#yes yes I know that in the end Withers implies that they fade | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cipheress-to-k-pop · 4 years

Note

Hello there! Can you write hcs for Tim with a demigodess!reader please? Congrats on your 600 followers btw^^

Tim Drake x Demigoddess!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much! So I’m totally dense about greek myths and stuff and I was gonna make her Thor’s daughter at first but then I forgot about that I did Hades but when I remembered it was already written so oh well

You were the daughter of Hades and Persephone

You had kind of a weird childhood

Don’t get me wrong, it was a great childhood

Being princess of the underworld and the daughter of the only sane people in all of Olympus had its perks

But compared to everyone else, it was weird

Hades was extremely protective of you because you were a mortal

Meaning that you could die

The thought of having to greet your soul when you died filled him with so much grief

So, he kept you sheltered, kept you safe

Never letting you lift a finger

As princess you had everything you ever needed and everything your heart desired

Since birth you had been trained by Athena and Aries under your father’s watchful eyes

When you were 16 and you finally wanted to see the rest of the world, you begged your parents to let you go to the mortal world

It took months of begging and when they said no, you’d get so upset that all the flowers in the underworld would wither

Persephone seeing how much you wanted to see the world

So, she convinces Hades to let you go

And he agrees but just as long as you promise to visit

You go to the human world and you’re so oblivious about human life that it’s concerning

Walking around in a floor length dress wondering why everyone else wasn’t dressed the same way

This is how you meet Diana Prince

She recognizes you immediately when you arrive at the Smithsonian, looking mildly confused

Your eyes light up when you see a familiar face

You stay with her for a couple of days before she decides that you’d be better off at the cave

That’s exactly what happens

Even though you whine a little and say you want to stay with her

She just knows it’s because you’re nervous about being in a new place

You know that if you were in any real danger your parents would inflict rage on the mortal world

Feeling mildly comforted at the idea

Diana doesn’t tell them to add you to the group

She just tells them that you need a place to stay and someone to help you find your way around

The first people you meet are Batman, Nightwing and Robin

Immediately being comforted just by looking at them

Batman reminded you of your dad and Nightwing of your mom

And Diana trusted them so you did too

You end up following Tim and Dick around for the next couple of days like a lost puppy

Dick finds it amusing

Tim is kinda unsettled but thinks you’re stupid for some reason

It isn’t until he actually talks to you, he realizes you’re much more profound than he gave you credit for

You don’t officially join the team

You just live there

Everyone thinks that you have no training whatsoever

And that you’re just a princess

Which you technically are but

Until you’re watching them train one day and then remember the days you would spar with Athena

It looked like so much fun

Immediately you wanted to join in

Some of them rolled their eyes and thought you were wasting their time

The others were happy to let you join in

They wanted to make Bart spar you but you looked around contemplatively before pointing at Tim

“If it is alright with you, I wish for you to be my partner.”

Tim blushing because what you said sounded like you were choosing him as a life partner, rather than sparring partner

Of course, Bart teases him for it as well as the others

When Tim walks up to the middle, Dick subtlety tells him to take it easy on you and he nods

The match is over before he can even make a move

You had the speed and strength of a god, it wasn’t a surprise

Not to you at least

To everyone else, kind of a huge surprise

Standing over him and giggling

“I want a rematch.”

“But of course.”

Spending the rest of the day sparring with him

He doesn’t beat you even once

And the others just watch you throw him around for an afternoon

After a while it stops being funny and Nightwing is almost concerned

It kind of hurts his pride but you still acknowledge him

“You know, for a human, you’re very skilled.”

“Uh, thank you?”

After that you go through the other members quite quickly

Some of them gave you a little trouble, like Conner

But you managed to be undefeated

They all think you should join the team after that and you agree

Spending more time with Tim that way

Always talking to him about your family’s history and stuff

Telling him all about your parents love story when he asked to hear about it

You talk so fondly of it and he’s honestly just kind of shocked that Greek Mythology isn’t mythology

I mean, he knew it was real because of Diana

But he never really understood how real these gods were

He falls for you

He loves the way your eyes light up and you smile at him

He loves the way you’re always eager to learn

He loves that you’re so kind and gentle but can also beat people up without even trying

He asks you out but it didn’t go as well as he was hoping

“Do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes, a walk sounds lovely.”

“(Y/N), I like you.”

“Aw that’s so sweet Tim, I like you too, friend.”

Everyone else starts enjoying the way he crashes and burns all the time

And Tim would stop asking usually

But he knows it in his bones that you like him too

But he has no other way to tell you aside from marching up to you and kissing you

Makes that Plan B tho

Plan A is getting you a bouquet of your favourite flowers and telling you that he likes you

Romantically

Not platonically

You grin widely and tell him you like him too

Kissing you just as the sun set that day

It’s one of your favourite memories

His too

Everyone being extremely happy and supporting of your relationship

You can tell Batman is trying to threaten you

But your father is god of the underworld and you have a three headed dog

So, when you and Tim are caught kissing in some hidden crevice in the cave by him and he tries telling you off, you can’t help you smile adorably

“Don’t worry Batman, I have no intention of dishonouring your son.”

Batman is like ???

And Tim is either like “Please don’t speak like we’re in the 1800s.”

or “Please dishonour me.”

He buys you pomegranates as a joke but then you prank him saying that if he eats them, he has to return to the underworld with you

Dick (Nightwing) approves

You like falling asleep in his arms so more often than not you plead with him to stay at the cave and sleep with you

He knows relationships in Olympus generally move a lot quicker so he ends up having to sit you down and explain everything to you so you know his boundaries

Totally accepting them and never going farther than he wants

You appreciate the small things

Like sitting in his lap and eating breakfast

Or being the small spoon

You become the team’s resident couple

Being part of a team, a family is honestly so much fun

Everyone thinking your invincible and practically indestructible

Until one day you’re hurt on the battlefield

Everyone freaking out and getting you back to the cave so you could be treated

The next morning, Tim goes to check up on you and finds something shocking

He’s not sure what to be more surprised by

Cerberus napping at the foot of your bed

Or you crying

Even though the giant, three-headed dog freaks him out, he still sits beside you and asks what’s wrong

“My father demands that I return home. He cannot stand the thought of me being hurt.”

His heart stops

He likes you so much, even bordering on love

And he doesn’t want you to leave

But who was he to stop the God of the Underworld?

Comforting you when you cried, hugging you tightly

“Shh it’s gonna be okay.”

You return home after that and it breaks Tim’s heart

You don’t officially break up but it’s kind of implied because you can never return back to the mortal world

Him being depressed for the next few months but he hides it well

Even though everyone knows how he’s feeling

Things aren’t any better on your end

Your heart aches with every second your away from him

Until one day it happens

Your soul wants to be with Tim

So, it tries to leave your body

You have a heart attack that night and nearly die and it horrifies Hades

He goes all the way to the mortal world to find Tim

Tim doesn’t quite understand how you could have a heart attack from missing him

But is still worried and agrees to go to the Underworld to see you

When he gets there, you’re in so much pain

But once he brings you into his arms you feel sated

When he kisses you, everything fades into a dull ache

Hades wants Tim to stay in the Underworld after that but you argue and tell him to go back to the land of the living

This wasn’t the place for him

“I’ll give up on you, I promise, but you can’t stay here any longer my love.”

“I don’t want to leave your side.”

“I’m sorry, but you know we can’t be.”

Tim goes the next morning and it breaks your heart but you know that it’s for the best

You spend the next few weeks in such sorrow that all of Persephone’s plants die

Hades and Persephone both see how much you love Tim and they are reminded of themselves when they were younger

Making a joint decision to let you go back to the mortal world

But you have to live a long life

That’s the one condition

You running into the cave and crashing into Tim’s arms

Kissing him there and feeling everything go right in the world

You fulfil your parents wish

And live a long, happy life by Tim’s side

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

531 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Purgatorio. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, descriptions of anxiety, briefly implied suicidal thoughts. Word count: 3.2k.

Cold droplets of water run down the curves of your face, falling into the sink with a hushed splash.

The faucet runs in the background. For how long, you do not know. Time doesn’t move and neither do you. Everything is still -- too still -- lending to the impression the only person in this world is you. In a way, that conclusion is close to the truth. This would be paradise, meticulously crafted for your confinement, boasts a modest population of two.

Your hands grip tightly onto the edges of the countertop, knuckles going white from the vise-like grip. The pain you should feel from this tight hold goes unnoticed. Each forced breath is shakier than the last, betraying the intention of steadying your heaving chest. You lift your head. In the mirror, staring back is a figure that faintly resembles your liking. A version that would deceive anyone else into believing it to be you. On a surface level, they’d be correct. None of your features have changed drastically. The eyes that are staring back, though glassy now, are the same eyes you’ve always had in color and shape.

Shaky hands take liberty in splashing water towards your face. With undeterred focus, you direct the water mostly towards your lips, frantically dousing them. Once is nowhere near enough. Twice, three times, four times; nothing can wash away the faint tingling that haunts. This doesn’t deter you. In a trance-like state, you try to wipe yourself clean of impurities, hoping to be pure as freshly fallen snow. The fabric of your shirt is as drenched as you are from the frantic efforts. Thin material clings to you, as does the hair on either side of your face.

You turn the faucet off.

Sinking to the ground, you wish your legs wouldn’t betray you as they do now. It’s a miracle that you even managed to make it here on your own strength. The remnants of your energy have bloomed and withered away, your body no longer capable of supporting its own weight. Tears join in a union with the tap water. It comes out at once. Sobs wrack throughout your body, your shoulders shaking and head hung low. There is but one question that haunts your mind. A question that can no longer go ignored, but when answered, will change the trajectory of everything you’ve come to known. Everything you’ve taught yourself to cope and survive.

When did you stop hating him?

There’s no singular moment that carries the answer, preferable it may be. It was an unobtrusive, slow yet steady descent into apathy. Giorno cornered you, yes, but that was the extent of it. He backed you up against the cliff and stopped there. It was your decision, and yours alone, to make the blind leap. Searching your memories, you look to find the day your animosity faded, your sense of self dying alongside it.

Was it the strained yet casual talks in the morning? The luxurious gifts of diamond-studded jewelry, luxurious outfits, and exotic flowers? When you no longer flinched when overheating his approaching footsteps? Maybe it’s all of that, and more, times you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge yet. All you know is that somewhere along the line, the flames of your disgust flickered, leaving no signs that it ever even existed but ashes. Without noticing what you were doing, your fingers travel to your bottom lip, eyes closing. This would be what served as the final nail in the coffin.

The evening had been a normal one.

Normal. That you had described it that way should’ve served as an omen. It had been just after an uneventful dinner. Giorno promised to take you on a walk through the outdoor gardens, an invitation not so easily rejected. Most if not all of your days were spent in the confines of four walls. The moon, which had just taken the place of the sun, illuminated winding cobblestone paths. Shrubbery of every kind sparsely decorated either side, a visual delight, pale moonlight casting an ethereal glow on each branch. You trailed behind Giorno in a silence he allowed. Lost in thought, taken with the beauty of nature.

It was you who broke the silence. A foolish mistake. “Giorno?”

He turned and looked at you, slightly taken aback that you called for him so easily. That had to have been one of the few instances where his name left your lips, a sweet sound he committed to memory. Mundane as it was for you, Giorno interpreted it as something greater, a welcome evolution. He nodded to signal that you hold his undivided attention. A thought that was on your mind surfaces.

“I’ve been thinking about… things I can do,” you licked your lips, tentative. Giorno eyed your body language closely, and you felt the weight of his stare. “Gardening is what I always come back to. I’d like to grow something, as a way to pass the time.”

Your sentence died out toward the end and turned into a whisper. What a difference there was in your posture compared to his, you noticed. He never doubted himself. Never showed signs of apprehension, always crystal clear on the decisions he needed to make. Where you trod lightly, he went forward with confidence. Silly as it may be, you envied that aspect of Giorno, an aspect that elevated him to a place just out of reach. You wondered if showing more conviction would get you the results you wanted from him.

“I’ll have it arranged so that you can. Was there something, in particular, you’d like to grow?” Giorno asked without missing a beat. Your heart leaped in your chest, encouraged by how well he received your request, and in record time too. It should’ve served as a premonition. At the time, you were more than pleased, and subconsciously took a step towards him. A step closer to your undoing.

“Well, it’d need to be in season… maybe carrots and cauliflower. I’d like to plant things that I could cook later.”

“That’s a good place for a beginner to start. Though I must admit, I never took you for someone who’d be interested in gardening. What brought this on?”

It’s no use. Giorno, tactful as he may be, could see through you as if you were glass. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other. Lying would serve no purpose, he’d notice it. The truth is a frightening concept. How he might interpret your words left room for anxiety. You knew that standing there with sealed lips would be incriminating, and rushed out an unfiltered answer.

“I want to go outside more.”

He peered down at you through thick, blonde eyelashes. Giorno took a step closer to your person, and he frowned at the way you flinched from the sudden movement. The interaction left a bitter taste in his mouth that he sought to be rid of. To understand and deal with a person are two sides of the same coin, both a talent he’s cultivated well. Giorno’s calculating eyes met yours and never left.

“[First]...” your name rolled off his tongue like silk, smooth and deceptively soft. “I’ll see what I can do to make it work. You know I’m partial to anything you ask of me.”

Giorno’s tenderness was palpable, and you ate it up. The illusion of freedom blinded you to reality. He raised his hand and hovered it right above your cheek. Giorno awaited your reaction and tested the waters. When you offered no signs of resistance, he cupped your face. You noticed how his fingers trembled. This unabashed affection was the first of its kind. New to you and him both. You stared up at him, as your heart hammered against your ribcage. A touch that should’ve made you recoil did nothing of the sort. You welcomed it and treasured how human it made you feel.

The change had been so subtle, that you missed it in a blink of the eye. His face grew closer. You could catch the different notes of his signature cologne -- sandalwood, leather, spice -- and the coarse texture of his suit which rubbed against your skin. Giorno was so near, that you felt his warm breath against your face. He looked at you through lidded eyes and sought to close the gap between you. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts and emotions, muddled by the unexpected events. For all of Giorno’s shortcomings, he had never touched you so boldly until then. And you had never let him. There you stood, frozen like a statue, allowing him to do as he pleased.

His lips met yours.

It didn’t register at first. Everything had happened so fast, that your mind struggled to keep up. Giorno’s kiss was chaste, a method to test the waters. To test you. He tasted of the Tartufo di Pizzo he ate earlier, rich and saccharine. When was the last time you were this close to another? That you felt a human’s loving touch, basked in the warmth of their body? You can’t remember for sure. It must’ve been a long time ago, a time before Giorno Giovanna. The moment ended as soon as it arrived. At your lack of reciprocation, he went to pull back. God, it would’ve been so simple if that’s how it ended. If that served as the final chapter. All you had wanted was to feel human again, not like a glorified prisoner in gold bars. That’s the only plausible reason, right? The meager distance between you two was closed again, though it was your lips that met his. Giorno let out a noise of shock, an emotion you were never able to draw out of him until then.

Where he had been soft, you were unrelenting. You kissed him with primal urgency and wove your hands into the strands of his golden hair to pull him close. Giorno was more than pleased to let you do so. The initial stupor wore off, and he matched your fervor with equal tenacity. You’re not sure what exactly was on your mind then. You didn’t know why you did what you did, other than to distract yourself for a moment. How gratifying it had felt then. Giorno held your face in one hand, while the other traveled down to your waist. That eager touch served to pull you back into reality. Almost as if the clock had struck midnight, the spell was broken, and you were left with the undignified truth.

You realized what you were doing. Who it was you had just been kissing, and you staggered back. Eyes wide as a doe, unsure of who the blame was to be placed upon. Giorno had to choose to loosen his grip on you, and you felt every ounce of his hesitance. Those all-knowing, omniscient eyes opened, clearly perplexed. His eyebrows furrowed and lips parted to speak. Before he had the chance to question you, you scampered back into the house. Giorno stood there and watched you depart. His soul stirred. It could’ve been your imagination, but you swore you saw a flash of gold behind you.

Which leads to now.

Seasons change, as do feelings. A fickle thing emotions are. They take the form of liquid, reshaping, and redistributing themselves according to their environment. Never did you envision your loathing transforming into… no, you won’t say it. You can’t. Plans for the rest of the day are up in the air. Maybe it’d do you some good to get rest. Holding this thought in mind, you will yourself to get up, legs unsteady. You make your way out of the master bathroom that connects to your private suite, a luxury that Giorno bestowed. Each step feels heavier than the last. A King-sized bed awaits, silk linens dipping underneath your weight. Sleeping forever sounds lovely right about now. How can you ever face him again? What does he think of you now? Worst of all, why do you care? Throwing yourself onto the bed, you shut your eyes, willing your mind to go elsewhere. Anywhere but that disaster earlier. The chance to do so never comes, much to your chagrin.

There’s a knock on the door.

You freeze, assuming the worst. Heart pounding violently, you search for an explanation, that might explain the person at your door. Maybe it’s the mouse-like staff that tends to Giorno’s estate in the shadows. Rarely do they interact with you, likely at his behest, though it isn’t impossible he’d send them to check up on you. That hope melts when a deep, composed voice speaks up, a voice that you know too well.

“[First]? Are you decent?” Giorno probes, his voice muffled by the closed door. You glance down at your outfit, knowing he’ll have a fair share of questions at your current state. It’d be easier to avoid the confrontation entirely. Easier, but not plausible, you bitterly think. Lord knows he has eyes everywhere. Lying to get around this might serve as a point of contention in the future. So you sigh, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Straightening your shoulders, you place your hands on your lap, hoping to appear somewhat collected.

“Yes, I am.” You confirm after a moment's deliberation. His response is immediate.

“Can I come in?” What an amusing question. Giorno could do whatever he pleases, having the locks to every room in this estate on his person. It’s you who is subject to his every will and whim, you who doesn’t have a true choice in the matter. A thin veil of courtesy hides the viper who waits to strike at your heel. Might as well get this over with, you decide. It’s either now or later.

“You can.”

Giorno opens the door at your confirmation, and you hear the keys jingling like funeral tolls. He’s well put together to the point of frustration, hair set in place perfectly, suit without a wrinkle. You sometimes wonder if Giorno Giovanna is even human and not a deity. Unfortunately, you’ve yet to conclude and are leaning towards the latter. As you expected, his eyes temporarily wander to your soaked appearance, lips pulling into a tight frown. It takes a moment to realize how he might interpret this look. Not to say the thought has never crossed your mind, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I… I, uh, wasn’t trying to drown myself,” you stutter out with an unconvincing smile. He looks to the ajar bathroom door, and back to you with a raised eyebrow. You clear your throat. “You can check yourself. I was freshening up in the sink.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Giorno exhales, adjusting the cuff of his suit. He looks around your sparsely decorated room. Any onlooker might wonder if someone lives here at all. The room is immaculate, no clothes were strewn about, not an item out of it’s assigned place. You realize it’s been a long time since Giorno’s been in your room. Months, even. When you were first brought here, he’d explained to a distraught you what was happening. Speaking about protection, your well-being, how he could take such excellent care of you. At the time the grave words didn’t sink in. You had no idea what turbulent future awaited you then. Is Giorno thinking the same thing? If he is, he doesn’t mention it, returning his focus to you.

“About earlier,” he pauses when you wince. Giorno gives you a second to gather yourself before continuing. “I wanted to apologize. It was inappropriate of me to assume your feelings.”

Assume your feelings? What does he mean by that? The confession stuck out like a sore thumb. You uncross and cross your legs on the other side, unable to sit still. Sure, you’ve grown to be passive in his presence. Even you can acknowledge this. That’s all it is, passivity, not… acceptance. Or worse, reciprocation. Months of combative behavior taught you how exhausting hatred is. Giorno proved that no speech, act, or plead of yours would sway him. You’d have better luck convincing a brick wall. This wording troubles you greatly, and Giorno picks up on it.

He continues. “I misinterpreted your body language and acted without thinking. I saw what I wanted to see.”

Giorno doesn’t make mistakes like that. He’s many things: your kidnapper and sole provider, a merciless Don to those who stand in his way, and a man borderline capable of reading the thoughts of others. You can’t picture a world where Giorno slips up in reading other’s moods. What point would there be in lying to you about this? He saw what he wanted to see, this line repeats in your mind like a mantra. There was an undeniable reason for its inclusion. To make you feel better. An out, a silver lining to keep everything as it was. Giorno didn’t make an error in his judgment, you realize, face paling. I… I do love...

“That’s all I came here to say,” Giorno informs, observing how your face twists from your thoughts. He knows it’s due to him. “I’m sorry for disturbing your evening.”

It feels like arctic water is crashing down on you, frigid and fraying your nerves. Giorno pivots on his heel and turns to leave. You know you should let him. Taking this outstretched hand would be simpler, likely even better for your sake. It’s painful how your stomach churns, how every breath is more difficult than the last. This anguish is a deeply rooted one. Too personal and oppressive to withstand any longer. Let him leave, you think. Just let this be over with.

When have you ever listened to reason?

“Giorno,” you call to him, as you did earlier, voice somehow more delicate than it was then. He turns around, face never betraying his thoughts. Giorno’s impossible to get a read on. Clenching the frame of your bed, your gaze drops to your lap. “You… you didn’t misinterpret anything.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you bite your lower lip. “What I mean to say is… it’s fine.”

You gather enough fragments of confidence to raise your head. Turquoise eyes, rich and expansive as the Tyrrhenian sea, pierce through with an intensity Giorno’s never used on you. Your mind goes blank, and you forget how to properly breathe. He breaks the stun-lock first. It’s rare that you ever see a genuine smile on Giorno’s face, but there’s no denying this one is. He’s quick to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. You feel an odd sense of loss at this.

“I’m glad to hear it.” With that, he retires for the evening, bidding you a final goodnight. Giorno closes the door silently to not disturb you. As per the routine, you hear locks going into place, one after the other. You lose count. Footsteps echo down the hallway, signaling his departure. You’re doubtful Giorno himself is going to sleep, he’s a willing victim to late nights, and can only assume he wanted to offer you time to think.

So you are left here on your lonesome.

Not quite in heaven, and not quite in hell.

#giorno #Giorno Giovanna #giovanna giorno #giorno x reader #yandere giorno #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #yandere jojo x reader #yandere jojo's bizzare adventure #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenario #vento aureo x reader #yandere vento aureo #my stuff #commissions

400 notes · View notes

spice-chan · 4 years

Text

I Wish

Tags : @sacro---sainte @pixxiesdust @ererokii @etegomanere

Word count : 7 k

pairings : Kirishima x reader previous Bakugou x reader

You were kicked out of Bakugo’s majestic and overrated castle. That’s fine, you find your footing somewhere better, and build a future anew with a handsome, shark toothed dragon.

warnings : angst, implied violence, mentions of slavery ( very brief), eventual happy ending.

…...……..

Bakugou has had this thought for a while. A thought that plagued him whenever he laid in bed with you, whenever he strolled in his lavish gardens with you in the dim hours of the night.

This shouldn’t last.

Even as he reluctantly relents to your requests to meet up, spend time together, this thought plagues him. He was a king, and you were not royal, not even of rich descent. You were just...you. He was an ambitious king with plans for generations to come, enhanced senses and powers, a genius among geniuses. You were just a scholar who happened to intrigue him. Who got too close for comfort.

Bakugou, who’s mind was usually logical and unclouded, was seeing the world through rose coloured lenses.

A rabbit, with nothing on her name, and him.

But this was no fairytale, the struggle will just be ripping the bandaid off. Bakugou knows it will sting, but it will fade away with time, just like those ridiculous feelings.

“What is this about ?” You asked vehemently, trying to reason yourself out of thinking that this is true, willing yourself to believe in him.

“It’s exactly what you think.” Bakugou replied carelessly. Apathetically.

It’ll be just like ripping a bandaid off.

So why did it feel like a blue flames’ burn ?

Why did it sting like a snake’s bite ?

Time will tell, but until then, fake it till you make it. Maybe the apathy his face shows will eventually become all that he feels for you.

You just stared at him in disbelief, bottom lip quivering, eyebrows furrowing in a pained glare, sight getting blurrier.

You wanted him to tell you it’s a joke, that you’re the one that he wants to spend the rest of his life with, not a pompous, rich princess from a fairytale like kingdom. You wished he’d take you into his arms and tease you that you ‘liked him that much huh ?’

He rolled his eyes.

You wished he’d express his melancholy at parting ways with you. You wished he’d give you half hearted reasons why he’s marrying someone else. You clung to the hope that he’d lie to you, but he’d done enough lying. He broke every single promise he made to you. Still, you clung to the hope like a tiny child clings to the side of the pool, afraid of the traitorous waters.

“While you’re at it, pack your shitty things and leave, I don’t want to see you here anymore.” He ordered, moving to grab his writing quill and paper.

Writing away as if you didn’t exist.

You wished, but wishes don’t always come true. Your future with him was going to be one of those wishes, made to wither away with time.

You didn’t offer him any words of heart break, he wished you’d at least shout at him, maybe that way he’d hear your voice one last time.

No, the only thing he heard was your footsteps padding away, not even stomping, just softly enough that if his pen fell if would deafen him to the sound of you walking away.

The clock ticked, his door opened. The bandaid ripped.

And you left.

You walked aimlessly on an unfamiliar path. Your eyes looked cold, dead, their bright glow lost along with the faint yellow light in the sky. The grass crunched beneath your feet, and the trees were growing ominously large, their spine looming over you.

But you continued walking, aimlessly, and without direction. But that was the last thing that plagued your mind.

He broke up with you, he kicked you out, without hesitation. You didn’t shed a tear, but you knew the dam was going to burst.

It was your fault for having naive expectations, he was a king after all, and who were you ? A nobody compared to him.

You were probably just a distraction, seeing as he didn’t seem to have a hair out of place when he told you to leave.

You just thought he was above arranged marriages, that he was capable of keeping his kingdom solid without the aid of another. But you supposed the deal wasn’t half bad.

While you were lost in your head, you didn’t notice the camouflaged figures that began to appear around you, slowly forming a caging circle.

A hand clamped around your mouth, silencing your shrieks, while your eyes widened in fright.

You attempted to pry his filthy hands off you, your muffled shouting and crying ringing out with an echo throughout the deadly forest. That is, until the frog like man around you started to laugh, mocking how easy it was to “capture a bunny that will bring them thousands”. You dreaded the implication of their words.

You writhed in futile effort to get away, but your efforts were rewarded when you heard a growl a few feet away. A growl that certainly doesn’t belong to anyone here.

Your eyes glistened in uncertain hope, turning your eyes to look at the approaching stranger.

Now that he was closer, you could clearly see that he was a dragon, his shark like teeth bared threateningly at the man around you, his tall and buff figure dwarfing the strangers around you.

“What are you trying to do to her ?” He questioned, his red eyes holding a bloody promise. Some wouldn’t bother for a mere stranger, but Kirishima wasn’t some. When he heard cackles and distorted crying, he hoped his keen ears were deceiving him, but his eyes testified.

“Nothing, move along.” Spoke the ‘leader’, who kept his hands around your mouth, his bravado was crumpling though, his hands were growing lax, but he still tried to keep the situation in his favor. Futile effort.

You shook your head desperately, your eyes bleeding his, watching them turn grim.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Close your eyes, you might not wanna see this!” He suggested way too cheerfully, giving you another look at his dragon teeth.

Nevertheless, you heeded his advice, closing your eyes tightly, the darkness slightly comforting, however, the loss of sight amplified your other senses, and you were once again painfully aware of the grimy hand pressed against your mouth.

With your eyes shut, you missed Kirishima’s throat turning red as he conjured fire, the blistering rage leaving his throat and burning the man holding you. You quickly moved away when the hand left your mouth, but kept your eyes closed when you heard a painful screech. The fire of a dragon being the purest and most potent of its kind quickly transformed the man to ash.

You opened your eyes to see the remains of the man flying around the forest, disappearing into nothing along with his presence. By that point, the circle that previously surrounded you was obsolete, the cowards having fled to save their life.

You felt sick, having never witnessed something like this before, but you eased the guilt by reminding yourself that this man was going to sell you, make you a slave for some perverted and cruel old owner. Maybe even put you in a brothel with no escape. You should have been more careful, but now the lesson was seared in your head.

You could remember the barbaric laughs that rung all around you, finding humor in stealing your life, your future. They thought your struggle for freedom was comical.

They deserve to die, you bet they caused many others to wish they could. The life of slavery was a hard, inescapable one. The life of sex slaves even more so.

They deserve to die.

They do.

But that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning painfully, for your mind to keep replying the events in a loop, making you feel lower then dirt, even if you shouldn’t.

You felt nauseous.

You saw the dragon approach carefully, and despite your sickened state, you willed yourself to look at him.

“Thank you for helping me.” You said, giving him the best grateful tone you could muster.

It felt like an invisible weight was lifted from your shoulders when you saw him smile, but the sharpness of his teeth still served as a reminder of what he’s capable off.

He approached you slowly, tentatively, as if scared you might suddenly flee. Being a former knight, he was well trained into how to use his fire powers and such, so he made sure not to hurt you, but he was sure that something like that might be traumatizing for you, but it was the fastest way to ensure your safety.

When he stopped in front of you, you could clearly see his intimidating height, he towered over you, but it was hard to find him scary with that smile he sported.

“Hey, I’m sorry about that, are you ok ?” He questioned in a low voice, attempting not to sound intimidating. He visibly exhaled when he saw you nod.

“What are you doing here at night all alone ? Are you trying to reach the town ? I can escort you there.” He tried to berate you for your carelessness, but he saw how shaken you looked, so toned he down the scolding. He saw how the soft rabbit ears you had were droopy, the fluffy appendages signifying your mood.

“I don’t know where I’m going.” You confessed.

A minute passed, carrying the ongoing silence with it as you nervously fidgeted.

“Huh ?” Came the dragon’s dumbfounded response.

You lifted your head, your eyes looking up at him blankly.

“You heard me.” Came your brisk reply.

Kirishima furrowed his brows, trying to formulate a reply that wouldn’t offend you or worsen your state, but the frown on his lips showed how much progress he was making in that regard.

A chilly breeze swept past the area, making you feel frozen, even your bones felt iced. The forest was suddenly wider then ever, and you were suddenly just alone as you had been when you were 7. The moon shone, but it didn’t provide any light.

Your throat felt clogged, you tried to snap your self out of it, to say you were ‘fine’, and that ‘yes, I am going to town’. But the words wouldn’t come out, the lies refused to leave your lips.

Because no, you weren’t alright, the man you loved, the man you helped win wars, the one you woke up every morning wondering what the day held for the two of you, the one you sometimes spent leisurely nights with, planning your future, and making promises to love faithfully despite his flaws; is marrying someone else.

He said he doesn’t care that you aren’t royal, told you to stop pestering yourself with those troublesome thoughts, because he belongs to you and only you. But he lied, he strung you along, then told you to leave. Callously showed you the truth in a letter he wrote accepting to marry a princess from a prosperous land.

It felt like the weight of the world was sitting on your heart, crushing the already bruised organ.

A breeze came by again, but your face felt especially cold. You lifted a hand up, softly touching your face and feeling wetness coating it.

Oh... you were crying.

A hand clasped your shoulder, squeezing assuringly. He more or less got the picture.

“Let it out, it’s ok.” He said. You felt overwhelmed by the kindness of a complete stranger, and -

the dam broke.

Your shoulders shook violently, tears streamed down your face in endless waves, and just when a wave crashed against the shore, another, more powerful one replaced it.

The man enveloped you in a hug, his warmth cocooning you tightly, making the looming trees seem shorter and meeker, and the biting wind a little less cold. You stained his clothes, but whenever you tried to force yourself to talk amidst your tears, to apologize to him, to thank him, he would shush you and tell you to talk later.

Eventually, the onslaught of tears died down to harmless hiccups. Even tears were turbulent, and emotions were sometimes out of control, but the warmth of a complete stranger anchored you.

And when the hiccups stopped, you had a feeling that the everything will be alright.

.....

“- and he told me to leave and never show him my face again.” You finished with red rimmed eyes. The man, who you learned was called Kirishima, nodded in understanding, but his eyes help a solemn anger towards that pompous jackass. Your heart hardened at the memory of your ex lover, remembering his emotionless face as told you to read it. Knives stabbed into your heart as you remembered the words of his letter, how willing he was to set himself a wedding date even though you were the one that always stood by him and offered him endless support and love.

You ground your teeth in frustration, anger taking root where the sadness festered. But the ambers of the fire illuminating the rubies in front of you smoothened it out.

“He reeks of douchebag, totally unmanly. You’re better off without him.” Kirishima said, nodding to himself in agreement.

It was beyond his imagination how someone could not only do that, but take your home away from you for his own convenience.

“Do you have a place to stay ?”

You sighed, shaking your head. You had no one. He knew you had no one. Nowhere.

“That’s fine ! You can stay in my cave with me, I’d love some company !” He exclaimed cheerfully, trying to put you at ease. Truthfully, he really didn’t mind the company. After he quit being a knight to indulge in his natural instincts, he found an uninhabited cave, as mature dragons often do, and begun hoarding in it. The cave is meant to eventually be their own family home until the hatchlings reached a mature age and moved to their own caves.

Kirishima was trying to memorize how to get to his cave by foot, and he was glad he chose today, otherwise he didn’t want to think about what could have happened to you. You seemed like a really nice person, and regardless, nobody deserves to be taken advantage of.

He didn’t know where this sense of protectiveness came from, it could be his knight instincts making a reappearance, but he didn’t want you to get hurt at all.

He could help you get back on your feet, after all, there’s nothing that Kirishima loves more then seeing people smile in true happiness, and he has yet to see yours. He somehow felt sure it will be enchanting. But you were frowning now and looking all mopey and sad so he can’t tell.

“Would you like me to shish kebab something for you ? Food always helps me ! I can shish kebab a deer or a chicken, or a rab- no thats cannibalism for you right ? Uhh I can roast some carrots !” He rambled, watching as your stare got more and more weirded out. He started to feel self deprecating knowing he probably made you feel worse.

You laughed at his attempt to cheer you up, your mood lightening up by his intentions alone. You saw him go quiet and thought you’d better talk before he thought he weirded you out.

“You know what, I think I did bring some comfort carrots with me.” You said, reaching for your bag and pulling out some peeled carrots in a container. You gave the container to him, trying to muster a smile, although it probably looked awkward.

He seemed to brighten up, his dragon teeth making a reappearance as he grinned at you while enthusiastically taking the carrots from you.

“You can shish kebab the carrots, or whatever it is.” You said awkwardly, having never paid attention to those foods before.

He pulled out some stickes from his own bag, sticking it in the middle of the carrot so he can roast them comfortably.

Rabbit food, but he was too tired and cautious to haunt.

The carrots were clumsily made, but they tasted sweet after the roast, Kirishima appreciated the taste, although he still wanted meat. You, on the other hand, had your comfort food, but it felt like sandpaper as your mind kept replying the events of the day. Just yesterday, you felt like you had the world in your palm.

Everything passed by in a blur, you finished eating and then started walking, because sleeping here in dangerous.

You could see a faint trickle of light as the previously black sky begun turning into navy blue, and only then did you arrive to his cave. The cave that looked so high to seemed to be touching the clouds.

“If you tell me we are climbing that I’m going back to the forest.”

“Whaaat ?! No, no, I’ll fly us up there no problem !” He declared making your eyes widen in fright.

“No what the heck ?! You’ll destroy the trees !” You exclaimed in shock, unable to believe he’d be so willing to shift here and damage the beautiful trees.

His eyes widened, he shook his head rapidly while he rushed to explain “No ! I can semi transform, don’t worry.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, suddenly seeing Kirishima in a new light. It takes an extreme amount of practice and mastery for a dragon shifter to do that. God, you really hope he doesn’t kidnap you. Maybe this was unwise, but you really wanted to sleep, and the streets were just as dangerous for all you know.

Kirishima impressively sprouted wings from his back, two horns grew on his forehead, and his skin pigmentation turning red, a clue to his dragon colour.

He carried you and flew up to his cave in ease, enjoying the familiar rush of air as he soured up to the sky, and the warm comfort of being back to his abode.

He saw the wonder in your pretty eyes as you took in the place, your eyes lingering on his massive hoard, whipping your face to him as you pointed a finger in its direction.

“You gathered all that ?!” You asked, making Kirishima puff up his chest proudly, who nodded at your question. Said hoard contained jewels unseen by the eyes of many in their lifetimes. It contained gold, rubies, emeralds, hand carved rings and hand made necklaces. Among many others.

Immeasurable to the untrained eye, but Kirishima knew everything about his hoard, down to the most minuscule jewels, because a dragons hoard is a sacred thing, a part of them, one could say.

But while every piece is cherished, one is irreplaceable. Kirishima walks over to his hoard, digging seemingly aimlessly, until he pulls out a golden ring with a ruby jewel incrusted in the middle, the first handmade jewel made by him, and the heart of his hoard. Without it, Kirishima would go crazy.

The ruby, which still shone immaculately, was his birth jewel given to him by his father.

He put it own, suddenly feeling content and safer with the weight of the familiar ring on his finger.

You looked on curiously, thinking that the red of the ruby complemented him pretty well, it brought the colour of his eyes out.

“It’s very pretty, did you make it ?” You questioned, peering at him inquisitively.

He nodded vigorously, moving his hand unconsciously to let you admire his ring better.

“I made all of those”

You did read something about dragons being hoard enthusiasts, you just didn’t imagine it’s to this extend.

Kirishima offered you some feather blankets to make your night more comfortable while you slept. Soon, you slumbered peacefully, feeling more content and safer then you have this whole day.

Life was more... anticlimactic after that day. But it a good way. You lived with Kirishima, due to his insistence and your situation, he persisted saying that you can stay with him as long as you need until you get your life back together.

He took you down the next day, as per your request, and escorted you to the town. He went to do his own thing, something about meeting old friends, while you searched for a job.

The town was full of all sorts of people, from mages to shifters, it was a very diverse place, you could even see some rabbits like you here and there. Back at the castle, there was a few rabbits that worked in logistics and the like, you were among them, as rabbits were great and distinguished problem solvers and thinkers.

Being a genius among already intelligent rabbits, you were given the opportunity to study at the age of 9 in the castle, and work there, which you did, but you guessed now you weren’t needed anymore.

Before you could get desponded, you walked around, taking the place around you but still careful not to get lost and stray to far from the meeting place.

You saw someone exist a place with two thick books clutched tight to their chest. You glanced at the door behind them, seeing an ‘open’ sign. You stopped in your tracks.

You could start there.

You pushed the door open, hearing a bell jingle, alerting a bespectacled tall man of your presence.

It was a large library, and from what you could see, there was only the man in front of you working, while a couple of others sat in the seating area reading quietly.

You approached him, making him smile politely and adjust his glasses which slipped down the bridge of his nose.

“Can I help you miss ?” He asked, his back straight as a rod.

“Yeah um, are you possibly hiring ?” You replied, getting straight to the point. He faltered for a moment, before contemplating quietly.

“I suppose it is incredibly hard to manage on my own...” he murmured.

“Very well then, can you come back tomorrow around this time ?”

You kept your excitement at bay as you reunited with Kirishima later on, who didn’t question you, assuming you came back with no luck.

This time, he made you fly on his back as he lead you back to his cave, and only when he came back did let the excitement take over. You put rationality on hold for a moment, overtook by the moment, and tackled him in a hug, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Kirishima felt the wing knocked out of him, hugging you back awkwardly as he felt his face flush. ‘Damn, what happened ?’

You practically heard unasked question, and decided to elaborate.

“I got a job, and it was the first place I walked into ! It’s in a library.” You gushed. You liked libraries.

Kirishima’s cheeks quirked up, his eyes looking at you proudly, “I knew you could do it ! You’re so manly !” He gushed excitedly.

Manly ?...

“Huh, manly ?”

“Yes, To be manly you have to have a resilient spirit and courageous heart !” He explained, making you nod. Although you doubted his meaning, it was endearing, he was a pretty quirky dragon.

“Guess I’m pretty manly.” You mused.

...........

A while after working at the library, you managed to feel like you were finally getting back on your feet. You still think about Bakugo sometimes, and it still hurts, but the wound was scabbing, and the hurt was no longer threatening to pour out.

Throughout all of this, one thing was constant: Kirishima.

You will forever wonder what compelled him to offer his kindness to you for so long, but you will forever be grateful to him. When your heart was threatening to harden and ice over, he was be there to bring you warmth and melt it away, like a gentle flare he can breath out so effortlessly.

You never experienced having a friend like that, but you can admit that Kirishima was the best friend you ever had. He was different, but the more differences, the more things you can appreciate and learn about. He was not a man to shy away from helping someone, a quality he told you was hard earned; it’s something he had to implement into himself.

And when the moment came that you can move out, you didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

It almost felt like you were leaving your second home.

“What ? But you don’t have to go !” Kirishima said, quite loudly, that it bordered on shouting. He felt himself getting agitated, and his dragon become unsettled at the thought of you leaving. You don’t have to go.

“But, I’ve intruded long enough, I can’t take advantage of your hospitality any longer.” You coaxed, feeling yourself become upset too at seeing Kirishima’s frown. You never saw him so upset, he was always your cheerful, manly pillar.

“But you’re not intruding, I can’t even remember what it was like to live in this cave without you.” He persisted. But you had to stand your stance on this.

“You know I’ll still visit you, right ?”

His shoulders slumped, sighing, before nodding his head reluctantly.

It felt like he was parting away from his hoard for good, but he had to remember that you aren’t cutting ties with him. His adorable, bunny friend will still be around.

And so, you guys hugged goodbye, but with a promise of seeing each other.

He helped you move your stuff over to your new place, a small sharing house, you and one roommate. You accumulated quite a few things during your stay with Kirishima, along the things you took from ... that place.

Now, you got your own place, your own job, and an amazing friend, life was finally back on track, although very different from what you previously thought It’d be, this one somehow reminds you that you are still self sufficient, and even if a jerk didn’t see the point in having you around, you’ll still live a much better life then he can imagine. Even through the simplicity of it. And that, will be the best revenge.

A few months prior however, a certain hotheads mind wasn’t as lackadaisical about your parting as one would presume.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck

Did he really have to do that ?

Bakugo can remembers the heartbroken and betrayed look on your face and grimaces. He lost you forever now, didn’t he ?

Just like ripping a bandaid off, but it feels like his own heart was ripped out.

He stared at his wall, replaying his words.

He looked at his parchments, the courting letter he made you read flashes before his minds eye.

He tries to sleep, he remembers your adorable figure huddled up to him, demanding him to share his warmth, even though your own was so powerful, it seeped through to his very own blood.

He’s a king, he should behave like it and cut out those child like fantasies.

But then he thinks back to how he imaged you’d look ruling beside him. He always thought you’d look like a goddess with a crown adorning your head and a thron-

Bakugo grabs the nearest object, and throws it across the room, the chosen vase, unfortunately, shatters to it’s demise, it’s previous shape nearly unrecognizable, some pieces were so small, they were almost powder.

Bakugo grabs something else, throwing mindlessly, a beast who lost his sense of reason. He chose what he wanted to do, but his heart was protesting, urging him to go and fix things with you, to kiss you and tell you that you’re the only one for him.

Words that he spoke before, but didn’t live up to.

He looked at his room, panting in the wake of destruction.

Glass shards filled the floor, ink littered it, and blood was splattered, and Bakugou could vaguely feel a sting on his feet and hands, he wasn’t even what just occurred.

The servants cleaned it, and he finally managed to sleep, albeit restlessly.

When he woke up, a couple of hours earlier then he usually would, he sent for the butler, checking whether you were still here.

His heart fell when he heard that you left last night.

Fuck. Fuck. “Fuck.”

Where did you even go ? Bakugo processed the weight of his cruel actions. He sent you away from your only home, where was he expecting you to stay ? Was he stupid ? God, he must be a new, downgraded breed because what dickhead in their right mind would do this to the women they love ?

His chest ached, he urgently sent guards to the nearby forest and all neighboring places to look for you.

While they were busy, he busied himself with something of his own. He crabbed his quill and a paper, writing an apology letter and cancellation of the wedding. He doesn’t want to marry some pompous princess, and he certainly doesn’t really need to. He only needs you, with your support, he can achieve more then what a measly partnership through marriage can give him-

“We found no trace of her, my king.”

- but he’d already written you off his future.

A heavy weight pressed against his chest. If only he can do things over.

And a month later, he married a princess whose name he didn’t even bother to know.

He saw you you in every corner of the walls, he saw your nose buried in a book in the library, saw your eyes as the moon shone down on you. Even the flowers in his garden remind him of how they looked tucked on your ear.

His ... wife, he supposes, although he despised calling her that, was just as pompous, bratty and arrogant as he assumed. But her kingdom was powerful, now he can reap the benefits, hooray.

She always tries to get him in her bed ( Bakugo couldn’t share a room with her, a requested a separate room a week after they wed) and looks down on anyone, declaring them beneath her and not worth her time with an egocentric huff and an eye roll.

You’d never do that, you were always so compassionate.

The familiar weight pressed down even harder.

He wonders how you’re doing now. Are you happier without him ? Or are you still pining like he is. Did you... find someone else, God, he hopes not, as selfish as it is.

Just like ripping off a bandaid, he thought.

Which brings us back to here.

You sat on your bed, exhausted, but feeling as rejuvenated as ever. This is the first time you lived truly alone, and while is was slightly lonely, it gave you the feeling of freedom you never had back in the castle, or with Kirishima.

You felt like you wanted to take advantage of that, but instead you opted to sleep.

You slowly but surely adapted to your new routine, waking up, doing your shift, visiting Kirishima when you can, and spending the rest of the day lounging at home. Utterly mundane, and your roommate disapproves.

You weren’t exactly close to her, she spent her mornings somewhere unknown, and her nights partying, only coming home to sleep and eat.

Somehow, even though you moved out from Kirishima’s cave, it felt as if you’d gotten closer.

His red hair and crimson eyes made your heart do flips, and his toothy smile caused your stomach to do summersaults. It was a familiar feeling, it caused your heart to ache with a familiar warmth, but the organ was bruised.

Kirishima felt close to you, but so unreachable, he was a free spirit, who where you to bind his wings ?

So, this caused you to do the stupidest, and most cliche move ever. Yes, you avoided him. You stopped going to see him, bringing him trinkets.

God knows you missed his virile musk and familiar warmth, you missed even lounging on top of his hoard, something he insisted on you doing whenever you went to choose a spot to indulge in reading.

You used to compare him to Bakugo a lot, used to sometimes miss the blond man through Kirishima’s actions, but the moment you stopped doing that, the moment you thought about Kirishima whenever you pictured a future, it should’ve warned you, but you were too busy turning to an apple whenever he caught your stare and -

No. “Stop that” you muttered to yourself, putting away the last book in the return pile to it’s

section.

“Good work for today, (L/N) !, see you again tomorrow !” Exclaimed your employer, Iida, making you smile and nod as you walked, leaving the bookshelves behind you and bidding the bespectacled man behind the counter goodbye.

You opened the door, hearing the jingle that you became accustomed to as you closed the door behind you. You only managed to take two steps before your feet were lifted off the earth.

You gasped, instinctively hitting randomly, but relaxing your muscles when you heard a familiar voice.

“Heeey, no need for violence, or did you forget me already !” Although his tone was cheerful, there was a slight bitter note in it that you couldn’t ignore of laugh off.

“How could I forget you, Eiji ?” You replied sombrely, glancing but at him with a small smile, which didn’t manage to fully brighten the seriousness your eyes.

Eiji held on tightly to your midsection as he flew you guys up towards the sky, and it felt like he was carrying you to heaven. The pedestrians nearby stared in astonishment at what seemed to be something akin to an abduction. It happened way to fast for the moment to have been real.

Eiji brought you so high, everyone else looked to be the size of ants, their existence irrelevant, but coexisting with yours and Eiji’s. Everything below looked so unimportant, but the hands around you kelt you rooted to reality as wind whipped through your hair, and his muscular chest pressed against your back, making you scared of making the slightest movements that could shatter the moment.

Suddenly, the landscape beneath you was scrapped and replaced with rippling blue waves and sand. The blue looked so pure and unadulterated, that when Eiji brought you closer to it, you kept almost see your reflection. What a reflection, wide eyes with a mouth to match, and a sexy hunk staring back at you through the glacier mirror. You brought a finger down, touching the water and creating a small, unnoticeable ripple in the huge ocean, afraid of touching it with your whole palm and tainting it’s purity. A small white ripple as you flew was the only fleeting evidence that you ever made contact with something so divine.

How ethereal beauty is, Kirishima mused. He wasn’t about to let you be ethereal in his life though, because although enchanting, you stumbled upon him to stay.

Eventually, he landed down on the sand, putting you down to your feet gently, but already missing your contact.

You guys sat down, uncaring whether your clothes got sand all over them.

Kirishima didn’t try to mask his displeasure anymore, frowning at you grumpily.

“Care to explain why you’ve been avoiding me you silly bunny ?” He asked. The ocean continued to coexist beside you, but Kirishima was once again the only existence you cared about.

You felt the urge to pour your heart out to him, the words traveling from your brain, down to your vocal cords and to the tip of your tongue, and before after-thoughts could plague you and render you voiceless, you took the plunge.

“I like you, no scratch that, I love you.” You confessed, your eyes looking away from his, missing the crimson becoming as intense as a volcano at your confession. You loved him too ? A feeling so euphoric traveled through Kirishima, his fantasies of a future with you were now more than mere fantasies.

Your nervousness spurred you on, making you grab one of your fuzzy ears and caressing it as heated words came out like word vomit. You spoke and spoke, but Kirishima remained silent.

Suddenly, he lunged at you ferociously, stealing the very words from your mouth.

He brought his lips to yours, kissing you roughly yet passionately, as if he was pouring all his repressed desires into locking lips with you. His slightly chapped lips created just the right amount of friction as amorous sounds filled the otherwise empty ocean around you. You brought your hand to the back of his head and pulled him closer, taking his bottom lip and sucking on it gently, and he understood your cue, opening his mouth to let you kiss him deeper.

It felt before like you stood up steady in the dark, finding your footing after stumbling, now, it was like the whole world was being showcased in a clear white light.

You moved back to Kirishima’s cave, his words being ‘no mate of mine is going go be staying far’, you had to complaints. Finally, you can call this familiar place your home. While Kirishima used to be something of a freelancer, he eventually opened his own jewellery store, as per your suggestion. It became incredibly prosperous, but nothing can compare to the incredible jewels of his hoard. Or the incredible mating gift he gave you, a more feminine version of his ruby ring, hand made by him, every time you looked at your hand, you remembered his eyes and a rush of happiness would coarse through you.

Although the income was pretty high, Kirishima would never leave his cave, it was already humongous, so it wouldn’t have trouble fitting family. The business was only there to provide for your future kids with no trouble.

And as another year went by, a hatchling joined your little family. It was a baby boy with black hair and red eyes. Kirishima eventually told you that he wasn’t really a red head, but you could already spot the black roots showing so it wasn’t any surprise. You assured him that his natural hair colour was already manly. He never died his hair again. The baby boy, Eito sprouted wings at the age of two, and managed to fully shift then. Quite early, bit we made do.

The process of teaching him how to fly was frightening for you and Eito though.

You had to have him shift, then throw him off , kind of like teaching a bird how to fly.

Eiji waited down just in case, but your nervousness vanished when Eiichi flapped his wings and soared.

A year later, you gave the three year old Eito a baby sister. A gorgeous baby with red eyes and your (h/c).

Finally, the huge nest Eiji created could be out to use.

.......

Bakugo finally found a reason to divorce his wife after a year of marriage. He found her giving the head night flirty looks, and his suspensions were later confirmed when he caught them in bed in her chambers.

The divorce was quite swift as her kingdom sought to keep the shameful scandal under wraps.

Now, Bakugo could mask in his memories of you in peace.

Four years passed by in a blur for Bakugo. It’s been five years since he last saw you, and weight on his chest didn’t get any lighter. It still hurts to think about the future he scrapped, the things he could’ve been doing with you had he not gotten arrogant and decided marrying a princess was better than pursuing his future with you.

He never searched for you again after that night, you’re better off without him. What would he say to you anyway ?

He’s pathetic, still pining after a woman who he hasn’t seen in 5 years.

........

Bakugo was in a nearby village, looking for any suspicious activity relating to the recent abductions. He wasn’t required to be here, but he had nothing better to do. He’s always at the top of his work.

He walked around, straining his senses to try and capture anything conspicuous or otherwise.

He eventually found himself at a tiny playground for kids. Although by the time he arrived there, the sky was painted a hue of orange, and the park was empty save for one lone figure on a swing. He would have turned around, but he was out for anything, and being at a kids park was slightly odd.

He looked at the figure, and his throat felt as dry as a Sahara. His heart palpitated wildly when he saw your familiar figure parched on a swing cooing at a bundle in your arms.

He always thought imagined what you’d look like with a baby in your arms, but seeing it now caused him un imaginable pain. His heart burnt, as if a dagger coated with poison kept stabbing him time and time again.

Before he knew it, his feet carried him over to you, and now his shadow loomed over your figure.

You looked up, your pupils shrinking upon seeing his familiar face, hooded with a pessimistic sheen. You’ve never seen him look like this, even when he kicked you out, its a foreign look on his face, like looking at a piece of art you’ve long given up on.

“(Y/n), is it yours ?” His strained voice asked, so softly, if could have disappeared with the passing wind. He was staring at you, his vermilion eyes seeing yours for the first time in years. You’d gotten even prettier.

“Yes, her name is Eiko.” His heart dropped at your answer. You seemed fo live her a lot, you probably loved her father a lot too. A pang went through him at the thought of the lucky bastard.

He looked down at the girl, he could pretend for a moment that her red eyes were his.

How ironic for your daughter to have the same - or at least similar - eye colour as him.

It’s definitely a slap in the gut when he sees a dragon’s mating mark on your neck, and then to see said dragon himself.

“Heey babe, I got you crepes !” He said, kissing you on the cheek as if you’re the only person he sees. Which is proven when he say Bakugo and frowned, turning to you.

“Babe, who’s that ?” He asked innocently, making Bakugo grind his jaw. His head felt shaky when he saw a short boy come out from behind his dad’s legs. He looked a lot like his father. You had what seemed to be the picture perfect family.

“It’s nobody Eiji.”

#bakugou katsuki fanfics #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha fanfiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima imagine #bnha kirishima #dragon!kirishima #fantasy bnha #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro x reader

555 notes · View notes

nyctolovian · 4 years

Text

this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

This was written for @tma-safehouse-fest day 3-5 prompt (pining). But its sorta a dedication to the way the romance is written cos jon and martin legit try so hard to make things work :’ Please enjoy it!!

Summary: A study of Jon's love for Martin and why he kept it. (set in S4)

link to AO3

Jon knew exactly what this was—pining. Very useless and painful pining.

He was surprised by how quickly he recognised it. Less emotionally constipated people have taken longer to notice their romantic feelings for another. It was all rather strange and hilarious, if you asked him. (But he’d heard plenty of people criticise his sense of humour so he suggested you take this opinion with a pinch of salt.)

During the first few months in the hospital, despite his coma, he heard Martin—sensed him even. He noticed Martin not in words, though Jon knew he was being spoken to, but in presence and genuineness. And he came often, and would always be exuding tender care. Then, his presence began to dwindle with each passing visit, before it dropped off altogether.

Jon didn't (or couldn't, given his unconscious state) think much of it. Then, while asking Basira about what happened in the Unknowing, he was abruptly reminded of him—Martin, where was he? How was he?

Then, came the first thing he would Know after becoming an Avatar. Jon was overwhelmed with the somehow already deep-seated knowledge that he had feelings for Martin, something that had apparently been left brewing like wine in his chest during his Not-Death.

Almost immediately after he came to this realisation however, he was also struck with the fact that he hadn't been visiting lately. Not within the last month. Suddenly, cold dread that Martin didn't care about Jon anymore thrummed in his chest. Had their affections missed each other? Like two fleeting trains on opposite sides glancing off one another?

No, Jon was to learn that it was much worse. Martin was working for the Lonely.

Jon's chest tightened with worry at the thought. What was he doing? Didn't he know working for any of the Fears was bad news? Jon didn't want Martin to be put in danger like this. He didn't want Martin to become… like him, whatever that meant—not human, trying hard to be not-monster…

The dread expanded in his chest when he finally saw Martin. The sheer relief he had felt when he first set his eyes upon Martin could easily set him afloat. He had lost a little weight and grown slightly pale, but he was still alive and well nonetheless, cupping a mug of tea and wearing his usual large faded sweaters.

Jon, on the other hand, must have looked awful with his coma-induced haggardness and messy bun.

When Jon called out to Martin, a look of shock passed over his face at the sight of the man. His eyes darted down to Jon's outfit.

Self-consciously, Jon fiddled with the sides of his ankle-length skirt. His usual clothes had been more or less destroyed by his numerous kidnappings and near-deaths so he had to get new ones. He had made the decision to ditch professionalism entirely and gone for 100% comfort as a petty rebellion against the institution he was trapped within. Unfortunately, his outfits of choice resembled that of a little old Grandma, he belatedly realised.

When he glanced back up nervously, Martin's initial shock was already plastered over with composure. Cheekily, however, the Eye had let Jon Know that Martin's glances were rather appreciative ones and that sent his heart fluttering uselessly.

This short interaction replayed in Jon's mind for days and days, and he found himself drenching in mortification. Every interaction after that too. He would find himself thinking back to it and regretting his every word and twitch. (Not seeking Martin though. He never regretted seeking him.) And after the first sting of embarrassment subsided, he was left with the gentle aftertaste of his pining. To be frank, it was a bitter thing, as expected of something left brewing as long as it had.

He often found himself lying in bed, bolster held tightly against his chest, imagining Martin in his arms. And he'd feel a pang of pain. One that could only be relieved by the warmth of another.

Pining was not something Jon was familiar with. He was not the type to develop crushes to begin with. On the off chance he did, however, he had always been quick to stamp out the first flames of affection, with Georgie as the only other exception. Thus, the pain of yearning for someone you could only watch and think about from afar was incredibly foreign to Jon.

It was pathetic. It was embarrassing. It was unbearable.

But he cradled it in his palms, gently cherishing, refusing to let drop. Anyone who so much as implied that this feeling was something he couldn’t help would be dead wrong.

Jon chose Martin.

He had decided for himself—vowed it to whatever sick god that was watching him—that he was going to love Martin. He found the nascent affection growing in his chest and chose to keep it, let it bloom, chose to foster it even. He saw the red string of fate on his pinky and stubbornly wound it around his wrist, twice, thrice, over and over, tethering himself to this stupid love against all rationality.

He wasn't letting go.

He wasn't letting go of Martin.

Because everyone seemed to think he was gone, lost to doing the Lonely’s bidding. Not Jon. When Martin reassured him that he was doing everything for their sake, to protect them, Jon wholeheartedly believed those words. Martin wouldn’t do anything to hurt them. He didn’t just Know this; Jon trusted him.

But if Martin kept giving and giving, what would be left of him by the end? Surely somebody had to give something back. Jon couldn’t just watch him wither away into nothingness under the aegis of the Lonely.

Who was going to pull Martin out of the Lonely when it's time for him to return? (Surely he would come back. He'd come back when this was all over. He had to.)

Jon knew it had to be himself. Because Jon loved Martin, and loving him was the most natural thing to do. And, by god, Jon was fighting tooth and nail till his body fell apart to protect this.

If he had to die to keep his love, he would.

***

“Uh,” Martin muttered. “Jon, I, uh, I appreciate this but um…”

Jon looked down at their interlocked hands, not quite registering.

“I have to open the door.”

“Oh.” Jon’s face heated. “Oh. Yes, of course.” Reluctantly, he released Martin’s right hand, shivering as he did so. This was the first brush of cool air against his now-sweaty palms in hours.

He hadn’t noticed how long they had their hands linked like this. They must have been holding hands since their reunion inside the Lonely’s realm. He had been so petrified of losing Martin again that he had clasped his hand in an almost-death grip while he navigated through the mists and fogs.

Yet, Jon found himself missing the contact already. It hadn’t even been three seconds and already Jon was longing for Martin’s touch like a needy child. His fingers were growing cold and his heart was palpitating with the ferocious urge to just grasp Martin’s hand and superglue it to his. Never in his life had he ever felt this possessive but he really couldn’t be blamed after losing so much.

As soon as Martin got his front door to open though, he turned to look at Jon with the most tender smile, and held his left hand towards him. “How about we switch hands? My other one’s gotten quite moist.”

The warmth that swelled in Jon’s chest was a ridiculous thing but he quickly snatched up that offered hand anyway.

It was stupid, trying to pack clothes into a suitcase with two hands of two different people, but they somehow made it work. And when it was Jon’s turn to pack his bag, they allowed the same silly process to repeat itself. And if they shared a hug in the middle of the living room, no one would ever know.

Jon wasn’t letting go.

And Martin wasn’t letting go either.

#tmasafehousefest #jonmartin #pining #tma #the magnus archives #magpod #tma fanfic #fanfic #my writing #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #hurt/comfort #tma season four

45 notes · View notes

debelltio-a · 3 years

Text

Plant/Flower Symbolism Asks (Part I) / — @shuuhuu

Amaranth - If offered immortality, would your muse take it? For what reasons would or wouldn’t they, and under what conditions would it take to change whatever their answer is?

Oh , this is a difficult question! Orson is not a fan of himself or the world , actually. But to be honest immortality was never something he had to actually think about. It really does depend of the brand of immortality offered. Are we talking about eternal youth or does a person’s memory fade away and they’re left a withering corpse ? Are they unable to die at all or is it just very difficult to kill them ? Are they still susceptible to disease , pain , etc ?

More likely than not , he’d refused. “ Force “ magic and the like isn’t something he’s very knowledgeable about and while he’s many things , Orson is not an idiot ( doubt ). As much as he’d like to complete his project and have more time to pursue whatever he wants , immortality is just not the ticket to that. He doesn’t want to live forever.

Asphodel - Does your muse have regrets that they wish they can fix, but never can?

Aha aha , well — since you asked. (ﾉ´ з `)ノ *unravels long scroll* LET’S SEE —

1. My particular iteration of Orson abandoned his family at a young age to pursue his education. Out of guilt and shame , he refused to revisit that path in his life and that would be the first regret to fix. This was the path of no return and the start of his ambition. Once you sold your soul , it’s best you see your way through. If he could fix this part of his life I wouldn’t say that he would’ve stayed — however he might have treated them with a little more dignity.

2. Again : Galen. Orson grieves for his friend’s death and the death of their relationship even if it was 99% his fault. He doesn’t know what went wrong. In his eyes , he has done everything he could to help his friend but the dumbass didn’t want to accept it , for some reason. Lyra’s death was played slightly differently between the novelisation + movie (biggest difference would be his motivation ), for this blog — I prefer the novel. Orson didn’t want her to die but you know , she shot first so his own fired back in self-defence. Though he justifies it to himself in self-defence but my particular iteration of Orson is aware ( deep beneath the surface ) that her death was the point of no return.

3. There are many choices he had to make to climb the social ladder. Betrayal , backstabbing , murder. The 28-year old Orson in C.atalyst is not the same as the 51-year old Orson in R1. Young Orson didn’t like violence and was nauseous when he was forced to witness the Geonosian gladitorial battles. When he did order an orbital strike over the city of Vallt — it was justified as a necessity for the war. Contrast this with R1 Orson who had no problems obliterating Jedha + ordering the death of Galen’s scientists. The de-sensitisation of bloodshed and the corruption of his morals is a very slow yet noticeable slope. Again , my iteration is vaguely aware of this point of no return but by then , it was far too late to change anything.

BONUS : All of this is projected into the D.eath Star. The end justifies the means. He DOES NOT see himself as a villain , the small cognisant part that’s aware of that fact has been silenced for a long time. The mountain of corpses littered along his path and the annihilation of the superego is a small price to pay for ‘peace and security’ of the galaxy. What is a million lives compared to the trillions he’ll save once the De.ath Star’s complete ?

Baby’s Breath - Do they pick up on sexual innuendos easily? What is their reaction to them? How often do they make innuendos themself?

Orson is canonically the PG-13 SW equivalent to a college frat boy. Nocturnal “ carousing ” is a very demure term to mean that he’s out all night doing god-knows-what and comes home plastered drunk. There’s a lot of ‘between the lines’ passages in the novel implying that he parties , sleeps around , and gets into bar fights on a frequent basis — to the point where Lyra wondered if he even graduated ( he did ). This is in stark contrast to Galen , who was confused by puberty and its’ effects on his body and can barely talk when his crush is in the same room as him. How are they friends ?

So yes , he’s picks up sexual innuendos easily and uses them far too often. He PROBABLY taught Galen Erso everything about it too. Catch him trying not to snicker / or actually snickering should someone make a crude joke or whatnot. ┐(￣∀￣)┌

#shuuhuu #﹝ i was lord of this place » inbox ﹞#﹝ he who controls the spice controls the universe » ego ﹞#long post cw #(( as a side-note : i'm sure he's a terrible roommate ))#(( also I'm ... very sorry for the rambling ))#(( I find him a very complex and compelling character ))#(( also alistair and part ?? of overanalysing their muses ))

3 notes · View notes

laryna6 · 4 years

Text

Lord of the Rings AU where the elven reaction to the orcs was ‘you poor babies who have suffered so much’ and they went AHEM KILLING A GOD IS A THING THAT HAS HAPPENED IF YOU DO NOT HELP OUR RELATIVES at the gods and the Maiar until they intervened and undid anything making the orcs less intelligent/the attempt to make them Always Chaotic Evil.

Human: Orcs are kind of fugly

Elf: I WILL SHOOT YOU. *ahem* Ignore that human, let us teach you to murder anyone who looks at you funny so you don’t get captured the way your ancestors did.

So the orcs got like adopted by elves and such, but like they don’t have anything in common with them, and even though the elves have been like renovating to accommodate short people they feel very out of place and while they’ve decided to own being fugly like all the very pretty people babying you is... not great.

So an orc was talking to some dwarves about like, maybe moving out, and the dwarves were like ‘there are all these ancient cities of my people that we just don’t have the manpower to reclaim’ and like. Orcs were intended to be violent, so they still like fighting, and they really do want to stick it to the Enemy that tried to enslave them, and it was that side that had those mountains taken, so how much would it piss Sauron off to have them taken back?

So the dwarves get a horde of enthusiastic help reclaiming their ancient cultural centers, and the dwarves are like ‘sure, of course you can live there! It’d be lovely to see them humming with people again!’ So the orcs get them-sized living spaces, and since reviving those cities is a Fuck You to Sauron, they’re like ‘we should learn about the cultures of those cities and revive them too.’

Elves: Orcs are perfect pure babies! Dwarves: They’re brave warriors, always willing to help a friend and with great respect for tradition! Humans: :/ They’re still fugly though.

Elf fashion... did not work for orcs, but they take to BLING with great happiness, bringing out golden and other tones to their skin. And the dwarves are like ‘such appreciation for craftsmanship! It’s good to know that when our people finally wither and fade away, all our hard work will pass into such good hands.’

Orcs: ‘...Did we say you’re allowed to die out?’

Also the whole thing about ‘the free peoples of Middle Earth’ implying that the ones that fight for Sauron are NOT doing it of their own free will, so the orcs deciding that someone - like, someone who likes fighting, and doesn’t have the declining numbers problem of the elves and dwarves, and also really wants an opportunity to give Sauron the middle finger should Do Something about that.

Everyone else: The orcs are brave, selfless heroes who liberated us!

The orcs end up very anti-authoritarian because. They’re descended from people who were tortured by a bastard trying to produce a slave race. And then the gods wouldn’t have done anything to help them if the elves hadn’t collectively gone AHEM (which they may have all gotten kicked out of the blessed lands over, nbd).

Orcs: No gods no kings only stabbing slaveowners! Dwarves: Help we are under attack by a dragon. Orcs: YES we are also 100% down to fight dragons.

tl;dr Nac Mac Feegle orcs only jewelery instead of kilts

#humans still don't like them #orcs are also very down on this whole king concept #'you're saying this person has better blood than you and that means they get to give orders'#'idek 'good blood' sounds like everyone else has 'bad blood'#and some people being born to be slaves was what That Bastard wanted'#orcs constantly arguing with each other about politics #aggressively democratic orcs

9 notes · View notes

hoshinofushoku · 5 years

Photo

ichor_a mix for ORWELL 12 tracks [a side/intermission/b side] + 2 bonus tracks track listing + lyrics under the cut || listen here !!

a_side : 5 tracks

“If it would make people happy, I wouldn’t mind if my whole body burned to ashes.”

O1. Bitter Choco Decoration_Syudou feat. Miyushita Yuu

I do my best not to hurt anyone, not to bully anyone, and not to kill anyone. I also mustn't forget to throw in a light joke and some smooth talk here and there, and to always smile and please everybody

I do my best to respect others, to worship others, to praise others.

O2. A Sleepwalker Gazing on Nirvana_Tatsuya Kitani

Even “today, the day that I killed you” is just “today, which is just the same as tomorrow will be” -- Now I know why I haven't been able to love anyone

I’m completely immersed in a curse that won’t be dispelled until I die; there’s no saving me

O3. Veil_Suda Keina

The words I’m unable to share with you, They increase every time I notice them.

Even if it’s the future of these unending days, Even if it’s this near unsalvageable melancholy The more this finger struggles, the more they fade away remotely

I didn’t want to know the color of untouchable memories Although you aren’t here anymore, I still want to keep dreaming.

O4. Flos_R Sound Design feat. いゔどっと

After we fracture our relationship with the truth we’re about to spill today. All that is going to overflow will be lit with firewood, carried by the wind and colorize the rusty sky

The flower I deliberately decorated for the dulled days withered with the blink of an eye.

Foolish me woke up from the dream There was no point in clinging on

O5. Juice_Natsuhiro Takaaki (cw: implied car accident)

I only wished for a happy ending to this story Still, it got taken away by June’s rain Oh, yes, today resembles that day indeed

The same rain poured on that day I stared at the Marlboro cigarettes that couldn’t light up because of the humidity

“It’ll come true someday,” I filled the cup with this reckless dream and drank it -- What an unpleasant sweet juice.

– INTERMISSION –

Koi wa Daremo Inai_ Sakamoto Yoshie

My heart is breaking, I can't hide my sins And the tears start falling, again and again

I dance in the kitchen to a rhythm of blues. After these nightmares, I know the love has nobody

I spend all the proof of love And again, I sing and bleed I have a feeling that everything will collapse Though there is nothing happening

b_side : 4 tracks

“Let me go flying, then… to somewhere far beyond the expanses of the sky.”

O1. Hakujitsu_King Gnu feat. Kobasolo + Anonymous

Too late even if we started over Won’t matter even if I wipe it all out It’ll always cling to me, won’t let it go I gotta walk through what I’m in now

Goodbye clearing everything to pure white Please stormy snow would you try covering it all Just for today, just forever?

Blank it out, just hide it all away.

O2. But Not For Me_arr. Yoko Kanno feat. Masayoshi Furukawa

They’re writing songs of love, but not for me A lucky star’s above, but not for me With love to lead the way, I’ve found more clouds of grey Than any Russian play could guarantee

I was a fool to fall and get this way Hi-ho alas, and also lack-a-day Although I can’t dismiss the memory of his kiss I guess he’s not for me.

O3. The Dreaming Girl in Me_Sakamoto Yoshie

All the sadness and the pain I’ve felt, All the happiness and joy I’ve felt After the time goes by, all is in the past Bitter sweet pastel memories

When I was young I believed there was a sun that goes up and a sun that goes down In my heart I always thought they were two things And the moon and the stars in the night were the same lights that lit up the streets They were the same to my young eyes

O4. If I Only Had a Brain_Jeremy Little

I would not be just a nuffin’ My head all full of stuffin’ My heart all full of pain.

And maybe I’d deserve you And be even worthy of you If I only had a brain.

– BONUS –

Gregorio_Fullkawa Honpo feat. Chibita

On my own, I felt my way through the abyss of gloomy nights, So that I could keep going. This faintly-burning light that someone left behind, Please don’t forget.

No that’s not it, There’re also things that slipped from our memories, aren’t there? It doesn’t mean that I lock everything of a person away in a corner of my heart.

“Bitter things are those things we no longer remember and also the things that escaped our mind.”

E.T._Heize

Even though I’m leaving, I’m going back to my world So don’t worry, I’ll be more comfortable.

#[ mun art ]#[ ooc ]#th last bonus is supposed to b for hwen he d*es but i me an #also mood when this is embarrassingly unbalanced but i tried #mmy best.......#now ... write ttime

6 notes · View notes

icefir-windbreaker · 6 years

Text

All-Stars -Story Mode- [CHAPTER 2]

I know, it’s a bit too early and I had wrote this second chapter on Google Docs but I had thought about it recently hours later after I had posted til I decided: What the hell? I’ll post the second one. ;3

Enjoy

-Chapter 2-

After Boris locked the door, they were surrounded in darkness, no sight to see but they are able to hear their own breathes and knowing it’s their own and someone else’s. There’s nothing to do but wait…

Then, they heard the light switch flicked on and the lights gone on with a dim and saw the bunker in the light.

It does looked like an ordinary home for a normal family to stay in, it had a couch, a wooden wire spool for a table, oven, sink, a fridge and a room with bunk beds. Even a bathroom.

Boris walked over to the wire spool table and placed down his backpack on it as Bendy ran eagerly to look at what Boris had brought.

‘’So so so??’’ Bendy asked so very eagerly, ‘’What did you got with you? What did you go with you?’’

Boris held up his finger and got out a can that read ‘’Bacon Soup’’ on it, then showed Bendy that he had got 7 cans of Bacon Soup. 7 cans of soup means it can last 7 days of food.

Bendy clapped his hands happily as he looked at the cans, ‘’Woo! Good more soup!’’ the greedy Ink Demon said with glee and then he looked over at the two cups and the human child as he asked ‘’Did you have something for them as well Boris?’’

Boris had yet again held his finger out as he rummaging through the backpack and he got out a blue metal kettle and 8 cups of metal cups and 3 metal mugs along with the ingredients needed to make coffee.

The two brothers smiled at each other as they looked at the set of kettle and cups with mugs along with the ingredients had reminded them of home back in Inkwell.

Frisk looked at the Cup brothers and smiled with comfort as they reminded the human child of the two Skele brothers as well.

*Even though this isn’t like home.

*But watching the smile on the brothers’ faces,

*it fills you with DETERMINATION.

*And comfort.

Frisk walked over to the table as they took off their backpack and placed it on the table and rummaged through to get out their own food they had got from the convent store earlier.

Bendy looked over to Frisk and said ‘’Well, since you meet my friend Boris and know my name already, I guess it’s time to tell me your name, So what is it?’’

*You gave Bendy the Dancing Demon your name.

‘’Frisk huh? Nice to meet you. Do you know what is happening here?’’ Bendy asked. Frisk shook their head, implying that they don’t know.

‘’I see. We were trying to figure that out since we got here. But…’’ Bendy said before his sentence had faded as he looked at the ceiling. The look he had on his face was wonder as the two brothers noticed this.

‘’What is it?’’ Mugman asked to Bendy, who looked at him. ‘’Before you guys came along, I think we were the first ones here on the day before you came. We found ourselves with a tree with pinkish white flowers, what is it called?’’

>[Cherry Blossom Tree] [Apple Blossom Tree]

>[Cherry Blossom Tree]<

‘’Cherry blossom tree, never heard of it before but okay, it was near sunset but even through me and Boris never saw one before, it’d felt peaceful just seeing it. But it gotten even something more… What is that word again?’’

‘’Wonderful?’’ Cuphead said as Bendy looked at him, ‘’Wonderful! That’s it! Wonderful!’’ he said as Mugman and Frisk looked at Bendy like he was a child, as if the child is a Ink Demon. Bendy lowered and uppered his head like a bird swooping down to catch its prey.

‘’When night time came, the blossoms… They began to glow white while the wind breeze by, petals flying away like shooting stars. The light of those simples as them too.’’ Bendy continued with his story.

‘It’d must’ve been very beautiful.’’ Mugman commented on Bendy’s story as he could already imaged what if him and his brother were there to see the trees glow then Cuphead said ‘’But, we never thought of the trees would do something like this before. How is that possible?’’

Then that’s when Frisk raised their hand if they had a suggestion, winch caught Bendy’s attention. ‘’Yes Frisk?’’ Bendy asked.

*You told Bendy that the glowing cherry blossom trees at night time had reminded them of Echo Flowers from the Underground.

*Others had noticed you said

Underground.

‘’You been into an underground? Was it a cave or a…’’ Cuphead said before Frisk shook their head as they decided to tell this tale.

Long time ago, two races ruled over earth:

Humans and Monsters.

They had been in peace for years until one day, war broke out between the two races.

In the end, it was the race of men achieved victory in the war against the monsters and sealed them in the underground caverns with a spell.

Then years later, a child climbed up Mount Ebott with an unhappy reason till they tipped and fell into the Underground, the prince named Asriel had found the injured human child and took them back home.

The prince’s parents decided to the adopt the human and hope had reigned in the Underground, they knew this would bring the two worlds together again.

Until one horrible day, the human had fallen ill to an unknown disease and dying.

The human’s life was withering away as they requested that they want to see the flowers in their village just one last time but with the barrier up, there’s nothing that they could do.

Then a day came and the human gave in to the illness and died in their bed.

Asriel, overcome with grief of the lost of their sibling, absorbed their soul and his soul became fused with the human’s, turning into his powerful form.

He then took the human’s cold lifeless body and actually crossed the barrier to carry the human back to their village.

As he reached the village, he laid the body down the bed of flowers and stood in the silence of the night until he heard a scream ringed out. The villagers looked at the prince and the child and began to attack Asriel because they all thought he had killed his friend.

The prince had the power to destroy all with just a tip of a finger but he refused to fight back and instead took a blow after blow from the humans.

They all severely damaged him after they gave it all they could throw at him but he smiled and walked away with the human’s body still in his arms.

Asriel crossed the barrier and came back to the Underground, lethally wounded, his body fell down on top of the garden of flowers and died with the human child next to him. Once deceased, his body turned to dust and scattered across the garden.

The Underground’s ruler, Asgore, angered out of grief, declared that the war will begin and every human who falls down will die.

And over the years, 6 humans had met the same fate…

Well… All but one.

Frisk, the human of DETERMINATION fell down to the Underground and befriended the whole Monster race and broke the barrier with the help of Flowey who turned out be Asriel, resurrected as a flower.

Peace has reigned once more for the two races…

‘’Whoa…’’ Mugman said, ‘’You have befriended every monster in the underground kingdom? Even after they tried to kill you?’’

Frisk nodded yes as an answer.

Bendy smiled and said ‘’That’s quite a tale, came from the underground.’’

‘’Undertale?’’ Cuphead said as Frisk giggled at the name for the tale. ‘’That sounds very brave of you Frisk!’’ Mugman said.

Boris nodded as he too agreed with Mugman, Bendy smiled a little bit as he looked at Cuphead and said ‘’Do you two have a story of your own?’’

‘’Well, it’s not much like Frisk’s but we do.’’ Cuphead answered as Boris opened the can of soup and pours it into a pot so he can make dinner.

He tells them a story of him and his brother had wandered away under Elder Kettle’s nose while he was asleep and gone to the casino in Inkwell despite their caretaker’s warning to play craps that lead them a winning streak till the Devil himself came and raises the stakes by offering Cuphead a deal if they win the bet but ultimately lose when he rolled snake eyes.

He continues on with their story as they ate their dinner and laughed at their mistakes, Frisk smiled as they were reminded of Papyrus’s cooking with their friends.

*Cuphead and Mugman’s story is fascinating to listen.

*You can tell they like to get into troubles till they got into a big one with the Devil.

*Hearing them triumph against the Devil and saved Inkwell Isles fills you with DETERMINATION.

When they all started yawning as they went somewhere in 12 o’clock at midnight, they all decided to hit the hay as they went for the bunk beds but Boris stayed in the living room with a tommy gun to stand guard while they all get some sleep for tomorrow.

Cuphead and Frisk got top while Bendy and Mugman got the low bunk as they tucked themselves into the blankets, trying to fend off the cold till Cuphead and Bendy fell asleep first as Mugman and Frisk stayed awake.

There was silence for moment until Mugman said ‘’Frisk?’’, Frisk looked looked down at Mugman after they had heard their name been called with a confused look on their face.

‘’C-can the Devil be here in… Where ever we are?’’ Mugman asked at the human child, who just shrugged their shoulders as this add to Mugman’s worry. ‘’F-frisk, we do remember that the whole isles had been taken with us after that attack from the Devilings. I-if they were here, t-they would…’’ he continued with the fear toned his voice.

*Mugman is worried that the Devil may be back for revenge.

*You knew this by the tone in his voice,

*You assured Mugman that him and his brother, Cuphead

*had beaten the Devil and his lackeys before so if he is here,

*they can do it again.

Mugman smiled as Frisk gave him a comforting smile, he known that smile when he was a kid, it’s the same one that Elder Kettle gave him and his brother whenever they’re feel scared. That made feel better thanks to Frisk.

‘’A-alright, you’re right Frisk. We done it before and we can do it again if the Devil really is back, anyway, we better get some sleep or else, we’ll just be tired as sloths!’’ Mugman said as Frisk giggled at his reply.

‘’Anyway, good night Frisk. See you in the morning.’’ Mugman said as he went to sleep.

*Despite being away from your family,

*Mugman reminded you of Asriel Dreemurr before he turned back into Flowey the Flower.

*You still do wished if there’s a way to bring Asriel back.

*You are DETERMINED to figure out what’s happening.

*But you need to get some rest first.

Frisk rolled over as they pulled the blanket over them as they finally fell into a deep slumber…

Then fell into a dream...

#All-Stars Battle Royale #All-Stars -Story Mode-#Undertale #Bendy and The Ink Machine #Cuphead: Don't Deal With The Devil #Cuphead #Mugman #Bendy #Boris #Frisk

5 notes · View notes

sylvasthesnowfox · 5 years

Text

19. literal

"I do not like this," says Parias.

You don't? Phobos regards Parias with surprise. They are curled behind their glass barrier, hugging their legs. All three of them have been watching the conversation, listening and observing; this was the plan they agreed upon to begin with, to simply observe and understand the mechanics of the Seed before trying to act too quickly, and Phobos is very content to just sit back for the time being.

She is on the island with them, hiding in shadows and little places under chunks of marble and such; by sharing her perception with the others via one of her little rifts in the earth, they can see and hear as well as she can. Her role is to act as the scout for the others, since they are much larger and have a much harder time moving around than she does. It's a little tense to have to constantly skirt around the humans' vision, but she's become quite good at it, and she very much likes watching and feeling like she's a part of this... even if only vicariously. The humans are fun to listen to, working together like this. She loves Rei's optimism most of all.

"It worries me some," Aplistia hums, watching through Parias' windows. "This seems too simple for all of Yomi's scheming. If it is just a matter of re-aligning the spirits to agree with their new vision..."

M-Maybe Yomi didn't realize it would be so straightforward! Phobos offers.

"Well, maybe not," Aplistia agrees reluctantly, glancing at the spiders with a smirk, "but it'd be a bit disappointing after all of this, wouldn't it?"

You only say that because you got your hopes up for an adventure, Phobos replies, rather put out. If this turns out to be easy for them I'll be very glad.

"I agree with Phobos, in this case," Parias mutters. "But, that's not what I meant. I mean I don't know if I like what they're saying."

Huh? Now Parias has both their attention. Parias pauses to listen a moment longer, as Rei describes that they need only one timeline to succeed; as she says it Parias makes a strange sound, like they are gnashing many teeth.

"And what of those that don't," they growl.

"Eliza did say that they can bring their success to others," Aplistia offers.

"And what if they don't?"

"Then - then they aren't the right one, are they?" Aplistia frowns. "Besides, don't you get the sense that these will be very active curators? I'm sure they will be nudging things along to suit their plan, just as Yomi was doing her best to prepare Rei for the end of the world."

I understand that it's a lot to hope for, Phobos says nervously. But... we have to have at least some hope, right? After all this...

Parias is quiet. The spirits are settling their doubts, too. When the last one nods and gives her consent, Parias sighs heavily, shaking their head. "Maybe I'm just being bitter," they say softly. "We shall see."

"Yes, we shall," Aplistia agrees, though a bit mutedly now.

"Very well," the last spirit sighs. "We will assist you in the new world."

"Very good." Rei smiles, bowing faintly to them, a very small gesture that masks her sizable relief. Almost as though to compensate, Naomi fistpumps with an emphatic cry beside her. It pulls at Rei's smile a bit, but she maintains poise and continues. "So, then, what do we need to do?"

"You need only invoke the Spark," the spirit says, gesturing to the orb of darkness twirling around Rei's shoulders. "Once it has been released from its chains."

"Wait, that's it?" Eliza is first to say it, and Rei's not sure she would've been able to stomach saying it herself, but - she feels exactly the same. "That's really all there is to this?"

"There will be much for you to do once genesis begins," the spirit continues, "but at this stage, the Seed appears to be dormant."

"Appears to be," Rei murmurs. The spirit doesn't acknowledge her and keeps speaking:

"The universe will finalize and stabilize once the invocation is complete. Your work will begin at that point."

"What will happen to this place?" Naomi asks lowly. "Or to the people still back at the tower?"

"This place will remain," the spirit replies. "It may change in shape, but what was here will remain, roughly speaking. You can decide what to do with the survivors that came with you then."

The humans reconvene within the tower. Gwen darts over to them at the earliest opportunity, and explains that she saw what happened outside. "Congratulations!" she says, delighted and relieved. But the others' reactions leave something to be desired.

"I would like to believe that it's good enough," Rei says softly, frowning at Eliza, who frowns right back. "But something about this doesn't feel right. It's too simple."

"I have a theory," Eliza hums, "though it's far from flattering." She glances at Gwen. "But firstly - this has been bothering me since we got here, obviously, but why don't you remember us?"

"W-Why?" Gwen balks. "I - I don't really know! We all just appeared here, as far as I know. O-Obviously I have some memory of being here before you arrived, but..."

"You just appeared here," Eliza repeats lowly.

Rei frowns, looking between them, as Gwen continues to wither in discomfort and anxiety. Naomi, following Rei's gaze, turns to Eliza and clicks her tongue. "You're not going to get anything out of interrogating her," she scolds. Eliza ignores her entirely.

"You appeared here when the Seed was created, with some kind of prior context," the mayor continues, "and just picked that up and began preparing for us to arrive. That's your story?"

"That's what happened!" Gwen protests. "Why are you doubting me...? I don't have anything to hide from you..."

"I don't think Eliza is suspicious of you in particular," Rei says softly. Eliza nods sagely, closing her eyes.

"This entire situation feels wrong," Eliza declares, her voice sharper and colder than before. "It's ludicrous to think that all you need to do to create the new world is say some fancy words to some weird demi-god-spirits and convince them not to give up on humanity. And that's to say nothing of how strange it is that they didn't corroborate Yomi's explanation for why we have to do this in the first place."

"W-what are you implying?" Gwen stammers. Eliza looks her way, tired, incredulous. "I want to help," Gwen protests, stamping her foot. "I know you just see me as another part of the Seed, but - but I really do want to help you! I want to help the Curator succeed! We all want that, don't we?"

"I suppose we do," Eliza says dryly. Gwen shrinks back even more, looking helplessly at Rei.

Rei wonders for a moment if she should say anything about how cruel this is. Even if she has been co-opted in some capacity by the Seed, Gwen is still Gwen, and Eliza's words are hurting her. But at this point, something like that doesn't matter to Eliza. People's feelings have never mattered to Eliza, not really, not weighed against the responsibilities of survival, and that's a way of thinking that Rei has to admit she understands. Even before the end... Eliza forged her own path, and cared little for anyone that disagreed with it. It was one of the things about her that had made her stand out to Rei, one of the reasons she had befriended her in the first place. Maybe out of some vain hope that she would be there to see reconstruction, a hope that she somehow managed to manifest. And this is what it's led to.

"What's weird to me," Naomi adds, "is that Gwen doesn't remember us, but you and I both remember Rei and each other just fine, Eliza. How come we're special?"

"Yeah," Eliza agrees lowly, turning to nod to Naomi. "That's really what makes Gwen so strange. Why just her? Is it just our involvement in tearing open the remnant, or is there some other force at work?" She turns back to Gwen, gesturing pointedly. "You, or whatever entity has given you your memories, or whatever, expects us to simply accept that SOME of the survivors of the remnant were repurposed for the Seed, but not us. Why?"

"Maybe because you were close friends with the Curator," Gwen says feebly, fidgeting. "M-Maybe I wasn't really that close with her." She glances shyly in Rei's way. "Was I?"

Rei doesn't know what to say. Eliza is glaring at her, and she kind of knows why. This is a terribly dangerous subject.

"Even then, that's arbitrary," Eliza says, through gritted teeth now as though forcing a sense of calmness. "I understand that all of this magic nonsense can be arbitrary at times, but it doesn't give me any sense of faith in the process, and frankly, I don't have a lot of reason to trust anything that's happened so far."

"W-well," Gwen gulps, "um, there are many questions I can answer for you! So that might be something we can fix."

"Why did our old world die?" Eliza asks coldly.

"A-ah..." Gwen's spirit dies immediately, fading back and starting to fidget.

"If the spirits of this world don't know," Rei interrupts, "how could Gwen? My mother wasn't perfect, Eliza, maybe she got some things wrong. Maybe the world really did die when it was meant to, and maybe that's what we're really here to try to fix. Yomi thought the problem was in the way the world was constructed, but maybe it wasn't, maybe it's in the way the world was managed. Maybe she was just a terrible Curator, Eliza. There's a lot that we don't know."

"So what do you want me to do?!" Eliza shouts back, gesturing wide. "If there is something that I'm missing, please, by all means, tell me! Explain to me why this is so easy, explain to me what we're doing wrong! But heaven and hell forbid, Rei, if you invoke that Spark and create some new universe and we fucking forgot about something that we could've caught in advance, you're going to be kicking yourself for literal eternity."

"I hadn't really thought about it," Naomi says, a bit timidly, "but - what exactly happens to you after you invoke the Spark, Rei? What'll happen to us?"

Eliza stammers and sputters to a stop, staring at her bewildered. "I-I assumed she'd just enter the new world and assume some kind of stewardship over it like Yomi had," she says faintly. "Right? She - she must have told you something about that, right?"

"Technically," Rei sighs, "she told me that I'd remain outside the universe, but I think she expected I'd be able to figure things out myself. What matters is what the spirits told us: this space is going to remain, though it might change shape. So we'll still be here, and it'll be up to us to determine what to do with everyone that's still with us."

"Okay, so, we'll be here, also," Eliza murmurs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "But, that's beside the point - as far as we know, we only get one shot at this, right? We have to be absolutely sure it's right, but we don't even know how to tell."

"It may be that we can't tell," Rei says, but Eliza's voice jumps an octave, a growl tearing from her throat as she overrides Rei:

"And I'm just supposed to go off of your maybes and what ifs?!" she snaps. "This is exactly what I was talking about in the remnant, Rei - you're brilliant about your theory and confident in your conclusions, but you just don't follow through, you leave everything vague and undefined, and someone has to come in after the fact and clean up after your mess -- "

"Wait, wait," Naomi gasps, "guys, calm down - "

"I will be calm when Rei gets it through her head that we can't just leave everything to chance!" Eliza snarls.

"What exactly am I leaving to chance?" Rei replies - her voice cool and soft, but a bitter edge lying just underneath; she folds her arms and settles into a steely glare. "What you see as an uncertainty that must be corrected, I see as a simple fact of life. I am a Curator, Eliza, but I am also still human, and the nature of humanity is such that we cannot know everything. We aren't working with a science experiment carefully contained within a lab. These are not results we can verify against someone else's work. We have only ourselves and the world around us to judge by."

"So let's take our time," Eliza cries, exasperated, "and explore the world around us, and make sure we're not missing anything! I'm not saying that you don't know what you're doing - "

"I'm not suggesting that we rush anything either," Rei snaps back, "but we won't get anywhere if we refuse to place our trust in what the Seed has placed in front of us! The structure of this place, literally and symbolically, has meaning that we need to preserve and understand. Trying to worm into it, to understand its inner workings, is just going to cause it to unravel underneath us, and anything you think you'll learn about it will be meaningless. We have to understand it as an abstraction, not as a machine."

"Um," Gwen says feebly, faint and weak. Eliza sighs angrily, brushing her hair back and turning to her, fire in her eyes. "I-I think something is wrong."

"Great!" Eliza shouts, throwing her hands up. "A lead, finally. What's happening?"

"I don't know." Gwen glances towards the holographic display, and the others follow her eyes to see that Gwen's friends have all gathered around it, watching with hushed anxiety as error displays begin to pop up around one of the islands. "I don't know what would be causing that," Gwen continues faintly. "I've never seen that before."

"Is that an outsider?" Rei whispers. Eliza starts to back away from the screen.

"We need to go," she intones, and Rei nods back to her, gesturing for the Spark to manifest a tear in reality behind her companion.

#wishes from oblivion #wfo sky arc

2 notes · View notes

woildismyerster · 6 years

Note

Can i get uhh albert x swimmer reader?

It was Senior night, and Albert was regretting the bouquet of flowers.

“They’re great,” Crutchie assured him.

“I know the flowers are great,” Albert groaned. “That’s why I bought them. But now I have to hold them the entire time, but I don’t even know if Y/N will want them.”

“Did Y/N say they liked you?”

Albert opened his mouth to answer, but he closed it when he realized he didn’t exactly know. You had been friends for a while, and he had liked you for ages. It wasn’t that he was too scared to ask you out, though that would certainly have been like him. All of his uncertainty came from remembering a night at the park.

His friends spent a lot of time at the park. Going to somebody’s house was a challenge, since there were too many people to fit in a small New York apartment. Restaurants were a little better, but high schoolers didn’t always have the money to hang out in one as often as they would have liked. So the park was the gathering place, and a good day would have all of you there from the end of school until dark.

Back when summer was fading into fall, all of you had been hanging out at the park. It was something of a last hurrah for you, since swim season was about to start. You and Albert stayed long after the others left, trying to enjoy a few more hours of freedom before going home.

Albert wasn’t sure where the courage came from, since he was not the courageous type. He was made to be sturdy, not to be sporadic. However it happened, Albert searched his heart for the strength to kiss you, and he found it there. He kissed you when the sun was gone, but the darkness was only clinging to the edges of the evening.

You kissed him back, and it may have been the best moment of his life. It answered a million questions that he only allowed himself to ask when you were gone; where you would put your hands, if you would say his name, if you would be smiling or serious or cautious. He found that he liked every answer he got, but when he asked you out afterwards, you said that you wouldn’t have time. Being on the swim team was a full time commitment, and you didn’t think that you could balance sports, schoolwork, and a relationship without ruining one of them.

Albert understood that. He knew how challenging it could be to keep so many commitments without doing one halfheartedly. He found other ways to spend time with you instead. He started studying with you during homeroom. He ate lunch with you when he could. He texted you throughout the day, and he stayed up until you went to bed so he could maximize the amount of time he talked to you.

All of it was awesome, but he had done it all assuming that swim season wasn’t just an excuse.

“No,” he said slowly. “I thought it was implied, but it wasn’t said out loud.”

Crutchie smiled, but the reassurance in it may have just been Crutchie being himself. He came to all of the swim meets with Albert, sometimes making signs to hold up. “I think Y/N likes you just fine. They’ll love the flowers.”

Maybe you would. Maybe implication was good enough. After all, during the months of swimming, you had enthusiastically welcomed his attention. You sent him good morning texts when you got up before him for practice. You helped him study for classes you didn’t take. He sometimes thought that he caught you looking at his lips, but maybe that was just a coincidence.

But maybe you had kissed him because it felt like the right moment, not because it was Albert you wanted to be kissing.

Maybe you had liked him back then, but he had fallen safely into friendship since then.

Maybe he would give you the flowers and ask you out, but you would turn him down with an awkward smile.

Maybe you wouldn’t want to study together or text anymore.

Maybe you would see him with the flowers, and run before he had the chance to give them to you.

All of the “maybes” built up into one giant regret while he watched you swim. Albert loved to watch you; he loved the strength in your shoulders and the way you wore the swim uniform with unconcerned pride. He loved the enthusiasm you gave off when you did well, and he loved going out for ice cream with you to mourn losses.

By the time you finished the meet, he was so certain you would say no that he thought maybe he should just leave. Leave, and pretend that the end of swim season did not signal what he had hoped would be an awesome beginning to something else.

He stood, flowers behind his back, and moved to leave. Crutchie grabbed his hand. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Albert sighed.

“What about Y/N? The flowers?”

“I’m not doing it,” Albert snapped. “Y/N isn’t interested. Being friends will have to be good enough, since asking them out can only ruin it.”

“But what if Y/N wants to say yes?” Crutchie frowned at him, looking betrayed despite having nothing to do with the relationship hanging on the line.

“Y/N is perfect! Y/N would never -”

“Would never what?” Your question made Albert feel like he was going to wither up and die. At least, he wished that he could. You were behind him, toweling off, staring at the flowers.

“Oh, you know,” he mumbled.

“I really don’t,” you said with a rueful grin. “Are the flowers for me?”

He held them out. “Yeah.” He opened his mouth to ask you out, explicitly using the word date, but something else came out instead. “Celebrating with the team tonight?”

“Nah,” you said. “Tomorrow night. Why?”

“Because it’s about dinner time,” he said awkwardly.

“That it is,” you agreed. “What about it?” You were teasing him, of course, and his ears went pink.

Just say it, Albert. It’s less humiliating to get rejected if you don’t ask like a dope.

“Albert wants to go to dinner with you,” Crutchie said. Albert stared at him, caught between mortification and relief.

You beamed. “Great! Let me change, and I’m all yours.”

He wished.

Your hair was still a little damp, and you smelled heavily of chlorine. When he was a kid, the smell made him think of sunscreen and dry skin and blinding sunlight. Now it made him think of quiet libraries, the park at night, and the smell of the lotion you carried around to sooth your dry hands.

“So,” you said over a slice of pizza. “What were you saying I would never do?”

Albert was about as bad at lying as Forrest Gump was good at running. If he lied to you now, he would turn a flaming shade of red and probably ruin his chance with you forever. You had accepted the flowers, and maybe that was a good sign.

“Date me,” he said.

You frowned at him, but it turned into a laugh. “Really? Why not?”

“Because you’re the greatest,” Albert said, bewildered.

“So are you,” you said with equal confusion. “Why were you talking about it in the first place?”

“Swim season ended,” he said sheepishly. “I thought that maybe I could ask you out now that you have more time for a relationship, but I realized that it was stupid once I had the flowers and everything.”

You hummed thoughtfully around your straw. “Huh. It doesn’t seem that stupid to me. We’ve kind of been dating this entire time, in a friend-way.”

“Friend dating?”

“Exactly. All we’re missing is the kissing and hand holding, really,” you said. You were grinning at him.

Albert swallowed thickly. He knew you were right, but that brought a new question to the table. “Do you want to kiss and hold hands?”

“Definitely,” you said. “When we aren’t eating. Rain check for an hour?”

Albert grinned, hooking his ankle around yours under the table. He had waited for you for months. An hour was nothing. You were worth the wait.

#Newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies x reader #albert #albert dasilva #albert dasilva x reader #albert x reader #ally writes

77 notes · View notes

yeoldontknow · 7 years

Text

Koi No Yokan

Author’s Note: HAPPY CHRISTMAS @yehet-me-up this was a whole lot. PLEASE ENJOY THE JUN OF YOUR DREAMS!! (and mine omg) i love you so much | Koi No Yokan (japanese): the sense upon meeting a person that you will fall in love Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader (oc; female) Summary: For as long as you’ve known Junmyeon, you’ve known you will eventually fall in love with him. One night, when he takes you to a psychic, you see that he will love you, too. Genre: fluff; romance; au Rating: PG Word Count: 5,021

The fog descended upon the earth early in the evening, just past sunset when the sky still glimmered with embers of light, bringing with it a weight that makes your chest feel tight with ardent craving. A grey lingers beyond the car window, warmth leaving smudges on the glass as it meets the coolness of the interior. Occasionally, you press your fingers against it, pretend you are leaving marks on a world that does not feel you, but your skin kisses just the same.

At twenty-five, Junmyeon makes the length of your town feel limitless, edgeless, swallowed whole by a night thick with wonder. There’s magic in the air when the world is like this, at least that’s what he says, though sometimes you think the magic is him. It’s his lopsided smile and his eyebrows, too expressive for a boy and too wild for a man, that makes the world feel impossible and beautiful, all at the same time.

The psychic at the end of the pier was his idea, something he tossed casually into the air with a laugh lurking behind his tongue. Part of you is unsure if he takes it seriously, if he’s teasing or playing, but you know he means it. You know that’s the route of the evening, know that once he’s suggested something he sticks to it, steadfast and confident, and so unlike you.

‘Besides,’ he said, glancing at you sidelong and with wildfire in his eyes, ‘we don’t want to lose the twilight.’

He drives with one hand on the wheel, looking everywhere and making you smolder with his seeming indifference; drives like he means to leave neon smears behind him, turning every sign and every billboard to ash. Like this, he seems to move time, guides it with his foot and his hand, the car a conduit for the life you are meant to live. Outside, the fog makes the streetlights glow, becoming little else than orbs of purpose and potential, and you long stopped trying to focus on them as they pass. Now, you just accept the lights for what they are: phantasms of hope and whim.

Instead, you keep your attention on him, the only solid thing you can see. Out of the dark he looms, outlined by the hazy rays of the moon and radiating from within. The closeness in the car makes the air you breathe feel thick, as though you could suck the nectar from the atmosphere and let it warm you down to your bones. In your chest, the wanting burns, makes your blood liquid ore as it courses through your veins, but the inherent weakness of you means you will not turn away.

It’s always been there, you know, the feeling that you could or would love him. The way he spoke, the way he moved, the way he urged you to surrender to disorganization and happenstance; it is not that you did love him, only that it was inevitable that you would. It is not that he wore you down, because you felt you were his long before you had met.

Usually, you are good at studying him impassively, good at stealing pieces of him away to build your memories around him, painting him in only the best colours. Tonight, your gaze breaks him down, reducing and minimizing him to down to his atoms, gluttonous in its desire to learn him. Beneath your inquisitive stare, he does not move, does not shudder, his stillness making your palms begin to sweat with yearning.

You aren’t sure why you watch him so intently, why the line of his hand to his wrist to his arm to his shoulder seems perfect and hypnotizing, but you find it impossible to tear your eyes away. Can’t, don’t want to, and won’t, all phrases you chew inside your mouth as you watch him focus and watch him grin, seeing something in the world you do not.

‘I can feel you watching me,’ he says, nonchalant and as though he almost expects your eyes on him, always.

‘And?’

There’s a challenging edge to your voice, one that makes it feel like the sharp point of a knife. It’s harsher than you mean to be, but you know he likes it when you’re firm and difficult to handle; you know he likes it when he gets to soften you with his own hands.

‘It feels good,’ he says slowly, mouth shaping the words and kissing them free. ‘Like you’re all over my skin.’

The thickness in his voice makes your thighs clench and your breath hitch, fingers wrapping tightly around the leather of the seat. All these years and still he catches you off guard with his intensity, sudden and seductive as though he is birthing stars with a flick of his tongue. All these years and, still, you let him.

‘What the fuck, Jun,’ you chuckle, steadying your breath and inhaling deeply to take the sound of his voice into your blood.

Turning to wink at you, he licks his lips before he speaks. ‘It’s the truth.’

Coming from his mouth, it sounds easy, flirting, teasing, though you do not know which he means. It goes both ways, toes the dangerous line between playing and wanting, and somehow both taste the same on an unsure tongue. Just the same, your voice withers back into your chest, locks itself away and gently caresses his implication.

Junmyeon parks the car on the side of the road, by the old motel highway sign, it’s arrow now rendered directionless. The motel is gone now, destroyed somewhen long before you were born, but the sign remains, a beacon from a past more distant now because no one chooses to remember it. Unremarkable, uneventful, faded and lost, remembered only by a photograph and words boasting colour television and a swimming pool. A lonely headstone, you think, but one that burns brightly just the same.

The fluorescent sign hanging along its edge captivates your attention, makes the faded colours blossom into something fresh and new, pulling you back in time.

‘My grandparents met at that motel,’ Junmyeon announces as he follows your line of sight. He leans against the open car door, folds his arms and pauses as though waiting for the sign to reveal some secret. Like this, he appears detached, as though he too were merely a fragment of memory. ‘They said the sheets were itchy.’

A laugh brims over your lips, escapes into the atmosphere even though it feels unwarranted. Truthfully, you’re awed, bewildered by his ability to humanize the majesty of relics. Still, true to form, he lets the magic remain.

‘I suppose it didn’t matter in the end, did it?’ he posits before turning to look at you.

Your tongue greets him with a reticent silence, one in which you struggle to catch his train of thought, but it does not phase him, doesn’t even seem to register in his mind.

Junmyeon keeps his serene smile as he shrugs and regards you with a fondness you cannot place. ‘They got married, didn’t they?’

The concept of it is delightful to him, the prospect of the unknown and unexpected something exciting and profound. In his voice, he carries all the unasked questions: did they know they would fall in love? Was it love at first sight? Could they feel it in their fingertips, a future longing all the way down to their toes, as they walked side by side to gather ice?

He slips out of the car the same way he slips away from these questions, lets them hang in the air for your fingers to fondle without grasping for purchase.

You say nothing as you get out, shivering only because it feels like something that must be done in the eerie silence that hangs around you. This far out, the homes are distant, separated by yards and yards of grassy fields and torn up parking lots. This is the land of the desperate and the dying, at least that’s what you’ve always called it, but Junmyeon doesn’t see it that way.

Miracles happen when you’re desperate, he says, because at that point you have no choice but to believe.

Together, you walk down the block towards a worn down strip mall. Idly, you count the rungs of every fence you pass, some recently painted and others worn down to the wood. Victorian homes, clinging to their former grace, line the block, looking austere and regal and unloved as they wrap themselves in the night. Some windows flicker with the motion and glare of television screens, making them appear haunted and menacing.

‘Why didn’t we park closer?’ you ask, hugging you sweater around you as a chill overtakes your shoulders.

‘I like the walk.’ Junmyeon closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, reclining and luxuriating in the atmosphere as though the fog could hold him. ‘And,’ he continues, ‘it’s a beautiful night.’

Humming, you nod and study your feet as you walk. ‘What made you want to see a psychic?’

At this, he chuckles, though not at you and neither at your question. The depth of his laugh, the flush at his cheeks, you sense he is laughing at himself, at his impulses and his ability to be taken by caprice.

‘Something to do, I guess,’ he says, though you know it’s not what he means to say. Tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, he mulls over his words before nodding at nothing and no one. ‘It’s something special to share with you.’

Butterflies bloom in your stomach, struggling to break free at his words. He was close, you think, to implying that you were what is special about this evening, that the something is only important because it belongs to you as much as it belongs to him. You want to believe that he sees you as you see him, that he too feels the tether that has started to grow from the center of your chest, pulling you to him and hoping he never departs.

‘I’m glad you picked me,’ you try, hoping that your voice does not sound meek or mild, and praying that he does hear the longing that taints your cadence.

Running a hand through his hair, he smiles at you, sheepish. ‘I’m glad you said yes.’

When he turns to look at you, you see the honesty and sincerity that pulls his lips into a smile. Part of you struggles to imagine him sharing this evening with anyone else, knowing that you are his balance, that you smooth his edges when he needs it most. He’s said it as much, said that he feels you on him even when you are not there, reminding him to keep still and keep calm when the world around him becomes cacophonous.

Always, Junmyeon presses at the world, pulls at the strands of conformity and tries to unmake it all with delicate scratches of his nails. Always, he relies on you to keep him together, and, always, you rely on him to make the world taste sweet. Where you like order, Junmyeon likes chaos, and somewhere in between you exist together, needy and lonely and craving only each other’s company when the noise of existence becomes too much to bear.

Silence grows between you, comfortable and not altogether unwelcome. The hand at your side aches and itches to lace your fingers between his, to hold him and claim him as your own, but you keep your arm still. You’re sure it looks awkward and out of place, odd that the motionless limb hangs limp beside you, but your skin feels like a livewire. From time to time it twitches, anxious and needy in its desire to feel the length of Junmyeon’s palm clutched against it.

As you get closer to the pier, the smell in the air changes to a light sea breeze. With it, it carries the scent of low tide and the subtle odor of dead fish and decaying sand. With each inhale, your nose burns with the scent, makes your nose scrunch in offense though Junmyeon remains stoic and unaffected. Briefly, you wonder how often he’s done this walk, how often and with whom. He walks the length of the uneven sidewalk with ease and confidence, sure steps he does not second guess as he looks everywhere but the direction of your destination.

‘My dad used to take my mother here when they were teenagers.’

His voice penetrates the air, cuts straight through to your heart and makes your fingers clench at your side, regardless of the offhanded nature of his comment. Once more, his voice is distant and wandering, but this time he means to take you with him.

‘They’d park just beyond the pier entrance,’ he continues, gesturing over to a parking lot that is crumbling away with time, ‘and count quarters, see how many tokens they’d buy at the arcade. Back then, quarters were worth a lot and they’d spend hours here just playing games together.’

‘Is this where they fell in love?’

‘Maybe,’ he sing-songs with a shrug. ‘Who knows where or how anyone falls in love.’

Something about this statement feels off, wrong to you in some way. ‘Lots of people do,’ you challenge. ‘My dad met my mother because he held the door for her. He said it was love at first sight.’

Junmyeon hums for a moment, considering your words seriously. ‘Was it for her?’

‘I think so,’ you begin, ‘though I think she had a delayed realization.’

‘See, I think for most people love just happens.’ He keeps his gaze straight ahead as he speaks, as though seeing the manifestation of a love you cannot even fathom, as though he can see love itself in the distant tide. ‘You can’t really plan it and you don’t really think about it. Think of the inverse. One day love is there and another it isn’t. It’s the same for falling in love. One day it’s a distant thing and another you can’t imagine it never being there at all.’

‘You mean it settles over you?’

Junmyeon nods, brow furrowed in agreement. ‘Quietly, and most times without your permission.’

Uncertain how to respond, you choose instead to remain quiet, mulling over his words with an eager tongue and teeth. Again, he speaks to the way you feel as though he knows it, as though the experience is his as much as it is yours. This is not the first time he has spoken as though he knows your soul, as though he knows and has felt your secret, touched it in the night and learned it for himself.

But all at once, his demeanor changes, the lines on his face, brought forward from his concentration, are wiped away all at once by his jovial smile.

‘There it is!’ he exclaims, pointing at a building that stands out in the distant simply because it is neon and it glows.

Even from a distance, you can feel the slight way the weight of the world shifts as you approach. Something about the building feels important, something about the way the waves break on the shore feels symphonic, something about the way he breathes feels majestic. Every step leads you closer to a destiny or a curse, you aren’t entirely sure which, and by the time you reach the door your heart has decided it is neither.

Whatever lies beyond this door, you think, will reveal a truth. Nothing more and nothing less, just something that exists in the dark, unkissed spaces of existence. Something that lingers just beyond your reach, waiting for you to see it, to want it, and to pull it closer through the strength of will.

For a long while, he pauses beside the window and lets the green overtake the expanse of his skin. With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his bomber jacket, he looks ethereal, as though he’s ascending a different dawn. The green of the neon consumes him, but it’s the purple letters that make his eyes find new depth, as though he sees beyond and between things you cannot fathom. In the glow, you consider him to be the first drop of a hurricane, the start of your own undoing, and you welcome him with a hungry mouth.

‘Do you ever think about how neon gets made?’ he asks abruptly, though he does not turn to look at you. Furrowing his brow, he cocks his head to the side and looks at the sign as though it is a puzzle; he looks at the sign the same way you look at him.

‘No.’ Saying it makes you sad, somehow, as though you have chosen to ignore the mysteries the world has offered you, palms up and eager for you to take. As though you have ignored the universe and let yourself wither beneath the lack. ‘Why?’

‘Dunno, no one ever really considers it. But I guess that’s the point.’ Pulling a hand from his pocket, Junmyeon presses his palm to the window, lining his hand up with the one traced in neon, and smiles at the odd, irregular fit. ‘It’s the moment when science meets magic, and explaining it takes the magic away.’

Considering his statement makes you feel as though you are trembling before greatness, given access to the wild and deep recesses of his mind. It does not go unnoticed that he touches palms with the sign, rather than touches the word ANSWERS, lingering just below in a brilliant shade of beryl. He avoids answers but you stare at the word LOVE as though you mean to dismantle it, break it down to angles and parts, and let it live beside the monument you’ve made of him.

‘Magic can still exist even if you understand it,’ you counter, hoping your voice sounds equally as wise. ‘Sometimes it makes things better.’

‘Not like this,’ he says, sounding proud and mystified. ‘Sometimes, we should let things glow just because they do. Sometimes, that should be enough.’

When Junmyeon gets like this you call him the Prophet. You aren’t sure why or when the name stuck, but it’s a name he wears with pride. Even when you first met him, he was terribly self-aware, aware of his mercurial moods and his long, wandering conversations that sometimes wrap around him in circles. You don’t mind these moods, find that, somewhere in the twine of his thoughts, he touches on things that matter, things that are important, and often on things you are too anxious to discuss.

When Junmyeon gets like this you feel yourself start to swoon, unapologetically, and always reach to pull him back so that you do not lose yourself to the wild land inside his heart.

‘You’re leaving prints on the glass,’ you try, hoping to pull him back to you, and you to yourself.

‘Don’t worry,’ he laughs, pulling his hand away regardless. ‘It’s not permanent.’

Sighing, you wish you could say the same for your soul. ‘What did you want to ask her?’

Turning towards you, Junmyeon regards you with a smile that breed affection into the corners of his lips. Stepping towards you, he leans into your ear and whispers, ‘I want her to tell me what I need.’

‘I don’t think she can do that,’ you laugh at his wild and grandiose statement. It’s loud though, almost too loud for the stillness of the evening, and you know it is because his breathe at your neck as made your skin come alive with sparks.

‘She can’t,’ he agrees, teasing you gently as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. ‘But the universe can.’

And just like that, just as easily as breathing, he wins you over once more.

When you push through the door, you find it is raining. The urgency with which you break free from the building makes your hands feel tense, your chest tight with too many things for you to process. Junmyeon follows suit, his laughter as he greets the rain musical and unrestrained. You wish you could feel as he, free and somehow liberated with the knowledge that the future is limitless.

Perhaps, in a way, you are, but already the tension between you has built, turning itself thick and sweet. Before, you were compressed, lungs restricted in their breaths as the pressed against your wanting, and now, you fear you might be drowning, capsizing in a yearning that consumes even the atoms of your skin.

Tipping your head back, you let the rain wash over you, let it cleanse away the disenchantment of your life until it pools at your feet. Around you, the world blurs, your vision warped and distorted by the drops that kiss your eyes and cheeks. It coats you, you think, rather than glides off you, covering you in a romantic deluge that refuses to be swept away.

‘The lovers,’ he says, the deep tenor of his voice striking you like lightening.

You turn to look at him, breath halting in your lungs as you take him in. He does not fight the rain or bask in it, not as you do, simply lets it cascade down his neck and shoulders. Junmyeon lets himself get drenched, lets his clothes stick to his skin as though the droplets making streams on his arms were always a part of him. In his hand, he clutches his jacket, holds it limply at his side and regards you with an unreadable expression.

‘I know,’ you say, sounding tired and weak, though you did not mean to. ‘I saw.’

Somehow, your answer does not please him, makes him clench his jaw and shake his head to move the hair from his eyes. As always, Junmyeon is asking more of you, demanding you give all of yourself to him, and now, given the card that lingered on the table before you, you don’t think he will ever stop. The single card invigorated him, made his words fall quickly as he asked who over and over.

You did not want to hear the answer. You don’t think you could have stomached not hearing your name.

‘Did you feel it though?’ he presses, taking a step forward.

With a deep inhale, he regards you, eyes becoming electric and alive as he watches the rise and fall of your chest. It’s the same for you, you know, gaze fixed on the way the muscles of his chest heave beneath his shirt.

‘Feel what?’ you sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. ‘It’s just a card, Jun.’

This, you know, is a lie. Yes, it is just a card, but, oh, did you feel it. Seeing the words printed before you, the colours and the shape of all the complex feelings your heart bleeds into every thought and action around him, you felt it. You felt them all, all at once and without any restraint. And, in the aftermath, the fear.

The fear of change, the fear of rejection, the fear of love, the fear of more and, paradoxically, so much less. You fear it all, and now, all at once and with no preparation, you have to handle it as though the very notion not break you. It is not that you fear loving him, or him loving you, it’s that you fear the loss.

Always, it was unavoidable that you would love Junmyeon. Always, you knew it would happen. Not once, however, was it certain you would get together and, if you did, that you could stay together.

And so you let your shoulders droop, once again letting reality eat away at the magic he so desperately wants to taste.

‘It’s just a card,’ you repeat, weak and lost and waiting for the evening to be over.

At your words, a dam breaks within him, urging him forward and straight to your body. He drops his coat in favor of cupping your face between his hands, thumbs running over your cheeks in soft caresses that make your skin start to ache. His eyes search yours for answers, seeking and looking for things in you he could not find within himself or from a psychic.

‘It’s not just a card,’ he murmurs, and even through the rain you feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

Your heart fights against your sternum, battling wildly to get to him, to sit next to his heart and feel the inevitable relief of union. With his hands on you, even the sound of your own doubt cannot drown the rhythm of your heartbeat. Awash with him as you are, it becomes clear there is no escape from this, from the need and the want. He looks at you as though you are a secret, an answer he finally gets to touch, but still you cannot believe that it is true.

He is everything, and you are you, and so you say the only truth your mouth can form.

‘You’re going to fall in love.’

You are not sure if you intended the words to hurt, but his brow furrows as though he has suddenly taken to bleeding inwardly. As if it to stop the pain, you reach a hand to his chest and let your fingers fist in his shirt, the water from the fabric overflowing between the tightness of your grip.

‘What if I already am?’ he groans, moving to close the distance between your bodies.

Bringing an arm around your waist, he pulls you too him, and you feel his warmth radiate through your clothes as though he is impervious to the chill of the air. Resting his forehead against yours, he takes a moment to simply breathe with you, a shudder interrupting the even rhythm as you wrap your arms around his neck.

‘In love?’ you murmur, voice small and tight.

‘Falling,’ he clarifies, lowering his head to run his nose along your cheek. ‘Falling.’

Like this, you feel all of him, feel the way his lips kiss the words free with a reverence you learn he reserves only for you. With his body pressed tightly against yours, you feel the way his heartbeat quickens as your fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Slowly, you arch back to regard him, tongue burning with a truth that makes your blood feel like fire. A small moan escapes his lips at the feeling of your chest moving against his, and his eyes instantly fall to the exposed length of your neck.

Bringing a hand to his face, you stroke idly at his cheek and wipe the away the hair that has stubbornly fallen back into his eyes. When his gaze falls back to yours, you feel his hand clench around your shirt and sweater, punching them up and exposing the skin of your lower back.

‘I’ll catch you,’ you say, the words sounding easy and frighteningly harmless, regardless of the weight they carry.

As though he cannot help himself, and taking your words as permission, Junmyeon lets his lips hover above yours for a moment, commiting the smell of you to memory, before he kisses at your lips. Gently, he sucks at your bottom lip, running his tongue along the skin before nudging your lips apart for access. The same way he kisses you, so too does his tongue glide along yours, careful, slow, and meaning to take all of you with purpose and precision.

In his warms, an unprecedented warmth consumes you, makes your body feel as though it is weightless. Protected, safe, unlimited - Junmyeon makes you feel all the things your life had been missing, a bravery taking shape within you simply because the boy with hurricane eyes has decided he will love you.

And it is then that you realize, as he worships you down to your body and soul, that the world was not missing magic. Rather, you needed Junmyeon to let you feel it - his hands on you turning you into a sorceress of unimaginable strength. Junmyeon makes you feel strong, makes you feel needed, breathes magic into your lungs and lets the glitter of the world settle over you like dust.

Junmyeon is the magic, you realize. And never again will you let yourself go without.

514 notes · View notes

punch-you-with-friendship · 7 years

Text

The Thoughts That Follow

I was inspired to write a oneshot based on this thread. I have a new headcanon that Virgil as a teenager would totally have done that whole “everybody’s against me, everybody hates me” thing. So combine that with Thomas figuring out that he’s gay, and you get angst. Here we go!

Word count: 1.4K

Relationships: None

Warnings: Arguments, self-hatred, implied anxiety/panic attacks, food mention? (Always let me know if I missed any!)

“Oh my god,” Virgil said as he paced the length of the living room, both hands running through his hair. “Thomas actually did it. He told him.”

“Yes, Anxiety, you have reiterated this statement many times.” Logan tapped his fingers on the spine of his book. He had closed it an hour ago—Virgil wondered if he was aware he was still holding it. “We don’t need reminders, nor have we ever needed them.”

“Quiet, you. For once Oscar the Grouch might have reason to brood.” Roman grumbled. Virgil noticed Roman’s hand gripping the hilt of his sword. What’s he afraid of? Me?

“Oh come on, Roman, chin up! Thomas hasn’t even gotten a response yet.” Patton handed Logan and Roman each a mug of hot cocoa and walked back to the kitchen to fetch mugs for Virgil and himself.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Virgil objected. “Who knows how he might react! What if he’s disgusted? What if he thinks Thomas is confused? What if he cuts the friendship off right then and there?”

“That is technically possible, but I say it’s more likely that he’ll receive the news well. We all agreed this morning that he was the most suitable person to tell, correct?”

“Yeah, but… Thomas is gay. That’s not normal. He’s gonna think it’s a disease, oh god, what have we done…”

“Deep breaths, kiddo. It’ll all work out.” Patton reentered, holding two more mugs. He set Virgil’s down on the coffee table, but Virgil had no intention of drinking it.

“You’re so sure about that, Patton. Being gay can ruin your career right now. Why can’t it ruin a friendship?” Virgil turned around to walk across the room once more. His mind was racing. Why had Logan and Patton thought this would be a good idea?

“Josh isn’t like that! He’ll understand.” Patton smiled reassuringly.

Roman took a deep breath. “You might be right. Josh certainly knows the meaning of true platonic love.” He let go of the sword and ran his hand through his hair.

“See? Just take it easy, Anxiety. It’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that!” Virgil’s defenses were rising. He couldn’t have the others expecting it to go well in case they were proven wrong.

“I think we do. Just… Have a little faith.” Roman sipped his hot cocoa.

Virgil snarled. Now they were shaming him again! “Wow, what a great thing to tell the embodiment of Anxiety! I can just wish really hard for things to be okay, and I’ll get everything I want. Great advice!” What right do they have to be calm about this? Why are they treating it like it’s okay?

Logan raised his eyebrows. “Calm down. I believe what they meant to say was—”

“Shut up, shut up, of course you’re going to take their side—this was your stupid idea.”

Logan was taken aback. “Stupid?! Thomas was ready to come out! And keeping this secret was harming Patton’s emotional state!”

“Of course it was harming his emotional state! Everything harms his emotional state!” Oh no, too far. Patton whimpered. Virgil instantly hated himself for it.

Roman sent Virgil the usual glare. “You’re not helping this situation, Anxiety!”

“Really? What happened to ‘I might have reason to brood’?”

“You…!” Roman huffed, considering his words. “You have reason to be concerned, I’ll admit it. But not reason to whip us all into a panic! Merlin’s beard, Anxiety! Why do you have to make everything worse?”

Roman’s words stung, especially since they were true. But Virgil wasn’t going to let Roman know that he got to him. “I’m making everything worse?! Thomas just told someone his biggest secret! Josh might hate him now, and I’m still the bad guy?”

“Oh, good. Looks like you’re all taking this wonderfully.” The four aspects turned to see that Thomas had appeared at the doorway to the kitchen, phone in hand. He sat down on the couch next to Roman.

“Thomas. How are you holding up, kiddo?” Patton took a sip from his mug, looking relieved that the fighting had been cut off.

“Not too great. He still hasn’t texted me back…” Thomas stared at his phone. The conversation lead up to the words ‘I’m gay’, there in writing for Josh to read.

Virgil made a noise like a wounded animal. “What if he doesn’t ever text back? What if he just avoids you from now on?” That’d be even worse! At least if he replies back saying ‘I hate you’ we’ll know for sure how he feels.

“That would be incredibly difficult, considering he and Thomas have class together every day,” Logan commented as he adjusted his tie.

“You think that’s a good thing? If Josh decides he hates Thomas, we have to see him and be reminded of that every. Single. Day.”

Patton was staring at the ground, lost in his worries. Thomas reached out and grabbed his hand. “Anxiety, have you been doing this ever since I texted Josh?”

Virgil clenched his fists and kept pacing, refusing to meet Thomas’s eyes.

Thomas sighed. “You need to stop and let us help you. It’ll be okay.”

“I can’t stop! Don’t you see that?”

“Anxiety, you’re not making sense,” Logan posited.

“Shut up! Just stop talking!” Virgil stood in place, still grabbing at his head like there was something in it he needed to get out. His makeup was probably smeared by now, but he couldn’t care less.

“This isn’t an argument, Anxiety. We’re on the same team.” Thomas gave Virgil a look of concern.

“Y-yeah! I’m sure Josh will respond soon, and then everything will be okay.” Patton gave Virgil a plastered smile, but when Virgil responded with a withering glare, it faded from his face.

“How do you know? How do any of you know that this will all end with sunshine and hugs and best friends forever? There is a real chance that Josh is not going to accept Thomas, and I’m just trying to make sure we don’t forget that!”

Roman leapt to his feet. “Why? Why do we need to constantly be tormented by fear?”

Thomas looked wary. “Princey…”

“I am defending your honor, Thomas! You have some truly wonderful attributes, and you should not have to live constantly wondering who’s going to hate you next!” Roman was clearly fed up. Virgil looked at him with dismay.

“But what if—”

“No, Anxiety! Gay or not, Thomas is worthy of friendship! And Josh will not forget that fact just because of a little thing like Thomas’s sexuality!”

“But what if—”

“End of discussion!” Roman’s shoulders heaved. “I have had enough of you, Anxiety! Leave our presence!”

Virgil took a step back, breathing hard. He ran his gaze over the room—Patton was squirming uncomfortably, Thomas was looking at Virgil in shock, and Logan looked like he was on his guard, waiting for Virgil’s next move. Roman only continued to glare daggers.

They really hated him. Virgil hadn’t been sure up until that moment.

For a long second, everybody looked at Virgil.

Then he sank out. There was nothing left to say.

He collapsed on his bed. He spent the next few hours lying there, hugging his pillow, sobbing. He could hear hushed voices downstairs, no doubt talking about how happy they were to have Virgil gone. Tears snaked down his face, dyed black by his eyeshadow. No one came up to check on him.

You’re worthless. You’re a disgrace, a miserable excuse for a side.

Makeup got on his pillow, but it didn’t matter. Every pillowcase he owned had black eyeshadow stains.

You’re a menace. All you ever do is hurt people.

He was shaking. His head hurt. He couldn’t stop.

You make him panic. You make him sick. You’re everything that’s wrong with Thomas.

Time passed, and a loud text tone sounded downstairs, followed by laughter and sighs of relief. Virgil curled in on himself even more.

“He accepts me! Thanks for sticking it out, guys.”

Something ugly was clawing at Virgil’s insides. Don’t hate them. Don’t hate them. They don’t deserve that.

Hate yourself instead. It’s easy. You’ve always hated yourself. And who can’t see why?

You’re a disorder. You’re a freak. You should never have been formed.

You hate yourself so much. So you can’t blame them…

“See? I knew I was right!”

For hating you too.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #arguments #implied anxiety #self-hatred #food mention #my fics #fanfiction #tsfanfiction

157 notes · View notes

daughter-of-the-prophet · 6 years

Text

Dragon Age: Origins (Sad Moments Part 1)

The Revenants of the Black Vials quest. Each of them was bound, with a little note accompanying them describing the demon's crimes. The hard part of those is who had to bind them: First: Cale Viazagat, revenant and perversion of an only son. Second: Nethamas Bigal, revenant and perversion of a fine daughter. Third: Argruth Massaad, revenant and perversion of a treasured mother. Fourth: Quametha Kagat, revenant and perversion of an honored father. Fifth: Shamas Goodson, revenant and perversion of a rare friendship. Sixth: Anton Wither, revenant and perversion of a friend not met.

- Their own friends and families had to stand up their (in each case it seems, mass-murdering) demon-possessed corpse, defeat it and bind it. The fifth is marked with only five thumbprints instead of six (and has a note about weakness and forgiveness instead of rage), implying that the revenant was himself one of the former hunters. The last one was even signed in blood by a child.

- The act of binding the Revenants was likely a CMOA however, considering how dangerous they are.

Ruck's situation, the poor guy. He's half-mad, knows he's crazy, and is adamant that Ilona not tell his mother about him.

Ruck: “Nonononono! No Filda! No mother! No warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words! Ruck doesn't deserve good memories! No, no, NO!”

And the topper? When Ilona tells Filda that Ruck is alive, Filda rushes off to the Deep Roads alone to find her son.

The death of Niall in the Fade.

Duncan's death at the Battle of Ostagar. He's left alone in the middle of the battlefield, fatally injured, cradling King Cailain's body with an expression of utter failure, clearly aware that Loghain has betrayed them, watching as the darkspawn overwhelm and slaughter anyone still left on the battlefield. His last act is to look up at the Tower of Ishal (where Ilona and Alistair are still holed up), with an expression of deepest regret for having seemingly led them both to their deaths, before looking around to see the darkspawn general and the rest of the horde make their final assault, unable to do more than stare down the charging darkspawn as the beast pulls back its axe for the deathblow, helped along by the incredibly Sad Battle Music playing at this point.

After Ilona convinces Zathrian to end the curse in the "Nature Of The Beast" quest, the subsequent cutscene is heartbreaking. It shows Zathrian surrounded by the werewolves he cursed, facing the Lady of the Forest, and the two sharing a long, emotional look. He slowly raises his staff, strikes it on the floor, and gets this peaceful, contented look on his face as he lets go of all his old hatred and rage before collapsing in death. The werewolves then crowd around their beloved Lady, reaching out to touch her one last time before the curse is lifted and she vanishes; you can tell that they truly did love her and are deeply saddened to see her leave them, even if it means they are free. Beautifully heartbreaking, and it's all conveyed by gesture and facial expressions.

Hespith's final speech before vanishing into the darkness: maybe it's because her Creepy Monotone starts to crack very slightly here, maybe it's because it's not established what she does afterwards (she has a choice between suicide and A Fate Worse Than Death), but it really is depressing:

Hespith: “But the true abomination... is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka... my love... The Stone has punished me, dream friend. I am dying of something worse than death... Betrayal.”

- Listen closely and you can hear the sound of something falling to the ground after she leaves the frame.

- Also sad is that she feels nothing but guilt that she couldn't sway Branka from her madness.

Hespith: “I was her captain, and I did not stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her... but no, she cannot be forgiven.”

Ilona talking to Alistair about his time with the Grey Wardens. Alistair tells her that he really misses Duncan and wishes that he could have something to remember him by.

Ilona admitting to the Guardian of the Gauntlet that she blames herself for the death of her mother and father, believing they would still be alive if she had stayed and defended them to death. Her friends comfort her and tell her that it wasn’t her fault.

When the Guardian asks Sten if he feels he has failed his people by killing the family who saved him:

Sten: “I have never denied that I failed.”

Oghren's response to The Guardian is even more tear-inducing. Keep in mind that at this point Oghren has gone through the loss of his house, his caste, and even killing his own wife in self-defense. Despite all that he doesn't voice to the party anything beyond mild discontent. When The Guardian questions him, however, Oghren solidifies his Woobie status.

The Guardian: “Ah, the dwarf. You left your home and came to the surface, knowing that-”

Oghren: “Why don't I save you some time? Yes, I wish I could have saved my family from Branka. I wish I could have been a better mate; maybe she would have stayed home with a belly full of baby Oghren and never gone for the Anvil. Maybe I failed her. And yes, I came to the surface because I'm barely a dwarf anymore. My family is dead, my honor as a warrior long gone. I've lost my caste and my house, and I have nothing else to lose!”

Loghain's 'Daughters never grow up' speech to Anora just before Alistair executes him at the Landsmeet. No matter how much you hate him during the rest of the story, it's this moment that really shows his humanity and that, despite the huge evidence to the contrary, he genuinely cares for his daughter.

The first portion of the Gauntlet after answering the riddle posed by the spirit of Maferath, Andraste's mortal husband. It's the regret in his voice, particularly in the last sentence.

Maferath: “Yes, jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Alammari... but beside her, I was nothing. Thousands fell before her on bended knee. They loved her, as did the Maker. I loved her too, but what man can compare to a god?”

A small one from Morrigan: After she tells Ilona about Flemeth, she asks the Warden about her own mother. When Ilona tells her that her mother died very recently Morrigan's face contorts somewhat sadly, and she offers her genuine sympathy.

Another one from Morrigan, when Ilona gives her the mirror. When Ilona tells her it's merely a gift and expects nothing in return, Morrigan is at a complete loss for words, while sounding like she's trying to hold back a river of tears.

During one conversation Morrigan tells Ilona how much she means to her as a friend, even regarding her as a sister. Then, when it comes time to part ways during the Battle of Denerim, she tells Ilona to live, long and gloriously.

Zevran's last mission before going after the Grey Wardens, along with his reasons for making the bid for the task of slaying the Wardens.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #sad moments #tear jerker

2 notes · View notes

nahmooste · 7 years

Text

Why We Lose, pt. 1

pairing/s: Tetsuya Naito / Female OC, BUSHI / Female OC warnings: manipulation, cheating, swearing, mostly sfw a/n: here’s another multi-chap fic involving my favourite asshole, other members of LIJ, and an appearance from the IWGP champ in the next part. i’m excited to write this! also Hena is lowkey crazy, but it’s fun writing her :^) tags: @wrestlingismyfavourite @devittsbalor @fireangel1978 @laziestgirlintheworld @ghostofviper @onewingedgloria @littleblueghostspoon @narwhalneglect @princesstoniii @keltic-goddess

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

She stands with her hands on her hips, shorts slung ridiculously low and shirt barely covering her stomach, and something about the way she’s standing gathers Tetsuya Naito’s attention entirely. He glances up at her from his televised baseball game, frowns a little. As if he’s confused. As if he has the right to be confused. “What?”

She shoves her phone in his face, squeezes it so tightly her knuckles are white. “What the fuck’s this, huh?”

He inspects the photo closely for a second, an eyebrow lifting to his hairline. He knows exactly what it is. She can see it on his face, in the way his eyes are emotionless. Tossing the phone down onto the couch, she slaps him hard enough that his head snaps to the side. He thumbs the corner of his mouth, trails his tongue along his lip.

“Wanna explain to me why you’re stupid enough to get caught sucking face with some fucking slut?!”

“Hena…”

“Don’t Hena me, you piece of shit!” She yells at him, slaps him again. “I’m your wife! I don’t care what the fuck you do on tour as long as you come home to me, but this? This, Tetsuya? I knew you were a womaniser but I didn’t think you were a dumbass.”

She wants to scream at him more, tell him to get the fuck out of her life, but the honest truth is that Hena loves him. She’s married him. She knew what Tetsuya Naito was like before she said yes to him, even before she started dating. She’s made a somewhat honest man out of him— out of sight, out of mind, she thinks. But the photo— the fact that Tetsuya was reckless enough to do something like that… it makes her see red.

But she’s slapped him twice. Ignited a fire in him which almost matches hers in intensity. His ears, underneath that mane of orange hair, are bright red. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter, Tetsuya.”

Naito launches out of his seat and stands nose to nose with her, makes her crane her head back so she doesn’t wither under his imposing figure. He raises a hand to her neck and presses his thumb right into her throat. “I bought this house. Everything in it, too. And I married you, so if I’m not mistaken… everything under this roof belongs to me. Slap me one more time and you’ll have nothing.”

He lets her go so suddenly that goosebumps raise on her arms. Naito sits back down on the couch and resumes watching his game, looks so unbothered by everything that’s just happened that Hena almost can’t believe it. “You’re not even going to apologise?”

Silence is his answer.

She snatches her phone from the couch and storms to their room, chucks on a light jacket and grabs her purse before stalking back through the living room to the front door.

“Where are you going?” Naito calls out to her, and he stares after her in a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Somewhere you’re not. If you won’t leave, I will.”

Hena yanks the front door open and is gone before her husband can run after her.

Honestly, she doesn’t even know where she’s going. All she knows is that she’s angry and the only way to make Naito see how bad he’s fucked up is to make him jealous, which he hasn’t been for a very long time. And Hena isn’t stupid; she knows that she’s attractive, otherwise Naito wouldn’t have stuck with her this long. She knows there’s some jealousy on the other end of the Los Ingobernables members— it’s why she isn’t allowed to drink with them. Because, just like her husband, when Hena gets drunk… she gets handsy. With everyone.

And as she’s trying to formulate a plan of revenge in her head, Hena can’t help but stop at Bushi. At Hiromu. Tetsuya’s brothers, almost. And attractive, she admits.

It doesn’t take too long for the taxi to arrive at Bushi’s apartment.

She waits for someone to exit the building and sneaks in, smiles at the guard who stares at her suspiciously. She presses the button for Bushi’s level and when she knocks at his door, it doesn’t take too long for him to answer.

“Hena?” He frowns, caution evident on his features as he glances out into the hall for any sign of his leader. “Where’s Tetsuya?”

“At home,” she says lowly. “I just… needed someone to talk to.”

She knows that what she’s doing is manipulative. That the boys might hate her after this, but she’s so, so incredibly beyond mad that she doesn’t care. She wants Naito to hurt. She wants him to hurt like he made her hurt.

Bushi pulls the door open wider for her and ushers her in, asks if she wants a glass of water or anything, and she turns down his kind offer. “Just a shoulder,” she says, sitting down on the edge of his L shaped couch. He sits diagonal to her, knee gently bumping hers.

“What’s wrong?”

Hena meets his concerned eyes for a moment before dropping staring at the floor. “He’s an asshole. He was stupid enough to get photographed kissing someone else, and someone, a fucking fan, sent it to me.”

Bushi rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Hena… I mean, you married him knowing this was a possibility. Through thick and thin, right?”

“I know, I know, Bushi, I just…” she sighs and leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees, buries her face in her hands. “I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.”

When Bushi reaches forward to place a gentle hand on her thigh, Hena bites her lip. Her eyes are teary enough that when she looks at him, it looks like she’s been crying, and the face that Bushi makes… he feels sorry for her. Like he knows she deserves better, even if her husband is an asshole. Hena drops her hand to his. Squeezes a little, but doesn’t let it go.

“I can’t help but think… fuck, I feel so stupid…” Hena laughs it off, finally drops Bushi’s hand.

“Can’t help but think what?”

She glances at him from under her lashes. Smiles ruefully, pulls her lip back into her mouth. “Think that maybe if it were someone else, they’d treat me better.”

He understands what she implies immediately. She sees his visible swallow and shifts a little closer to him. “Maybe,” he murmurs, “I just hope that whatever he does, he makes you happy. It’s a shame to see such a beautiful lady cry, after all.”

She stares at the Japanese wrestler with hopeful eyes. “Stop my tears, then.”

Bushi doesn’t miss a beat— the romantic-at-heart grabs her face softly and presses his lips to hers, kisses her so gently that he’s gone a second later. His eyes are wide, like he’s just made a horrible, horrible mistake, but that look disappears when Hena chases his mouth with her own. She kisses him back, presses into him until he’s sitting and her knees are either side of his.

He tastes like a weird concoction of coffee and green tea, his smell just as intoxicating. His gentle hands curl around to the back of her head, and one continues its way down until it’s sitting against the skin of her waist.

Slowly, enough so that he won’t know, Hena pulls her phone from her back pocket, and out of the corner of her eye, she slides the camera up until it shows her kissing Bushi. She takes the photo. Slides the phone back into her pocket. Pulls away from the kiss with hooded eyes and red cheeks. “Bushi…”

“We shouldn’t be doing this...”

Hena kisses him again, draws her lips down his neck until all she can smell is his cologne. She breaths into his neck, savours the feeling of how gently he’s holding her. “Naito has made his choice, I’ve made mine.”

But the moment seems to fade from him. He puts both his hands on her shoulders and slides out from under her, lithe as a cat, stares at her for a long moment before making his own choice. When he walks towards the door, Hena knows she shouldn’t fight him. She knows what the wise option is here.

“You should go.”

She doesn’t even look at him as she leaves.

#tetsuya naito fanfiction #tetsuya naito #asshole tetsuya #tetsuya bushi #BUSHI #bushi fanfiction #LIJ fanfiction #njpw fanfiction #current writing #multichap fic

21 notes · View notes