. I didn’t want to be that person again not after what happened to my mother. But then you came into my life and…” She put a hand to her face. “I don’t know I just thought you might be my ticket out.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You made me feel safe. And if I had to go back to what I was doing before then I trusted you would be able to keep me safe. Especially if Santo ended up finding me.” She tried to explain as best she could. “But I still wanted to be rid of my past so that’s why I lied. Maybe I just didn’t want to admit what I’d done.”

Tommy wasn’t sure what else he could say. Perhaps she had a reason for lying to him. Maybe it was enough that she wanted to put her past behind her. Sometimes, Tommy wished he could just step away from it all and resume a new life. Start off on a clean slate without any debts. But the world didn’t work that way. Kate was now figuring that out.

“I didn’t think I would fall in love with you. I didn’t even plan on staying in Birmingham that long. I had no problem lying because…your family was just another step in the road. But…then I-I fell in love with you and I just didn’t know how to tell you the truth. The longer I waited, the harder it got.” Weary from all the emotions she’d gone through in those past months, she slumped forward over her knees, holding her hands to her face. “I don’t want to be just another person who lied to you.”

“C’mere.” He helped her sit upright so he could cradle her in his arms. “What we have is real, aye? It doesn’t have anything to do with what happened in America. The only thing I care about is what happens between us here.”

Kate buried her face in the crook of his neck. She wanted him to push her away, to look at her with disgust and hatred. She wanted him to hate her for the things she’d done.

But he held her close and kissed her hair. “It’s done, yeah? You’re coming home, you leave all of it behind.”

“Tom, I lied to everyone. I put them at risk I-” She couldn’t say it, but she felt worse than Grace. She had lied for longer than Grace had. She had condemned Grace for lying, yet Kate had been lying all along as well.

“Leave it behind, Kate.” He urged. “You can leave it behind.”

He looked over her shoulder, still processing everything she’d told him. Kate was right, he was blind when it came to the people, he was closest to. So distrustful of the world, but those who had his heart were above suspicion.

They sat there for a long while, sitting with everything said and just getting used to being in each other’s company again.

“How is the rest of the family?” Kate asked quietly, finally lifting her head, able to meet his eyes again. “Have they been alright?”

He took a deep breath. Time for some of his own admission of guilt. “They’re all in prison and they’ve been sentenced to hang.”

//I hope this format was okay to follow. I just didn’t want it to be one huge text block of Kate explaining everything.

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #season 4 #cillian murphy #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy fanfiction

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years ago

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Can you do Peggy protecting a teenaged Tony when she happens to be present for a heated argument between himself and Howard?

Oooh, let’s see if I could do this justice.

Of course, the one time she needed the bastard, he was nowhere around. All she needed was his review and signature on the final projects to open up a well-needed branch of S.H.EI.L.D and Howard had disappeared God knows where. He wasn’t home or if he was – he was well ignoring her by this point.

Not that she hasn’t called his phone fifteen times in the last half hour. The last she wanted to do was make the extensive drive to the Stark Manor. Not that she didn’t enjoy the Manor or seeing Jarvis again or even her godson, but she was simply tired after a long day and had looked forward to soaking in a hot tub.

The more she delayed laying in a hot tub, the antsier she got about having to drive an hour out of the way thanks to Howard disappearing from his office.

Sighing heavily, Peggy hoisted herself out of the car and leaned onto her good side as she walked towards the marble steps. She was greeted to a half-opened door and the sight of a train wreck past the entrance hall.

A black sludge was all over the carpet, staining the material, the walls, and oil-coated the bottom of her shoes, causing Peggy to slip and have to catch herself on the wall. She cursed under her breath as she followed the path of this mayhem.

Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good because she could hear Howard’s strained voice yelling already. Really, that man had quite a temper on him.

“-idea of what you’ve done! You’re being selfish!”

“Selfish? Me?! You’re the peek preview of selfishness! Sending your only son off to private school for three years because you didn’t want anything to do with me!” There was a sound of glass breaking and her godson cursing.

“Control that goddamn thing. Why in the hell is it even in here?! I thought I told you –“

“I thought you told me you’d be a better parent his mom died but your sixth scotch of the day says otherwise.”

The sound of skin-hitting skin and heavy glass shattering as Peggy bursting through the office door, barely catching her godson as he stumbled back. Howard stood in front of them, his hand still raised, the bottle of scotch now broken against the wall, and dripping the expensive liquid onto the hard floor.

Tony was already a good foot taller than her in his linky stage, but that didn’t stop Peggy from grasping his shoulders like he was still a child and preventing him from leaving.

“Let me see,” she demanded, tilting his head up with her fingertips, like he was a child and had gotten into his first fight. Her eyes hardened at the sight of the bruise already coming in, Tony’s cheek flushed a shade of red.

“What’s this about, Howard?” She held onto his arm, preventing Tony from leaving despite how he wanted to. She could feel him tugging. “Howard!”

The man looked stunned like he was surprised he’d did such a thing. Slap his own son. He looked from Tony, to Peggy, not one bit surprised she was here.

“This doesn’t concern you, Pegs,” he grumbled, waving his hand towards Peggy, finally regaining himself and sitting back behind the heavy oak desk. “Whatever you’re here for, just leave, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Oh, you will not just do it tomorrow. You’re telling me what the hell is wrong and happened here – enough to hit my godson!”

“Your godson? About the only use he’s got,” Howard mumbled, rolling his eyes. “How’s that leg, Pegs? Still aching yah after you tore your tendon? How’s dear ole Sousa? Still limping around?”

He was drunk and trying to raise her to fight. To get angry. The injury had happened on his watch and Howard had never quite let go of that guilt. She wasn’t out of commission just yet, but the field missions the Director allowed herself on had dropped to zilch.

“Sousa died six years ago and you know it,” she spat, still holding tightly to Tony’s arm. “Why did you slap Tony?”

The answer came in form of something…well, robotic and ugly running between her legs. It looked like a demented baby doll, just minus anything baby doll quality and leaking oil as it ran down the hall. She looked up at Tony who was carefully avoiding her eyes and watched him shrug.

“That thing,” Howard grumbled, capturing her attention. “Destroyed the house and that boy won't’ take responsibility for it. Maria was too soft on him in my opinion. Piece of crap can’t even do-”

“Shut it,” Tony snarled, gritting his teeth and glaring at Howard. “Why don’t you tell her the real reason you’re so piss-ass drunk all the time? The real reason mom died? So she didn’t have to put up with you! Go on, Howard, tell her!”

Howard looked like he was getting ready to punch both of them this time, Peggy unconsciously putting herself between him and Tony. “Shut up.”

“Shut up? Why? So Auntie doesn’t know what a piece of shit you are? So she doesn’t know what the hell you’ve done? Tell her! Or I’m going to – tell her before I do.”

When Howard stood up, throwing the chair back, Peggy shoved Tony to the side and glared at Howard. She took three steps forward and he had enough sense to fall back against the wall, looking green. For one second she thought he was going to vomit up all that expensive amber liquid before swallowing it down.

“I sunk the company.”

“You what?” Peggy breathed, looking from him to Tony for an explanation. “What?!”

“The great Howard Stark, CEO of Stark Industries sunk the company. All that support for your job, Auntie, those deals you depended on, the-the stability, the backup, your business partner ruined. All for his own selfish need! He-he’s only barely surviving from a-a business partner buying it out and taking control.”

Peggy’s breath was caught in her throat. Stark Industries was sunk? Done for? What did this mean for SHIELD? Of course, SHIELD was now at a standpoint where she could run and handle things without Howard’s involvement but still, there was that what if…

“What did you do, Howard?” Peggy’s voice was hard, leaving no room for argument.

“I sent Tony away. He was a-a burden. Maria was dying. Didn’t care. Didn’t want the boy around. Just wanted to focus on…stuff. Focus on-on…” He looked sick again and was digging around in his desk before slapping several sheets of folded paper onto the desk.

Peggy’s fingers snatched it up before Tony could pull it away. A gasp escaped her lips as she read over the paperwork and Tony read over her shoulder.

It was selfish, what she did next, the fury, the anger that filled her. She didn’t even know what she was doing until Howard was knocked against the wall, his nose bleeding from her fist.

“You made a promise to me in 1946 – we made a promise to Steve! To Erksine! And you turned your back for profit?!”

“Not only that – he got angry cause I found his documents on recent travels,” Tony continued, sounding smug. “He let mom die so he could focus on finding Captain Rogers.”

She wanted to cry, to scream, to attack Howard until she felt better but there would be no use for it. “I miss Steve,” she told Howard, feeling Tony’s eyes on her. “I miss him more than you understand but you sacrificing your wife’s, Anthony’s mother for this obsession, Steve would be disappointed in you. Perhaps even hate you. He would not want that. You’re no longer the man Steven remembers and neither do I. I have held too much onto memories and that proves – this proves that you’re too lost to help.”

She turned back to Anthony, nursing the swollen hand to her chest. “You don’t have to stay here. My door is always open for you. I think Mr. Sprinkles has missed you.”

Tony’s lips twitched at her-his old kitten missing him. “I missed him too.” He didn’t even look back at Howard as they left, closing the door behind them. He paused in the entrance hall to hug Peggy tightly to his chest, not knowing what to say.

“Captain Rogers…he wouldn’t have wanted this,” he finally whispered as they parted. “But he’d be proud of you, Auntie. I just know it.”

#Peggy Carter #Steve mentioned #Howard Stark #Tony Stark #Peggy Carter Prompt #Auntie Peggy Prompt #Tw abusive parent #abusive parent #alcoholic #howard is not a good person here #just a warning #he's a piece of shit #nonny prompt

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