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echo-three-one · 3 years

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A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

This is Chapter 6 (is everyone still counting)

Link to the beginning here

Prev (V - Alex)

Next (VII - Alex)

Reviews and comments appreciated as I would like to grow as a writer

Content Warning ⚠️ below chapter title as to avoid spoilers (if anybody cares about being spoiled)

VI - Samantha

CONTENT WARNING : Kidnapping, Mind Control and Being bound and gagged.

Her back leaned against the cold stone wall sending a jolt of shivers across her body. She wriggled around, trying to move but despite not being bound ang gagged, she couldn't talk.

She found herself in an empty room, an interrogation table with a swinging lightbulb at the center ominously matching its swing with the thunping of her heart. No one was pushing it but instead of swinging slowly like it should be, it went faster and faster along with her heart.

She blinked. Maxine sat across the chair behind the interrogation table. Eyes and mouth covered, her expression almost lifeless. She tried to call out her name but no voice came out. She blinked again. Two shady men with heavy thumping boots marched toward her. Their steps matching along with the heartbeat and the swing of the lightbulb.

She closed her eyes permanently praying this will all be over soon. Afraid that when she opened her eyes another set of horrors would appear.

"You're safe here." a faint male voice echoed against the room, lighting up the whole area. She peeked slowly as the room was now well lit, she saw the abductors run away from the light, bringing Maxine with them. She tried to scream out her name one last time but she was slowly being guided by what seemed to be polica authorities back to safety.

"We'll get her back soon. Don't worry." She remembered Alex telling her that before she slept. She couldn't trust a normal person to say that to her so she starts to doubt the credibility of this man.

Samantha took a deep breath as she slowly came back to her senses. It smelled quite odd which made her whiff again. It's way too far from Maxine's shampoo or cologne, it almost smelled...

Manly.

That's when she remembered. Her eyes quickly opened to the view of a bare chest followed by a very well carved set of abs and her thighs just below it. Her heart raced once again as she slowly tilted her head up to look at the man whom she was leaning to.

It was Alex. He looked peacefully asleep, his arms bent behind his bed showing off the colored tattoes covering his biceps. A soft snore escapes his mouth as her head starts to feel the rising and falling of his chest.

She can't believe the circumstances she found herself in, shaking her head in disagreement, slowly moving away from him in an attempt to not wake him up. 'Really Samantha. You didn't even let him wear anything?!' she said to herself in shame as she slowly steps out of his apartment. Mentally apologizing for stealing his shirt and sweatpants.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She has to find Maxine. She quietly closed his door and descended to the streets of her city, making her way back to her apartment. Her thoughts were clouded with circumstances surrounding her dream, Maxine, the abductors, the voice that lit the whole room. She convinced herself it wasn't Alex, it could probably be someone else... someone she's been trying to forget but she can't. But then again, those words would fit Alex at all. Maybe because he was beside her whole night. Maybe she heard him from way outside her dream.

Her cheeks suddenly turned red as she once again remembered how she clung on to Alex. If she did that for the whole evening, then she possibly couldn't see him ever again. It was too embarrassing for her to cross paths with him again. She knew full well that what they had going on was not gonna be what she wants to happen. She could feel him having no actual interest in her, he was just being friendly because she believes he's trying to pry information from her. She's convinced that Alex is somehow involved in Maxine's loss.

Shaking her head and clearing her mind from all thoughts regarding that man she won't name anymore, she slowly ascended the wooden steps of her apartment, hoping for Maxine's safety.

She swung the door open, peeking at their room seeing Maxine plopped on the sofa.

"Maxine!" she shrieked in excitement as she grabbed her and hugged her tight.

"Hey Sam, why the tight hug?" She asked, patting her back and escaping from her warm embrace. Tears fell from Samantha's eyes as Maxine pushes her and tried to ask her about her weird behavior.

"What's wrong with you? I just went out last night. Oh and by the way I met a pecuiliar guy at the bar last night. He says he knows you.

Samantha's head pinged and she looked at her with raised eyebrows. Could it be...

"Does he go by Alex? You know, brown hair, blue eyes and a whole lotta tattoos on his arms?" Maxine's eyes widened at the accuracy of Samantha's description.

"So you met? Since when? I was still about to set you up today!" She got up, looking shocked.

"That was last Friday night! You went missing just last night!" Samantha corrected.

"I swear I'm right. That's what my mind could recall." Maxine trailed off to the kitchen as they make breakfast.

Samantha wanted to go back to Alex. She had a feeling he would know what to do. But because of last nights embarrassing act of stupidity, she'd best be letting this mishap slide.

Samantha noted that at certain times of day, Maxine would just stare out the window, and everytime she calls her out, Maxine wouldn't respond. As if she couldn't hear her even at close proximity. At this point, she began to extremely worry and texted Alex about her friend's situation not minding meeting him again. She thought that she shouldn't let personal things interfere at this kind of danger.

But she was all too late. She didn't expect that she was dazed for a reason. She wished she never left Alex's apartment. She wished she kept on hugging him for just a little more while.

Her eyes were open but she couldn't see a thing, her mouth was open but she couldn't say a word. She was bound and gagged, but this time it's for real. She didn't show any sign of struggle as the foreign people pushed her, babbling using their language it almost felt they were bickering.

And then she found herself in a laboratory of some sort, wincing as the harsh lamp light flashed across her. An old man donning a lab coat covered the light.

"We finally got you, Samantha Coleman. Smile at the camera so I can send this to your father dearest." The old man spoke, each word irritated her. A tear fell from her eyes as she remembered how her father tried to promise her that his work wouldn't interfere her. She knew it isn't his fault entirely but somehow fate tangled her up to thid point. She isn't gonna survive this.

"I want something that you have. You may not know it, but I know you saw it." He cackled injecting her with some sort of anaesthetic. She knows this because as soon as 30 seconds she already felt sleepy and her mind began to black out.

***

Samantha found herself by the pier, just beside Charlie, her boyfriend's families' yacht. They're out for their annual family summer outing and she can't join as she has to look after her mother who's at the hospital.

"Babe, I'll send you pictures once I get a signal. I promise. I'll also pray for your mom while we're there..." Connor smiled at her, the strong seaside gust blew his collar, as she held her sun hat tight.

"Thanks honey, you take care there, okay?" Samantha's words started to echo in the background as the horizon quickly shifted from day to night.

Maxine sat beside her as uncontrollable tears flowed out of her eyes. It has been a full day since she last heard from Connor and word was his whole family hasn't returned yet.

"Do we need these?" a muffled voice was echoing from the sky. Samantha just sat there, unbothered by the strange noises in the sky, her tears start to fall on her real body.

"It's still a failed project. It's supposed to look for memories but this is the one she's recalling."

"So how do we know if she'll show us her memories of the code?!" a loud slam translated as thunder in her dream.

"I don't know Boss Nero, maybe we could influence her to think of the code."

"Listen, Princess. Think of your childhood memories. Think of what you saw when you accidentally looked on your Daddy's drawer."

Samantha winced as her memory swirled back to her childhood. She heard excited laughter from the sky as she found herself in her room, as a kid. The radio from her dream immediately interrupted her as news flash about a missing yacht, cruise ship and cargo ships that sailed on that fateful day when Connor had his family vacation. Hundreds of people were either dead or missing and the main cause that was officially declared was a storm and big waves. Many speculate about possible pirate invasions but their wreckage wasn't found.

She found herself back at the pier. The sky started yelling curse words angrily toward her. Then another loud sound manifested as thunder.

"Boss Nero, we're being compromised! Multiple armed forces are out for us.

"Gah! Of course they're catching up to us! Quick evacuate and do not engage whenever possible. Let's save our numbers for later."

"What about her?"

"She's still induced. She's just going to be a pain to carry. Leave her be. If they successfully retrieve her they won't be after us." Nero commanded as they left the scene.

Samantha on the other hand, was trapped in her own personal memory realm, flashing about the moments where she felt utter sadness when she found out that her boyfriend was gone forever.

#wow that's longer than usual #chapter 6 #codmw #codmwfic #Alex x OC #hello people reading my tags

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lunaticpuppetmaster · 3 years

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My contribute for Konoha Simps server collab!

Trying to do both drabble and an art was a poor decidion as i am a lil bit late.

Special Thanks to @pfreadsandwrites who beta-readed this drabble!

Title: Lost and Found.

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x OC (Tsubasa Yuki)

Summary: Everyone knows that everything you lose will end up in your soulmates possesions. Some people go crazy trying to find their destined one with practically no information. Tsubasa was never interested in finding hers and there is a chance she would never be able to.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

Word count: 6907

When the first symptoms of the family curse appeared, Tsubasa already knew she was doomed. The sickness was rare and there wasn’t much information about it in the Yuki clan library even before the genocide, while after it… well, no information survived. To be honest she did not have much hope at the beginning when her ice-natured chakra just only started to act like a parasite, eating her body and breaking thin bones.

But her sensei had. Mei had always been protective of her pupils, acting like a big sister even after the trio passed the chunin exam. So, when the worst happened, she used all her resources in order to save one of them. Unfortunately, even Kirigakure medics famous for their body knowledge were unsuccessful. The only hope was the best medic alive, Tsunade-hime herself.

Tsubasa did not know how she convinced Tsunade to help or what she promised to her (probably rare Kiri herbs), but the sannin agreed to work on her case. She didn’t promise a cure. To the girl’s pleasure, unlike her sensei, the 5th hokage was rational and she stated right from the start that the chances of recovery were very low and more likely she would just extend the Yuki girl’s agony. It was hurtful, but honest. Tsubasa always respected honesty… and her sensei. She had no other choice, but to promise Mei that she will fight till the end even though she did not want to.

“Maybe you will find your soulmate there,”- said Mei before her departure.

Mei was one of those people who always wanted to find their soulmate, however that was not the reason why she said it. She appreciated different manifestations of love: between friends, parental, sisterly and etc. She also knew that Tsubasa was a pessimist and even the love of people who were close to her was not enough to restore her will to live. At least if she were deeply in love with her soulmate, Mei hoped that Tsubasa could finally find the strength to fight.

Soulmates were always a bone of contention between different social groups: commoners, nobility and shinobi. Especially the last one. Missions and loyalty towards the village must be a number one priority for a ninja. But with soulmates everything became much harder.

Still even the biggest soulmate deniers tried their best to ‘lose things’. Even though little was known about soulmates nature, over the years people were able to learn a couple of useful things:

1 - Every item you lose will end up in your soulmate’s possessions.

2 - You cannot send a letter or any kind of writing this way.

3 - You cannot just throw away a random thing in the air or leave it intentionally on a park bench. So, you must really lose the thing to make it reach your soulmate.

The world was never peaceful. Neither for commoners nor shinobi, so desire to help for so called “true one” was understandable. People tried to tie various useful items with slim strings to their clothes like meds and water. When it came to shinobi they usually tied small scrolls to their bags or jackets hoping that during fights the thread would be cut or ripped and the item lost. Such scrolls were usually filled with food, kunais or ninja pills. Supplies that suddenly appeared managed to save some shinobi on the verge of death more than once. So even soulmate deniers had an opinion that it was practical to help the soulmate and very rude to ignore it. Help for help, life for life, nothing more. Tsubasa was one such person.

Of course, every skilled shinobi could tell from which village the lost item appeared.

Yuki’s soulmate for example was from Konoha. Her teammate Hiroto recognized a specific plant in a found ninja pill. So, she had some chances to run into him during her stay.

But Tsubasa did not want a soulmate. She did not need some stranger. She wanted to stay in Kiri and spend her last days with people she loved with all her heart and soul. Hadn’t she suffered enough? It didn’t look like it.

This was how she ended up in Konoha; or rather in a spare room of Yamanaka-hime’s house. Although Tsunade made efforts, in Yuki’s opinion, she clearly did not have an intention to heal her, but to collect information about how the disease proceeds under various factors, in order to save other unfortunate ones… Tsubasa could tell it from her students. Tsunade put her under the care of somewhat inexperienced newbies, ones who could crawl into her head and feel the patient’s condition themselves. Tsubasa did not blame her for that. She would be happy if her death could help someone. The girl rather felt sorry for distracting Ino from her more important patients. The hime herself was cheerful and sunny person, but in moments that required professionalism she could turn cold and focused with the flick of a finger. “She would be a perfect clan leader one day,” Tsubasa thought.

To be honest Yamanaka’s jutsu was useful for more than just therapy. When they first met, Yuki just simply let Ino read her mind and see her past. It was much faster and easier, plus all the secret information she knew as an ANBU was sealed. In order to get it, they would have had to use much stronger and more traumatic jutsu (and of course torture). Moreover, she was going to die soon, so did it really matter how many people knew her story?

Though when Tsubasa saw the girl’s blank face after reading her mind, she felt guilty. The blonde stayed silent for a few seconds before giving her a hug. She did not need words to say that she will do her best.

Ino was easy to befriend. She also was good at distracting from negative thoughts. Between her regular Tsunade checkups and preparations for missions (It was important to monitor the development of the disease in the field, and all missions would be related to information gathering about the Yuki clan) they were chatting, watching movies and sometimes working in the flower shop. Thanks to Tsubasa’s honey-coloured hair most people mistook her as a distant relative of Yamanaka, so no one asked questions.

Once they ended up talking about soulmates. It started when Ino found some spilled ink on her carpet one day. Hime did not know much about her soulmate except he was really… an artistic type. Through the years she collected various brushes, pencils, erasers and doodles. Once she even found a whole sketchbook (unfortunately half torn)! But there was one thing that made her upset. He never “lost” anything to help her like the majority did.

“Maybe he is from a strict ninja family or a specific ANBU team”, she said with a sad smile.

If Ino’s soulmate was artistic, Tsubasa’s was… quite “special”. Because only a “special” person would end up losing a 6-kilo bag of dog food. Even now, after seven years Tsubasa sometimes wondered ‘how?’.. It was not a pen or a trinket which could be easily left on an academy desk, but a giant bag of dog food! No, he was a good soulmate who was “losing” supplies for her (that once saved her teammate’s life) unlike Ino’s, but still… Even when the blonde heard about it, she could not believe it and then started to laugh hysterically. After such silly small talks Tsubasa felt like she wasn’t fully alone in this foreign village. It almost felt like she had found a friend.

Unlike the other forced teammate.

Every village had a system of having at least 3 people in a team. Moreover, Tsubasa was suffering from her disease and Ino concentrated on helping her. They needed another member.

Tsubasa did not like him from the start. He was loud, narcissistic, clingy and insolent. The kunoichi was easily fed up with his behaviour. She spat out what exactly she thought of him to his face before going back to the Yamanaka estate. Only when she was alone in her room, she understood all her stupidity. She shouldn’t have acted so idiotic and lose her cool. It was essential for a ninja. She also understood why he was chosen among all of the shinobi. As a member of the Inuzuka clan he had a ninken who was already big enough to carry a man. It would be useful in case she became unconscious due to the illness. But she could not help it. A lot of bad things were going on in her life. She felt useless and helpless since she was banned from using her ice chakra. Mei also banned her from using anything that would hide her emotions. She thought that Tsubasa finally needed to learn how to speak and deal with new people. Babysitting was not helpful, so she wanted to try something more radical. Tsubasa understood, but understanding wasn’t enough to cope with the stress. Now she was sitting in the corner of her room shivering. Usually, she would take her father’s mask – the only thing left after his death- and put the cold material close to her forehead thinking what he would say or do. She couldn’t do it any longer. Some of her belongings and a mask were lost during a powerful chakra release at the beginning of the disease.

A few minutes passed before she started to feel better. A sudden knock on the door took her out of thoughts. Tsubasa went to open it thinking it would be Ino. Unfortunately, it was him. The cause for today’s bad mood and their third teammate – Kiba Inuzuka himself. She sighed and looked at him through the door, hiding most of her body behind it. The young man in front of her hesitated and looked a little bit strange or uncertain.

”Listen, I came here to apologise.“

Tsubasa raised her brow. Surely she should have been the one to apologise?. Plus, the boy looked like someone who would rather make a bunch of excuses and snap back than accept he was wrong.

“Well, I shouldn’t have invaded your personal space in the first place.” He scratched the back of his head and looked away. Judging by his behavior, the girl started to understand what actually made his behavior change.“And …uhm, Ino told me about your case so…”

“Showed you,” said Yuki her guess as a statement.

”She d-did not show me much!”

”That’s okay. I don’t mind and Ino knows that.”

“Anyway, I want to start on a clean slate. Here, take it. It’s a half mask and a bottle of blue paint so you can customize it with your clan symbol.”

”Actually…”

“I know that you are not allowed to use anything to hide your emotions, but it is a half mask and I made the holes for eyes bigger so your emotions will be perfectly visible. This is not technically breaking the rule and you will definitely feel better due to your um… well, habit. Just enjoy it, okay? I have to go now, bye!

“W-wait! I cannot…”

But the boy already left, forcing the girl to accept.

After that, though the relationship between the trio smoothed out, it was far from perfect. Tsubasa preferred to act more as a solo player despite her health condition, Kiba was still too loud and tried to act like the leader he never was and Ino … Ino tried not to go crazy in this whole mess called a team. However, overall, their missions were rather calm. Perhaps the three of them needed time to get used to each other before they could accept the others’ faults and learn to compromise. The tension completely disappeared at rest time, when tired teenagers passed time by talking to each other. Often they talked about soulmates. Someone was consulting with others about what would be more useful to seal in a tie-down scroll, the other one was looking through a travel bag for new supplies (or accidentally dropped useless things), another was thinking about loud who their soulmate might be. On one of such days, all of a sudden Tsubasa discovered earrings in a sealed scroll. They were simple and consisted of three deep blue feathers each. The girl looked at them in surprise, not knowing how to react. But, on the contrary, Ino reacted too happily.

“These are so cute! And they match your eye color! Quite a nice present for a soulmate that has never seen you.”

“This must have been a mistake.”

“It was in a scroll. How could this be a mistake? Looks like your soulmate really wishes to meet you and…”

“I don’t need a soulmate, Ino! Like, I don’t believe in perfect matches made by spiritual forces or some sort. I never wanted to have him in the first place! I have a dream to achieve, a family in Kiri. No way if I survive, I will leave it all behind because of some questionable romance! That’s ridiculous!”

Ino sighed and Kiba remained silent. The conversation came to an end. But not the attention from Tsubasa’s soulmate or their mission.

One of those days, when all sorts of cute things and sweets instead of standard ammunition began to show up in Tsubasa’s scrolls more and more, their group stumbled upon really strong opponents. The longer the battle continued the more obvious it became that they were not going to win. Unless Tsubasa broke the rule and used her clan’s abilities. Mei’s order, both as sensei and as Mizukage, always stood above many moral principles for Yuki, but now it was a completely different case. Neither Ino nor Kiba with the sweetest and bravest Akamaru should have been involved in this from the very beginning. They were not supposed to die or risk their lives because of some terminally ill girl from another village and a questionable contract between their Kages. They must live, survive and Tsubasa made up her mind. At first, she managed to eliminate a couple of ninjas and slightly injure the rest using the element of surprise. She was incredibly lucky, because the disoriented opponents were much easier to finish off for Kiba and Ino. Tsubasa by this moment had already lost her eyesight from the tension and saw the battlefield only as a set of white and light gray colors. She lost her breath and her strength to stand upright. But it was nothing compared to the pain that washed over her seconds later.

The kunoichi screamed in pain as she felt blood filling her mouth and an ice crust covering her internal organs. She fell on the cold dusty ground, heart-rendering screams leaving her lips with the blood pulsing her temples, ice needles tearing the muscles of her arms and legs. It seemed like nothing existed except for the all-consuming pain. Through the wall of never-ending white noise, she heard the sounds of Ino’s commands and Akamaru’s frightened barking. This was the last thing she felt before passing out.

Tsubasa woke up with a heavy head and pain all over her body. She listened to her senses before opening her eyes… and it would have been better not to listen to them. Someone brazenly pressed her close to their body and sniffed into the ear. When she opened her eyes the girl immediately screamed. In general, it was a completely normal reaction when you find yourself half-dressed in the arms of an equally half-dressed man. Of course, given that she was half-asleep, her only response was a stream of unpleasant curses and swearing. At first Kiba, who was still sleepy, was happy that the girl woke up, but soon joined the exchange of curses until a joyful, but terribly tired Ino ran up to them, immediately trying to interrupt the catfight and change the topic. Kiba waved his hand resentfully and went off in an unknown direction. Ino stayed with Tsubasa alone.

“Sit down and drink this.”

“Okay, but can I ask you a question first? What the hell happened here?”

”Your disease went out of control. I could barely suppress it. This time it was… too strong. Not like before. When I was finally able to improve your condition, you were still unconscious, your temperature dropped to terribly low levels, and some ice crystals did not disappear. We didn’t risk taking you back to the village in such poor condition. At first, we tried to wrap you up warm, but that didn’t help. Your clothes were quickly soaked by the cold coming from you and it only aggravated your condition. Then we decided that we would warm you one by one with the heat of our bodies. Well, Akamaru too.

Tsubasa howled in embarrassment and Ino sighed.

“Don’t worry. I think Kiba understands what the situation looked like for you. Or he will understand. He is a hot-head, you know, and he needs some time to calm down. But he will.”

”Still, that doesn’t change the fact that I snapped at him twice for literally nothing, especially the last time when I should have said ‘thank you for trying to save my dumb ass’. I feel terrible.”

The blonde girl patted her dejected friend on the shoulder and then said, “ Drink the medicine or, I swear to God, you will regret that you woke up.

The group’s return journey took place in silence. Despite the fact that Tsubasa apologized to Kiba and he accepted the apology, the kunoichi was still tormented by her conscience. She needed to apologize to him properly. Stealing a glance at the still visible ice crystals on her hand, a thought flashed through her: “While I can still do it.”

Night is definitely a wonderful and mysterious time of the day. Too bad that not everyone can enjoy its beauty, but there are also some who would be glad to miss it. For example, some unfortunate souls from the Inuzuka clan. It just so happened that a heightened sense of smell was not the only animal trait some clan members shared. Heightened hearing, too. In battle it was somewhat useful while in everyday life - irritating. During the day, in a mixture of noises, it did not cause much discomfort, but at night, when all the sounds disappeared, a can kicked by a drunk felt like a hit in the head. It is not surprising that such “lucky” clan members often suffered from insomnia and generally lived in the rhythm of night owls, which was very difficult for the shinobi world, where everyone was entirely early birds.

So was Kiba. However, tonight it felt different. His day was active and the sounds on the street did not disturb him, still he could not sleep. It seemed that the whole atmosphere of the house became more and more oppressive with every second spent inside, and the inner desire to walk through the village at night became stronger with every minute. He just wanted to go outside and run. He did not know where, but somewhere, where it was important for him to be now. In the end, when he accepted the fact that he obviously would not sleep today, the young man called his faithful dog and quietly left the house. The night was calm and fresh from the recent rain. Perhaps even too much, but it did not bother Kiba. He gladly wandered through old village streets, breathing in deeply the cold night air until he found himself near the playground. Or better to say, found someone.

Tsubasa sat on the swing all hunched up, almost motionless like a statue, and although this time her face wasn’t hidden by a mask, but her honey hair, Kiba knew that the girl was clearly not radiating joy.

“May I sit?,” he asked. Tsubasa didn’t even flinch.

“Yes.”

Kiba looked at the girl. When they first met, she was strong, cold and impenetrable. A true warrior. But now things were different. As a shinobi, he was not afraid to die on the battlefield, surrounded by dead and, possibly, even rotting bodies. But seeing a person fade like this, when they were unable to do anything about their state, when they burned out like a candle, turning with every second into a pale copy of their former self is what really scared him. At first, he didn’t care much what would happen to Yuki, but now, when her life glimmered on a candle stub, saving her was important. Either she will survive, and he will get rid of animal all-consuming fear, or her pale face, disfigured by illness, in the tongues of the funeral flame will haunt him till the end of his days.

Akamaru rested his head on Tsubasa’s lap. Still lost in her heavy thoughts, Yuki let her hands go of the swing chain and started to mechanically stroke and scratch the ninken behind the ears.

”Hey Tsu, I know that you are that type of shinobi who tries to follow the code perfectly. But we are not made of steel. You are not made of steel. You are feeling bad and tired. It’s unlikely that I will hear something that Ino did not show me or did not hear from you. Sharing pain as a shinobi is hard, but it’s even harder to keep your cool when you are on the verge of being broken by your own emotions. Even though I talk too much, anything you tell me tonight will stay here, I promise. So, tell me what’s eating you.

”You’re right. I am tired. I am weak, although I’ve tried to prove myself otherwise for my whole goddamn life. Even when I felt bad and thought that everything was lost, I clung to a few good things that I had. What does not kill makes us stronger, and the world, even drowning in war and blood, is still too beautiful to give up, especially the little things that everyone forgets. That’s what my father taught me. My path has never been covered with rose petals. Well.., for most people, actually. Still, I didn’t stop fighting for the people I love. Only when the clan curse showed itself… I was really scared. I felt completely helpless. And after the recent events… Fuck all my experience, knowledge and even more ranks. I am useless. I… I must accept the truth. I will die soon Kiba and I do not want to die here.”

Her previously smooth and still voice started to crack. Her shoulders shivered slightly.

“You, Ino and your friends are wonderful people and in general I like Konoha, but it will never be my home, and you will never replace my family. I hate to break promises, but I really don’t want to keep the one I gave to sensei and friends. I just want to give up and go back to Kiri. I miss them so much and want to see them one last time. Besides there is also one thing that bothers me…”

Mei was not that wrong when she said that Tsubasa might fall in love in Konoha. She actually did, but not with the soulmate destined by the stars. She fell in love with an eccentric, slightly arrogant and silly boy who may have not really known her, but still tried to help. Simply because he did not lose faith in her or their team, because he acted friendly with her and could cheer her up even in her darkest moments. For the fact that he could knock on the window at one in the morning and invite her into the forest to look at the fireflies. Just like that. It wasn’t like love at first sight, or a long courtship. With each passing day her feelings grew stronger washing over her like waves. Unfortunately, there were few “BUTs” that Tsubasa could not ignore:

She was from another village and even though there were many bad things in the hidden Mist, she was not going to betray it or move anywhere. She promised herself to help Sensei make the village a better place, and she was not going to give up on her dream either. Kiba was also too loyal to his family and friends. He would never leave them for some Kirigakure girl.

Moreover, Tsubasa felt guilty about her soulmate. Yes, she never saw him, but that did not stop him from taking care of her and obviously dreaming about their meeting. It would be wrong just not to care about his feelings.

Most importantly, that applied to both Kiba and the unknown “true one” - she was dying. She was a weak sick girl who had a month left to live at best. Of course, she could confess her feelings to the boy next to her right now, feel loved and die with a drop of happiness… But was it fair for Kiba who would have to live with this burden until the end of his days? Definitely not. She couldn’t do that to him. That’s why she would rather stay silent, burn out from her feelings, because at least she would not let him suffer.

“I just don’t know what to do… I feel lost.”

She lifted her head, blue feathers of her earnings blowing in the wind. Her face was emotionless and her body calm, yet uncontrollable tears were streaming down her face.

The boy took her freezing hand and pulled her into a hug. Tsubasa bit her lip, burying her face in his shoulder and soaking his jacket with tears.

”You lost only because you gave up right away as soon as you found out about your diagnosis! Stop thinking about the fucking disease! Focus on something else! Not on the loved ones, since it causes you so much pain. Focus on your dreams! On your soulmate!”

“Why are you so obsessed with the idea of soulmates?”

“Why are you so disgusted with the idea itself?”

She let his hand go and exhaled. There was no trace of her emotional outburst except for her bloodshot eyes. Tsubasa grabbed the swing chains, thinking for a second.

“I do not believe in fairy tales about gods, who loved each other and were separated, that blessed all mortal couples with a secret connection, in revenge to the rest of the pantheon. Why did everyone suddenly start to think that it was a love connection? What if that bond means a strong friendship? And how can finding lost things help my soulmate find me or specifically, my body? The only variant I see is where you tattoo the coordinates on your hand and lose it in battle. An ‘excellent’ plan! Moreover, where are the guarantees that soulmate couples will be happy? Give me one example.”

”Ino’s parents are soulmates.”

Both of them suddenly turned silent.

”As far as I know, Mrs. Yamanaka did not even know our language when she arrived here. She was from another country, with completely different customs, still she risked going into the unknown. And I don’t know any stronger couple.”

“The way you talk about it… Your parents aren’t soulmates either, are they?”

He nodded.

”Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. In fact, my father left when I was one year old, so she and my sister raised me. But… My mother is a very difficult person. As far as I can remember, it was always important for her to be the first and she never cared about the feelings of others. This is good for a warrior, but not for a family member. She could easily say things that will hurt you, including the ones she said on purpose, as a joke in order to please her ego. When you tried to talk to her about this and ask her to tone it down a little, she pretended to listen at first, but soon forgot about it. As for my father, he was not from our clan, not even from our village. He was a stranger and ended up being at the very bottom of the clan’s hierarchy. My sister said that he could stand a lot of things, but not the betrayal and disregard towards him from his once loved one. Of course, this was not the only reason he left. After that, looking at how Ino’s parents perfectly understand each other and always try to find a compromise, on how strong their union is… I want the same kind of family. Yes, I can act like my mother, be short tempered and impulsive. I think you noticed it when we first met. I admit I behaved horribly, but with people close to me, whom I don’t want to lose, I try to control myself and work on it.”

“That’s… amazing Kiba. And despite the fact that you mostly act like a jerk -” he snorted and a small smile formed on her lips- “I have to admit that after knowing you better, I have respect for you. You don’t try to please everyone. You give all of yourself and your warmth only to the ones that are close to you. Only to those who, in your opinion, deserve it, disregarding the rest. This is right. I share the same point of view. But since you really want to find your soulmate, have you ever thought that you might end up being the one to leave your home? Are you ready for such a sacrifice yourself?”

Kiba fell silent. At first it seemed that he was deep in thought, but in reality, everything was different. He was frightened and listened to the silence of the night trying to find out if someone was eavesdropping on them. For a moment, the girl even thought that he used ninjutsu to sniff out strangers and make sure that there were no one near them.

As white as a sheet, he took her hand and ‘wrote’ his answer on the inside of her palm with a finger:

“Yes”

She glanced at him. His actions spoke louder than words.

“Your father is dead, isn’t he?”

”Were you born in a clan or joined it later, you cannot leave it.”

”I understand. After all, in Kiri, a lot is happening inside our clans too.”

They both sat in uncomfortable silence.

“When you said that my parents are not soulmates, you also said “either”. So..?”

“You heard right. You know that before Terumi-sama, Kirigakure was overflowing with nepotism and bribery? Well, people were willing to do anything to move up the career ladder. My mother really wanted a higher position in ANBU, so she made my father fall in love with her and convinced him that she was his soulmate. As you understand, it was also important for my father to find ‘the true one’ but when he realized that he was fooled it was already too late. He comforted himself with the fact that he seemed to love my mother even without that spiritual bond, plus he loved me with all his heart and soul. But in fact, the love between my parents was one-sided… and because of the special treatment to the Yuki clan, my father was never at home. So… when you start looking for your destined one, please be careful, okay? I do not want the same fate for you or for anyone else.”

Okay, let’s change the topic” - he waved his hands in a playful defensive gesture “You mentioned that you have a dream. So, what kind of dream?”

“Well, you chose a bad one to distract me, because my dream is deeply connected with my family. You know about the genocide of the Yuki clan?”

“Mmm, sorry, to be honest, not really. Only that when the Uchiha clan was massacred, the elders whispered with each other that it could be the same case as it was with your clan, where it was the Kage’s order or some sort.”

“The Yuki clan was once considered to be one of the most powerful clans in the village of the Hidden Mist. And of course, quite dangerous, especially for the past Mizukage, or rather, for the one who controlled him. So, one night, the entire main branch was killed and the clan’s library burned down. The Yuki clan was officially made part of a lower caste. Some clan members managed to escape, while others were often sent on dangerous and suicidal missions. Now from the once large clan, only 30-40 people remain in Kiri, and most of them are elders and children. For comparison, grandfather Naoki had four children, the same age as my father, and only one daughter remained alive. As you know, my frightened and repressed clan avoided communicating with each other. In fact, in my childhood, it was as if the clan did not exist at all. Childhood in Kiri was not easy, but the other children at least had a clan, a large family that stood up for them. I wanted it too. I wanted to be a part of a clan and before my illness I dreamed of reviving the Yuki clan, regaining lost knowledge and finding all the relatives lost around the world, whom, as far as I heard, were not liked by both ninjas and civilians. But now after that illness… I must find every single Yuki alive to make sure that no one will be alone while fighting the family curse and that no one will go through the same pain as me, giving them a chance to be cured. And I will do it, no matter what… If I survive, of course…”

“It’s … A great dream to achieve-,” he scratched his head not knowing what to say- “And I am sure you will! Just don’t be so pessimistic! “

”I am realistic.”

“Pessimistic.”

“Realistic!”

“OK, OK!” he chuckled.“Looks like only realists like you, who talk about how bad and terrible everything will be, turn out to be chuunins.”

“What? Kiba, I don’t… urgh forget it! Arguing with you on any topic is simply useless when you are stubborn as a mule.”

“Said another mule!”

She laughed. Warmly and sincerely, for the first time this evening, and perhaps since they returned from that ill-fated mission.

”By the way, if your life in the hidden mist was so bad why do you hate the idea of moving to another place? Like here, to Konoha?”

“First of all, my life in Kiri is perfect now. Secondly, when people will learn that I am from the hidden mist they will hate me. The only thing that saves me now is that commoners think I am a distant relative of Ino.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You never heard why Kiri women are hated so much?”

“No.”

“Well let me tell you,” she grinned sinisterly. “One year, in our village, due to hunger, disease and war, there were practically no men left. Then the women decided to fill this gap by stealing men from other villages. But then they questioned themselves, how to transport healthy and adult shinobi without harming them? This is how the world-famous art of Kirigakure ANBU was born, thanks to which we can immobilize even the most powerful warrior,” she chuckled as a senbon she used in some missions appeared from nowhere, - “With the combination of many factors, but still. Well, those poor souls who ended up in Kiri … they essentially had no choice, but to marry ladies there if they wanted to live.”

“Are you joking?!”

“I’m not! In fact, my great-grandfather was kidnapped from the village hidden in the Stone. So, be careful Inuzuka Kiba! Who knows, maybe my illness is just a part of a secret mission and I’m actually here to pick up suitable candidates… And you might end up being one of them! You may turn out to be a good third husband for me, you know?”

He laughed.

“Oh really? Well, I would die to see how you would try to steal me with such an amazing guard as Akamaru!”

“Oh darling,” she grinned and hugged the huge white dog,” I would find a way to make that adorable boy my partner in crime! “

Akamaru happily barked in agreement and both teenagers burst into laughter, almost falling off the swing.

“By the way,” she said after a small pause, “I have to admit that fireflies are much more beautiful in Konoha. Thank you for letting me enjoy such beauty…”

He bit his lip and took her hand in his. The Ice crystals were still showing from her bandage returned them both to the dreadful reality.

“You will survive Tsu, I promise you, and you will see many more fireflies. Not only these.”

She looked at him with a faded, crooked smile. A smile that only gravely ill and very tired people have. Kiba returned her a look and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest, skipping a beat.

“Don’t make a promise that you can’t keep.”

”I’ll keep it! You will see. We are close to finding the ancient temple of the Yuki clan, and there definitely should be information on how to cure you. And after the next mission is completed, we will go to a grill bar! In the land of water there are only sea creatures and practically no normal beef. I cannot let you go back to Kiri without letting you know all the delights of good meat.”

She chuckled.

“If you say so.”

But there would be no grill bar or any next time. They found information about the temple location, but at the cost of everything else. The disease turned out to be unstoppable at this point. Luckily, they managed to reach it in time and save Tsubasa’s life.

Three months had passed since her miraculous recovery. Representatives of the Mist village appeared in Konoha the next day and took the girl with them, not allowing her even to say goodbye to her new friends. Still, their paths will cross in the future.

Upon returning to Kiri, Tsubasa began to communicate a lot with Ino through letters, which made the Mizukage almost ecstatic. She hoped that friendship with the clan princess would turn into a possible strong political tie in the future. One way or another, Mei was going to make her children, if not a future Mizukage, then those on whom the village could rely. Sometimes Mei was so happy about the benefits that Tsubasa had a feeling that her illness and departure to Konoha were part of Sensei’s plan to improve relationships with the village from the very beginning. However, she thought it was too weird and silly to be true.

She also sent letters to Kiba. Feelings for him that suddenly flared up in her heart were not planning to disappear, but she still had no intention of getting into his personal life. He wanted to find his soulmate, and she respected that wish. This was the least she could do for him. “Besides,” she thought while drinking peach tea in the evenings and remembering how he was trying to warm her drastically freezing body on their trip to the temple, “it is unlikely that we would have succeeded even if there would be no soulmate. We are too loyal and attached to our villages and clans. None of us would move to another village for the sake of other. Only a soulmate had such privilege.“

Therefore, she was happy to be his friend at least, send the boxes of tangerines and dried seafood snacks on special occasions, help with advice on everyday problems that all teenagers went through, regardless of which shinobi village they were born in, and just talk about all sorts of nonsense.

At six am, there was a loud knock on the door. Tsubasa was just getting ready for the training and she had no idea who would need to see her at such an early hour (her teammates were waiting for her at the training field, so it could not be them).

A familiar figure was standing outside of the door. Tired from the road, a little nervous, but smiling. Holding a medium-sized flat box under his arm.

“Kiba? What are you doing here, especially this early?!”

“There were reasons,” he said giving her a box, “may i come in?”

“Of course, you can, I’ll make you some tea and something to eat for you two.”

The girl moved away to the side, letting the boy and his dog into the apartment. Akamaru immediately stretched and laid himself on the carpet of the living room, while Kiba took a seat in the kitchen.

“So, what’s the reason you came here?”

“Open the box,” he said with a smile.

Tsubasa raised her eyebrows skeptically. She put the box on the table, thin fingers gripping the blue lid and pulling it up. Her father’s mask with its cold material was staring right into the girl from the inside. Frozen in complete shock, looking at the once-lost thing dear to her heart, she did not notice how Kiba approached her from behind.

“I just felt lost,” he said in a soft voice, while tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Their faces were only a few inches apart, “And desperately wanted to be found.”

#Kiba Inuzuka #kiba #naruto oc #kiba inuzuka x oc #konoha simps server collab #server collab #konoha simps #kiba inuzuka #soulmate #kiba x oc #naruto #naruto drabble #drabble #soulmate au

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tieukhannh · 3 years

Text

In flesh and blood.

Small scenario in which after the Spade Invasion ends, Patri rips William’s heart out and eats it.

Warning: character death, blood, cannibalism

AO3 link for better reading experience. Kudos and comments are really appreciated ^^

*******

The scar isn’t William's curse. He is.

They were born as a whole. They shall end as a whole.

*******

I wouldn’t mind if you are my cause of death.

The final devil shatters into pieces, his agonic scream drowned by exciting cheers. The Spade citizens burst into tears and the Clover Knights collapse, too tired to keep themselves up, but blood and sweat cannot hide the brilliance on their faces. After two days of nonstop battling, they won. The Dark Triad is defeated. The Qliphoth ritual is stopped. Yami and William are saved. The devils are gone. Now they can peacefully wait for the first streak of dawn.

What to do next is politics. The Resistance gives Yuno a subtle yet meaningful look and William realizes their intent. Earlier he managed to buy some time, but now because the devils are no longer a threat, they’re stuck in a complicated situation.

“Let him rest first.” William affirms, “Give him three days. You guys need some rest too. Then come to Clover and we shall discuss this.”

Albert nods and signals his comrades to stay back. Though he wants Yuno to return to Spade as soon as possible, he can see their prince listens to this man called William. They have abandoned him in a foreign land for so long. If in the end Yuno chooses to stay in Clover, they don’t have a say in it.

“Captain Vangeance…”

“Don’t frown, Yuno. It makes you look older.” William gives Yuno a reassuring smile, “Instead of going back to the Capital, how about staying with your family for these three days? You want to hear their thought too, don’t you?”

Indeed Yuno does. He wants to meet Father Orsi and Sister Lily. Maybe they will shine a light on him like how they always did.

“But Captain, what about the-“

“Hey hey hey, I’m right here. Don’t forget I’m the real Vice-Captain.”

“Vice-Captain Langris.”

Langris huffs. ‘Vice-Captain’ - three days ago Yuno called him like this too. He says it so naturally like he doesn’t take his 6 months in said position serious. It reminds Langris of the day Yuno claimed to have his eyes only on the Captain seat back in Kiten, but now isn’t the time to be petty. Yuno did keep the promise to take care of his Golden Dawn. Their Golden Dawn.

Behind them, William tries to cover his smile. He in fact plans to put Langris in charge again. As the heir of House Vaude and with more years of experience, Langris knows how to deal with politics. One more person he needs to worry about is…

Yuno follows his Captain’s eyes and sees Mimosa standing with the Heart. He knows their relationship has gone a little awkward after what happened to Captain Vermillion and what they did to her while they were possessed. Mimosa is a nice soul, she forgave them with ease but Yuno can tell she often fidgets when William is in sight. Then before she could request to come to Heart, William already proposed her to the higher-ups. Maybe back then a break is what they needed. It’s easy to tell being with Asta and Noelle makes Mimosa happy.

“Langris, Yuno, I’m eternally grateful to you. All of you.” William says tenderly, “You guys are my pride and my dream.”

For a moment his words sound too much like a ‘goodbye’. Langris tries to break the silence with his usual cockiness. “What’s that, Captain? I didn’t know you could be this sentimental.”

Before William can reply, a man cut in line.

“William, come to Elysia with me.”

They turn around and see the leader of the elves - an ally of Heart yet the terrorist to Clover Kingdom.

“Patri, you know I’d say no.”

Replies William. With Yuno may be the heir of House Grinberryall, now not only he’s a Clover’s Captain, but he’s also the superior of the Prince of Spade.

Patri sighs and smiles softly like he’d expected the answer. He walks closer until their foreheads touch and looks at William in the eyes. William flinches but doesn’t back off. A mesmerizing shade of lavender stares back at him and in there Patri can see his own reflection. In a blink of an eye, he forgets what’s he about to do and wishes that William will only have his eyes on him like this, but he already makes up his mind. Patri lays a hand on William’s chest - a steady rhythm of life echoing in his ears - and presses himself closer. He wants to memorize this sound, this smell, this image, this very moment…

“Goodbye, William.”

William’s eyes dilate. Trees coil around Patri, the branches dyed in red. An arm pierces through William’s chest. Silence descends. Mimosa almost faints.

“Wha- What?” Yuno is the first one wakes from his stupor. Spirit of Boreas manifests. “WHY?!”

Why? Patri wonders. William’s weight pressures on his body. His mind is occupied by the heat dripping through his fingers. It’s such a miracle how a small organ can contain so much love and kindness, sending warmth to every piece of him for twenty-six years long. The pulses are still thumping and Patri can faintly hear its beat. What a melody…

Why? Patri’s arm is soaked in scarlet. It reminds him about the last day of his previous lifetime when the only thing he saw is the same vivid and stinging color. He glances at where the devils just disappeared. So turns out William is a key to set them free. His death shall guarantee the devils are trapped in hell for good and no more tragedy will happen again.

Why? Patri looks at everyone present on the battlefields: the Black Bulls, the Clover royals, the Captains… then fixates at Yuno and Langris. So many people are here for the Dark Magic user while William… Well William has it coming, doesn’t he? Nurturing a terrorist, betraying his comrades, turning a blind eye on the innocent lives he swore to protect. But at the very beginning, he was also an innocent child - the unlucky child bound with a vengeful twin. Then despite it all, despite wounded and terribly exhausted, he fought bravely as a magic knight, wearing the cloak of the Golden Dawn, standing tall for his pride and his dream.

Why? Patri feels William’s shifting in his hold. This man isn’t just a special human. Their bond is a connection that he shares with none of his kin. William was closer to his heart than anyone else. He is a unique existence, his one and only. Patri doesn’t want William to get hurt in any way. Rationally, it’s paying for his debt. Irrationally, it’s the unconditional fidelity for his soul twin.

But this is never about “them”. Patri can sense Rhya fidgeting and is ready to open a portal to take them back at any moment. Back is such an endearing word. The tribe that supposed to be extinct five hundred years ago suddenly has a second chance. Yet right now they are so small, too weak in comparison to any forces on this continent let alone the devils. If William gets hurt, Patri knows he will participate no matter the what; and if he’s on the battlefield, Rhya, Vetto and Fana will choose to join.

His tribe will once again be on the line. This is exactly what Patri cannot stand.

He makes a quiet chuckle. He and William are really similar. Coincidentally, or maybe it’s not a coincidence at all, they have the same pride and the same dream. They long for an alike goal: safety for their people.

“They” doesn’t matter, “their people” does.

He cannot let the gate of hell open again.

He cannot let William live here - a place where almost no one has his back.

He cannot let William be in danger again. For William. For himself. For his people.

From the day William let him do whatever he wanted to their body, Patri already knew that one day he shall become William’s cause of death. Fate has already been sealed when they were born into different kinds.

If their bond is a burden, then let death be the salvation.

Ten years ago, he woke up from five hundred years of slumber and ripped William’s dream away. Now, he only does it again, and this time, for good. Patri only felt an empty void as his finger dipped into William’s flesh and spears through his body. What’s the point of feeling guilty anyway? No one has the right to judge him. He only gets rid of a part of himself. For sure, William will forgive him. William always forgives him.

“William Vangeance.” Patri mutters, “I curse you.”

From the hole in William’s chest appears a magic circle - ancient magic that amplified by his demon light - a curse that cannot be broken by anti-magic or normal mana. A guarantee to make sure no one can disturb William in his sleep.

Loath me, William. Do not forgive me.

Remember me.

William lifts his face up. Blood trickles down his lips as they quirk into a smile. Behind Patri, the sun starts to rise. The first streak of dawn crystalized in William’s eyes and in there Patri sees nothing but a wholehearted devotion. William straightens himself and whispers in Patri’s ears. Three words, barely audible like meaningless puffs, yet Patri understands. Between them, words are redundant. The light in William’s eyes sparks one last time before its brilliance fades away. Patri‘s reflection freezes along with the flow of time. William slumps into his embrace. Their chest presses close and the final sound William hears is a small thump of Patri’s heartbeat.

Patri pulls his hand out. At the same time, color recedes from his world. Suddenly everything is cloaked under a grayish hue. His mind boils up and cools down continuously and instantly until what’s left is an endless abyss. The trees hold him in place. The first answer Patri comes up with is: “Because he’s my weakness. I cannot afford my weakness in your hand.”

The only human he cannot kill is gone. No more human can become his obstacle.

Yuno lost it and charges forward, aiming for the kill. Before his attack can hit Patri, the trees around him start to wilt. They curl in on themselves and slip from his body, slowly dissolving into light. Along with that, Patri’s wounds after the fight with the devils are healed.

Yuno’s weapon shatters. He kneels down, in shock, knowing that he can no longer attack this elf. He cannot hurt the person his Captain wants to protect at all cost.

Patri stands in a midst of light. He raises William’s heart and takes a bite. Flesh and blood pass down his throat, overwhelming his sense with the foul smell of iron. These things have the same color as wine; and just like wine, after he gets used to the taste, he experiences a heady pleasure of intoxication. When Patri takes the final mouthful, a chill sends down his spine. It feels like the snowy day when it all began - another heartbeat is throbbing deep within his chest.

The scar isn’t William's curse. He is.

They were born as a whole. They shall end as a whole.

Wait for me at the end of the line.

William’s final spell disintegrates along with his grimoire. Only in death one can truly be free.

This scenario has stuck in my head for months and I just have to write it down >.<

This is part 2 of a Patri-William fic (neither platonic or romantic). It'd be great if you can give it a chance. Thank you so much ♡

#black clover #william vangeance #patri #patolli #patri & william #patri x william #khanh writing stuff #blood #cannibalism #character death

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

Text

Eight Tries //Obey Me Yandere! Asmodeus x reader //

Thank you so so much for this wonderful prompt @feedmestraycats. Icon made by the lovly @bbelphie!

TW: attempted suicide, mention of rape/noncon, gore, murder, cheating

This was getting old, he still wasn't home and there was no point in pretending that he was just running late. No, you knew that your husband was not coming back home tonight, maybe if you were lucky you would find him passed out on the couch sometime in the late afternoon once you returned from the marketplace.

There was no reason to spend the dreary and dull night alone. If that spoiled hero you called a husband could be spending such a gorgeous night, out with some prostitute from the slums then you could also be having some naughty fun~

--To call your current like a nightmare was an understatement. People awake from nightmares, they could open their eyes and be back in the safety of their warm beds, next to the person they loved. But the second your eyes opened you entered a hell on earth, there wasn't any escape, no freedom...and the worst part was that there was not a single soul to comfort you--

Five red candles set in a circle each one a blase with a tiny passionate flame. Two twigs inserted parallel to one another, caging in the dried corpse of a scorpion. Next is the demon's sacred seal written in the summoner's blood, elegantly and delicately. Sprinkle it with salt and state the ungodly words. "Oh, great Asmodeus lord of love, aviator of lust, I become thee come forth to me, I offer you my body and soul"

--You had been born to a noble family in a small and rather poor town. Despite the town economical standpoint, the natives were tremendously kind and neighborly. Everyone shared whatever little of anything they may have had. Your family, in particular, was the most charitable. Giving and giving as much as humanly possible. When it came time for you to chose a husband, your father requested you marry someone from the town, someone you truly loved disregarding how poor or wealthy they may be. Marry for love he insisted but keep it in the family. Regardless to say that's what you did. You found a man and fell in love, married a month later in a joyous celebration in which the whole town had been invited to....but then HE came along--

The circle in front of you puffed with a cloud of thick pink smoke. It invaded your sense, plunging into your mind and sending waves of ecstasy. It was a rush pure lust was infected into your entire body...

but then it stopped, neglecting your corpse and leaving you you confused and sweaty. It was in that eerie moment that the demon decided to manifest himself. He stood tall in all his glory, petite bat wings spread out. If it weren't for the dark shadow and uncharacteristic bitter frown spread thinly across his face, he would have looked as beautiful and perfect as the first miserable night you played eyes on him.

--In the dead of night Asmodeus had murdered your husband in clod blood. He had made you watch as he shredded your lover's corps leaving only a messy pile of blood and organs on the bed. But that had not been enough for the lord of lust. On that same blood-soaked bed he had defiled you, raped you and stolen what was meant for the man who's blood you now laid in, a weeping mess reeking of that demon's stench. Your parents had found you the following day. They were sent into an accentuated frenzy. How could such a horrifying thing happen? By the following year, you'd been wed again, only for Asmodeus to return on the night of your marriage and decimate your new husband. By the fourth accurations, the townsfolk had deemed you cursed, at first they tried all that they could to save you from this dreadful beast. But all too soon it had turned into a competition. "Who could marry the nobleman's daughter and survive the next day." Desperate to wed you off your parents accepted any challenger who arrived....and each was dead by the morning of your marriage. By the sixth time, the townsfolk had already tried to kill you on multiple occasions. The sweet and caring town you knew had been annihilated replaced by this bitter, angry village of unkind and untrusting residents. And Asmodeus? Well, he'd made a game out of this, each time he'd find a new grisly way to slaughter your new husband and a new repugnant way to rape you. By the seventh husband, you'd already attempted four suicides. All resulting in fallierur, by some black miracle that dreadful demon was always able to save you and keep you alive. All hope was lost or so it seemed.--

"He's out again..." Was there any need to explain why you'd summons him. Over the last two years since your wedding to the "hero", these summonings had been almost routine.

"Of course he is darling~ did you really think you were enough to satisfy him? hm?"

The words stabbed your heart like a million needles at once, the reality was all too fragile and could come crumbling down at any given time. You had never been enough, this was a well-known fact at this point. You had never been enough for your lovers, parents or town's people and now you weren't even enough for your own husband, the man that had saved you from all your miseries.

"Love, he's a hero. Hero's don't settle down and live domestic lives with their loved ones and children. They need the torture of missions and anguish of journeys to feel alive. When they leave it all behind they wind up as hollow husks filling out the rest of their existence with alcohol and street women."

--After having prayed to God for too many days and nights to count, he's finally sent you a hero. Tobias was sent to vanquish the demon Asmodeus and merry you as a reward. At the time you'd all thought he had succeeded, that the avatar of lust was really dead. The thought had brought you joyous days and depressing nights. A part of you was beyond thankful that he was finally gone. The other half missed and longed for his lips on yours, for his hands brushing against your skin, the feel of his honey-colored lock tangled in between your fingers. You missed your tormentor...

At first, you and Tobias had been like any young couple so in love to notice the conflict of the world around you, so in love to disregard each other's sharp edges. So in love, until you were no longer. The first year had been sweet and peacful, every day was a harmonious dream...but then Tobias started coming home late, neglecting your presence. Some nights he wouldn't return at all and you'd run into town finding him in some pub drunk and with some random woman clinging to him. You spent those nights crying yourself into fitful revolting dreams of happiness and death. The old pre-suicidal habits had returned. One night the blade slipped and slashed a vain to deep, mentally exhausted you simply laid there waiting for the blood to run out. That's when you saw him again. Over the years he hadn't changed one bit, flirty smile and reddish-yellow eyes still playful and dark. He'd brought you back again and stayed with you until morning. The occurrence repeated it's self like clockwork until one night it was no longer dying and talking but summoning and...more. It felt right to feel him all over you again. His toxic presence made you feel complete, filling up holes in your soul.--

Asmodeus stalked closer, arms slinging in that all too causal way. You didn't dare take a step back, having played this game enough times to know every result before it even sprouted.

"(Y/N) why won't you listen to me! How dense do you have to be to repeat the same mistake eight times! Eight freaking times before it dawns on you that you are wrong! You will always be wrong! No worthless human or "holy hero" can ever love you as I do. I'm the only one. I'll always be the only one!"

Your brain screamed that he was wrong, that you could have had a prouspoures, dazzling life had he not killed your first husband or second or even third. Ir was his fault that your beloved town had been plagued with riots and corruption. He taught your people to sin, to ignore the words of God and his angels! Yet your cracked heart knew that he was right, no man would ever love you again... hey all married you for some selfish obligation or another. And Tobias....Tobias was the worst of all. He was forced to marry you by the holy on. Thrust into a loveless marriage with the suicidal "beauty" he was forced to save. Why couldn't God have just killed you all those years ago? Given the poor "Miss wanna die" her sole wish. He was right, this MONSTER was had always been right! No one loved you. You were less than the rubble under people's feet. Even noble god had turned his back on you...but he, this evil demon...Asmodeus had always come back for you. Hw stole your innocence, your purity, your life! your destiny was forever ruled by him. Maybe that's what you were so constantly in pain and isolation. You were trying to outrun your furutre. Why? What was the point of escaping your inevitable faith? Let it go, submit, your miserable life would finally become less of a burden. Give up, hand over the crumpled misery you called life to Asmodeus, let him take over. It would all finally be over. No more pain, loneliness, the misery would come to a sweet end!

In a daring, insanity driven moment you lunged yourself forward gripping Asmodeus' toned shoulders with all your strenghth. Fingernails digging deeper and deeper into his creamy skin. Crashing your lips onto his, trying to let the kiss speak for you. Begging he would comprehend your actions, praying he would accept your submission. In no time he took over, dominating the kiss, slipping his wet muscle into your mouth. Running his larger hands to your lower back. Dipping lower and lower, squeezing anything he could get his hand on. He was the one to (shockinly) break the kiss. He slowly pulled away leaving behind a thin string of saliva. His lush lips were pulled into a smug smirk, his eyes were lightening up with the most joy you'd ever seen. Forcefully he pulled you closer to his chest. Holding your head where his heart would have been.

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whitherliliesbloom · 4 years

Text

yet with each descent do we rise again

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #26 - when pigs fly ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,548 words ] ★ [ fairy au ]

illya skawi & alphinaud leveilleur. in an au where il mheg is home to a nation of fae folk, all of whom are ruled by titania illya. mentions @ancientechos‘ laurelis, @firstblesssed‘s elletha and @windupnamazu‘s lunya. contains the origins / lore of porxies in this au. i also reveal illya’s fae name for the first time in this fic but who really cares-

if porxies were the manifestation of the impossible being made possible, why did the sight of them bring titania so much grief?

He’s seen no skies clearer than one that hung over Il Mheg, a testament to the majesty that was the fae folk and their magics, no doubt. Despite being told again and again by no few fairies and pixies alike that their kingdom was not how it used to be - her luster tarnished by the leeches that were the mortal race and the marks they’d left upon the land’s beauty - he, in all his ignorant mortal bliss, still believed the kingdom of rainbows to easily be the most beautiful place he’s had the fortune to set foot upon.

And as he greets the stunning soft gradients of blues and cotton candy white that was the sunny morning sky, looking up and being momentarily blinded by the scorching, yet welcoming sun above, he hears a flutter and a twinkle behind him, the back of his neck tickled by a light gust that urges him to spin around as quickly as his artificial rhotano blue wings would allow him.

“'Q-Quel amrun, Alphinaud!” A voice of exceeding melody, one that rose in the air and echoed in his ears like the gentle rustle of leaves upon the wind greeted him in a language he had not yet mastered, and he finds color rising up his cheeks as he takes far too many seconds to find the words to respond.

“A-and good morning to you, your majesty.”

Evidently pleased at his understanding her verbal fae tongue, the queen smiles wider than he’s accustomed to, and the radiance she exudes as if she were a beam of pure, unfiltered light almost sends him reeling.

“’Tis good to see fae blood still courses through your veins.”

Alphinaud bites back a chuckle, and he resists the urge to speak as he bows, watching beneath a curtain of thin lashes as the queen turns her head to breath in the scent of morning dew before directing her tender gaze towards the young man.

His gift - and by extension his duty was still something of an awkward point of conversation between him and the ruler of Il Mheg, despite knowing full well that this arrangement, as gloomy as it made him to remember, was only temporary. Once he finds the cure and the source of the curse, and fulfills his responsibilities as far as it pleased Titania, he will surely be made to leave. Il Mheg was no place for mortals, not after what they’ve done to the fae.

And he was still very much mortal, despite the ring of silver and golden flower embellishments he wore upon his finger, and the gossamer wings that sprouted from his back.

“What’s on your schedule today? Helping Beq Thon with those awful weeds again?” The queen asks, swinging her dainty little legs as she hovered just several feet above marble. Her crystalline wings flutter gently with uncanny grace like petals, and from their tips fell sparkling dusts like thistledown that swirled and were carried away with the chilly lake breeze. The flap of his wings by comparison were harsh and clumsy, and he’d very understandably been called a disgrace to all fairies by all who saw his poor attempts at flying as they do.

Thankfully not, he almost answers, but his conscious is immediately assaulted by a pang of guilt as he remembers the grace in which Illya had granted him stay within her kingdom, and the boundless amounts of kindness that not only she, but the other residents of the fae nation has shown him thus far. Instead he manages something of a forced smile before shaking his head. “I came to see if you needed any sort of assistance, your majesty.”

“Me?” The young fae widens her eyes, hand rising up to rest upon her chest. The limpid silken scarf that hung from her hands ripple upon the wind with her movements. “Oh.. No, no.. There’s nothing I need help with.”

“Is that so? Have you some sort of business outside the castle, then? If you do then, surely, there’s some way I can help you.”

A dust of pink spreads across her pallid cheeks and up to the tips of her pointed ears, but she is quick to hide her blush beneath the light shadows of her pure white bangs

“I-I was... just here to feed the porxies.”

“Porxies?”

As if summoned by the call of their name, a passel of squeaky porxies burst through the bushes, their sizeable ears flapping as they gathered around the queen and oinked in delight. Alphinaud is taken aback for but a moment, mouth agape as he watches Titania toss her pearlescent cane into the air. It sparkles for a moment before it morphs into a hefty palm-sized satchel that lands safely in the queen’s palms.

“Here you go. There’s enough for everyone, so don’t be greedy!”

Illya beckons to the porxies with a wave as she opens the sack, and the pungent smell of grime, rotten fruits and crushed flower paste sends him gasping and grimacing, to which the queen could only flash an apologetic wry smile for.

“Ah.. I’m sorry for the smell.. Their diet is rather um.. peculiar. ”

“N..No! Pray.. forgive me my response.. I was just.... surprised..” Alphinaud pauses, watching as the porxies feasted happily upon their breakfast completely unaware of the stench. “I never would have thought their appetite would be whetted by such... waste.”

With large chomps and nibbles, the porxies begin to disperse in number as they eat their fill from the queen’s gentle palms, the grime of their feed leaving a dirty black stain upon her otherwise supple, clean hands.

“They say one man’s waste is another’s treasure...” Illya murmurs as the second to last porxie in line flutters away, leaving the last of the pack to eat off the scraps of the scraps slowly, but gratefully. “W-well.. porxies, in this case.. But they help with cleaning up the trash by eating them.”

Despite the familiar euphony of her words, and the kindly gaze she held towards the lone porxie, he sensed a touch of melancholy, of a sadness that he knew she would hate for him to notice. It certainly must not have been the queen’s intentions - he knew it wouldn’t have been given her tendency for hiding any emotions that she deemed to be unqueenly of her. And if the accounts of her friends and advisor were to be trusted, it’s that Titania of all people bottled up a mountains worth of burden and sorrow inside herself - one she refused to show to anyone.

Alphinaud is silent as he watches her, glowing and mesmerizing in her beauty as she gently strokes the top of the porxies head as it squeals gleefully at her. He can swear the sun’s rays grow twice more incandescent as they shone through her shimmering, glassy wings in pink and purple hues like stained glass, only second to the warm, glittering hues of her eyes that reminded him of a field of lavender and violets.

She was ever like a beacon of effervescent light - not just to him, but to Il Mheg and her people. And yet she would not allow herself even the luxury of grieving, of showing her sadness to the world for fear of going against her duties. The divine royal sparkles that shone in her eyes were now clouded by the rain, of the hidden words she’s stopped herself from saying for who knows how long now.

And it pained him, enough to drive him to insolence, and he wouldn’t bemoan her if she thought to have him banished on the spot for it.

“What has you feeling so downcast, your majesty?”

His question sends panic rippling down her spine, and for a moment the queen gasps as she turns her head up to stare wide eyed at him. She thinks to shake her head furiously before flying away.. but caught in the headlights of his concerned, and frustratingly sincere gaze she gulps, and finally allows herself to frown.

It takes a lengthy silence, one accompanied by chirping and the distant chatters of the pixies, to be true.. but his attention is focused squarely on the lady, who places her palms on either sides of the porxies cheeks and narrows her eyes with a heart wrenching, upsetting look of defeat. And when she finally speaks, her voice no longer held the tone of a celebratory songbird, but like little windchimes, barely louder than a whisper as it rang amidst the drizzle.

“Do you happen to know where porxies came from, Alphinaud?”

The question causes his head to tilt curiously, and he answers with an honest ignorance.

“Are they.. not simply another type of fae?”

“Well... yes and no. They’re um... like you.” Illya strokes the porxies skin lovingly, as if in apology for speaking of it. But its beady eyes remain bright and naive as it looks up at its queen as if she meant the entire world to it. “They’re not fae born.. They were made into fae by a Titania.”

The queen closes her eyes, heaving a sigh through barely parted rosy lips.

“There was once a saying.. A figure of speech that I believe is of mortal origin.. but it was spoken by fae folk once too. ‘Iire beag roi’.. Referring to the concept of impossibilities.” Slowly Titania leans her head forward to nudge the porxies snout with her forehead, a sorrowful sign of affection before it sounds out a snort of delight and flutters away.

“Titania had a son - Ose Iala was his birth name.. But he always preferred the names of mortals far more than one of his fae. And he kept that fascination of mortals and the outside world even as he grew older, old enough to voice out his disdain for our rules against executing mortals who stepped inside Il Mheg soil.

‘The day mortals and fae will ever coexist is the day pigs will fly’, Titania did say with a mocking glare towards Ose Iala.. and the prince, in his fury towards his father’s stubborn intolerance, casted a spell upon a herd of pigs that wandered into Il Mheg from a farm in Lakeland.”

Alphinaud’s heart sinks into his stomach as he listens, expression awash with pity as he looks upon Titania tilting her head up to the sky, galaxy worn eyes tired and wary. And though he needn’t hear the rest of her words to know what.. or who exactly she was referring to, he allows her to pour what little bits of her caged heart she had the courage to share.

“My father.. He made the impossible possible, preached that there was no such thing as impossibilities to his people and told me the same when I was but a sprout who barely just learned to fly. And he made the impossibility of fae folk existing with mortals a beautiful, wonderful reality.”

Il Mheg has changed more within the past 3 generations than it did with the countless millenniums before then, for better or for worse.. The name of the Titania who brought about this tide of change was scorned by most of the fae kingdom and forgotten by the mortals who had seen Il Mheg as nothing but pools of gil and resources they could steal from.

But that was a cruelty and a despair that has wrongfully be thrust upon the Titania of the present - of the one who bears the heaviest burden of them all. For beneath the opulence of her glamorous, glittering dresses and the pristine gemstones upon her flowery tiara, she was but a young girl - a fae equivalent to a mortal of teenage age, who has lost family and freedom both. And above all else, the lonely little fairy was now shackled with duty, of her obligations to undo the mistakes Ose Iala had done to blemish their kingdom.

“And yet... despite the miracle I’ve been granted, I’m worthless as queen. I cannot save my people.” Her hands clench into fists, and blood drains from her knuckles and threatens to pour out of the cuts her nails leave as imprints upon her palms. “Forget Feo Sul, I...I’m not worthy of bearing the mortal name Illya either.”

Alphinaud mutters her name beneath his breath, and the sweetness that is left on the tip of his tongue as he does causes his heart to skip a beat. Feo Sul. The flower of treasures. Despite what Titania might say, the young scholar knows better than any other that her name fits perfectly better than any other fae or mortal he might ever meet.

“But you have saved your people. The fae are able to find hope to renew Il Mheg because of you.” With a furrowed brow, Alphinaud hovers forward, daring himself to lift his hand and rest over clenched fists.

“Elletha tells me of how much you work to keep the infirmary running, casting your magics so hard that the palms of your hands would start burning and she’d have to stop you. I’ve heard from so many pixies that the fairy that appears at night, Lunya... she was once a mortal that you saved from death despite her being a plunderer.” His words at once cause her eyes to water, but also soothes the tension in her hands, and she finds her fingers relaxing against his reassuring grasp.

“And Laurelis.. Whenever I speak to her, she wouldn’t stop talking about you! About how you sacrificed some of your own royal blood to feed the soil of Timh Gyeus on the first day after your coronation so that flowers would bloom again.. Or how you dove head first into the longmirror lake to rid the waters of the litter and oil.”

“A-Alphinaud.. P-please-”

“Or how you caught frost on your wings as you dug through the snowy mountains for a week looking for tsasan setgel.. Or the way you ripped the cursed thorns the Fuath had grown around the pillars of Lyhe Ghiah as a prank with your own bare hands because you could not bear the thought of having anyone else do so! ”

His hand tightens its hold, fingers laced and intertwined with the gaps of her own as he moves closer and raises his voice. So that she will hear him, so that she will listen, and face the reality of her own kind deeds even if she’d refused to thus far.

“You’re the miracle Il Mheg needed. The fact that you yet stand, strong and tall as you are despite everything you’ve been through, that is a miracle above all others.”

The tears that trickle down her cheeks and falls off her chin glisten as little gems, reflecting off the rays of the morning sun with a rainbow hue that he feels tempted to catch with his fingers, were they not occupied with holding hers. And the tiny panic he feels in his beating heart dissipates as when she sniffs, and forces a glowing smile upon her face.

“ Iire beag roi.. How silly a notion, I’m nothing of the sort.”

And Alphinaud smiles back, eyes narrowing as he feels her fingers wrap around his in return.

“ gu dearbh. Pigs already fly, remember?”

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #alphinaud leveilleur #illya skawi #alphinaud #we've come so far #fanfic #mine #fairy au #fairy queen au #kiwisffxivwrite2020 #wow who still remembers this au #of course! nobody!

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knightofameris · 4 years

Text

not like this — tony stark (stark!reader) [p. 1]

Setting: Infinity War Gender: Neutral Contains: Infinity War deathhh, ANGST. I tried keeping it genderneutral as well! Word Count: 2.3k (oops)

a/n: First post on this blog even though I’m a long time writer from deviantArt and from @knightofnarnia sorry I’m always dead so don’t expect too much. Anything put under the cut is to avoid spoilers.

If there are any mistakes, regarding the gender of reader, grammar, spelling, or with the story, LET ME KNOW! c:

Enjoy! [repost from old account, it’s cute cus this was my first post from the old account and had the most notes oop]

❝ i can’t have him die please let me go if he goes, i do too❞

This was it, this could be the final battle you’d ever take part of. You knew you should have listened to your dad. The fact that it’s taking seven people to try to take down Thanos, and failing, just shows how powerful this guy is. The sounds of screams, shouts, and grunting as each fighter hit the barren planet filled your ears.

You hated it. This was the guy who wanted to commit mass genocide. He was hellbent on his goal, he believed he was right. God, what terrified you was that there are actual people from Earth that had the same thoughts as him, a few even followed through. But Thanos? He was on another level. Thanos was quite literally, a god.

“(Name), honey?” Tony called out. The plan was put into motion as each person did their job to prevent Thanos from closing his fist. “We’re going to need you soon.” The moment Mantis landed on top of Thanos, you jumped down onto the scene and the suit built for you came apart. You hated using your powers, you really did. It just caused you a huge headache.

Thanos shouted as he tried fighting Mantis’ powers to set him asleep. The bug-like woman clenched her eyes shut as she desperately put him to sleep. Her groans followed after as she struggled to fight against Thanos. Then in a moment, Thanos’ eyes fell back into his head and he was put in a trance-like state.

“Is he under?” Your dad asked desperately. “Don’t let out.” He began to try pulling off the gauntlet. Looking at you, scared of the fact that you’re out of the suit and Thanos could wake up anytime soon, he nodded at you. “(Name), you’re up.”

“Be quick,” Mantis cried out. “He is very strong.” Her face grew strained as she felt his emotions flow through her. The unfortunate fate of an empath…

“Parker?” Peter attached the webs to the rock nearby to keep Thanos trapped. He clambered over to Tony to help pull of the gauntlet. “Get over here, she can’t hold him off much longer. And (Name)?”

You looked up at your dad as your powers continued to manifest within you.

“No matter what, keep on using your powers,” he said. You nodded your head. You raised your hands and a purple stream flowed around them as it traveled towards your body. Gravity started to increase only on the gauntlet to help Peter and your dad. You needed absolute concentration in order to pull this plan off. Otherwise, your dad or Peter could die from a sudden increase in gravity, towards you as well.

You ignored what happened around you. The headache grew into a migraine but before you knew it, you stopped your powers the moment your father tackled Quill to the ground. You weren’t able to concentrate on the gauntlet very well as Peter moved positions to try getting it off. It’d take a while to reconcentrate as well but you ran to a different position, hoping to finish the job.

“I-I almost got it!” Peter cried out. You were taken aback to see Tony fighting Quill to prevent him from hitting Thanos. The glove was almost off. The glove was almost off.

Fear overran you as Mantis was thrown off and you cried out. “No!”

Peter uses his webs and caught her mid-air to prevent her from getting hurt. He tumbled onto the ground as the legs from his suit took the brute of the impact. He still yelped out in pain. Your dad was kicked to the side alongside Quill from Thanos.

“(Name)! Get back in the suit!” Your dad called out. You looked at your fallen dad only to see Strange get tossed to the side. Thanos quickly looked over at you with a snarl. You looked at him and back at where your suit was and you ran for your life. He began to walk towards you when Tony flew in front of him to prevent you from getting hurt. Thanos turned around quickly to use the power stone’s power to put down Quill, Drax, and Nebula as they jumped to attack at once.

Tony continued fighting the titan and even drew out a blade. You got into the suit and immediately lept into action, fighting alongside your father. You raised your hand back to punch the large opponent in the backside of his head only for him to swipe you to the side. You grunted as you hit the ground and rolled away, parts of your suit falling off. Your head hurt from using your powers from before, this surely didn’t help at all.

You looked up, your vision blurry. You saw your father fighting with a sword but he was tossed on the ground. Thanos raised his fit, bringing the moon of his planet to destruction and hurled the remaining bits towards the man of Iron.

“Dad!” You called out. You desperately clambered back up towards him.

“(Name), watch out!” You turned around only to see a huge piece of the moon about to hit you. Tony flew up and tried holding it back only for it to fall on the two of you. You thought quickly and got out of the suit, in a moments notice your gravitational powers activated and the rock didn’t fall back onto you. You breathed in relief only to realize that you and your suit was falling into impeding death.

“(Name), that was reckless,” Tony said as he caught you and quickly grabbed your suit.

“Sorry, just trying to help save the universe which includes you, dad,” you retorted as the suit formed on your body once more.

“Well, that was impressive of you to use your powers that quickly,” Tony complemented and looked down at you. You weren’t able to see his face but you know he was smiling at you.

“Thanks, let’s get back to fighting.” You looked over at the fight between Thanos and Strange, Peter in the background webbing everyone up into a safe place.

Tony shot a piece of his armor to prevent Thanos from closing his fist and immediately charged at him. You quickly followed from behind.

Tony landed in front of Thanos in a crouched position. “You throw another move at me,” Tony stood up to show his dominance as you landed, not as dramatic, behind him, “and I’m gonna lose it.”

“Stark. Or should I say Starks.” Thanos had a smug look on his face.

“You know us?” Tony asked.

“I do.” Thanos paused. “You’re not the only one cursed with knowledge.”

A plan of attack appeared on the screen of your mask. Tony sending you a message to use your missiles and a punch after he launches his.

“My only curse is you.” Tony’s suit popped up from the back, quickly launching missiles at the purple titan.

However, before it could hit Thanos he said. “I won’t throw a move at you, I’ll throw a move at them.” With a nod and a look at you, Tony was overtaken with fear as Thanos took the hit and jumped out of the cloud of dust. His large arms grabbed you from your stance and ripped off your helmet.

“Dad!” you screamed in fear. The others could only watch in horror as he gripped your head tighter. You grasped at the arm of the Titan as you tried to breath. Your legs dangling in the air as you kicked around.

“(Name)!” Tony called out. “Thanos, let them go.”

“You love them don’t you?” Thanos grinned. Fear pumped through your chest and you looked down at your dad who’s helmet came off. You both made eye contact and he nodded. In a moment you nodded, telling him you trusted him. “Maybe, I’ll just end them.” Tony shifted his foot stance when he heard those words from the man’s mouth. “Or, brainwash them to become a child of Thanos.”

“Not if I can help it.” Nebula jumped from behind hitting her father in the head. Tony was surprised himself as he was going to save you. Thanos let go of you and you fell to the floor but your jets activated to prevent you from becoming a pancake.

“(Name), get out of here,” Tony urged you.

Nebula was quickly put down again once more from the power stone and Tony engaged in a drawn-out fight with Thanos. But his suit started getting more and more destroyed. In a last resort, Tony drew out a blade but Thanos quickly grabbed it and broke it off. Only to pierce it back into him.

In an instance time stopped, to see the blade go through the abdomen of your father caused you to scream out for him. You flew towards him only for Peter to pull you back.

“(Name), no you’re going to get hurt,” Peter said.

“Parker,” you sobbed out the helmet opened up to reveal your face, “That’s my dad. Please. Please, that’s my dad. I can’t have him die. Please let me go, if he goes I do too.” Peter held you closer as you watched your dad fall to the ground. Tears streamed down your face and Peter couldn’t bear to look at your face. Thanos raised his fist up towards him to try to kill him.

“Stop.” Your breathing hitched when you heard Strange speak up. With a few breathes Strange looked up at Thanos. “Spare his life.”

“I will not, for a moment, hesitate to protect this stone over you, your kid, or Parker.” Strange’s words rang out in your head from earlier. You cried out once more while trying to remain silent.

“And I will give you the stone.” The two opponents on the main battlefield stared at each other.

“No tricks,” Thanos said. He lowered his arm but raised it towards Strange who shook his head in response.

“Don’t.” Tony chocked out. You were so confused. Let your dad live? Or save the universe. Fate was cruel. Strange raised his hand as if he went to grab something from a star. The time stone appeared in an instance and he gave it to his enemy.

Thanos reached out for it in joy. But Tony let out a heavy breath of defeat. His life was saved, but at what cost? Thanos attached the stone to his gauntlet and disappeared into a rift.

“Did we just lose?” Quill asked as he flew from where Peter put him. You cried out as you flew towards your dad. The blade wasn’t in his abdomen anymore but he was still bleeding out.

Your dad looked at Strange as he sat down against a rock, “Why would you do that?” Strange only looked at you in response and Tony’s eyes followed.

You put your hand to his wound and let out a stream of ice to help your dad. He hissed out in pain but gritted his teeth. “Dad, I thought, I thought I was going to lose you.” You wrapped your arm around his neck, trying to not hurt him anymore than he already was.

The fight was lost, but the war was still yet to be won. Everyone gathered around, even though everyone was very injured. Mantis limped towards you with the help of Quill only for her face to grow distressed.

“Something’s happening,” she said. Tony and you stood up the moment you saw her legs fade away. Drax soon followed when he looked at his captain.

“Quill?” You gasped and put your hand over your mouth as Drax let out his last breath before fading.

Quill looked at you and Tony with hopes that you guys would still live.

“Quill…” You reached out towards him.

“Steady Quill,” Tony said.

Quill’s face grew anguished as his last words were, “Oh man.”

Fear overcame you. Were you next? Your dad? Peter? Strange? What about your friends? Everything was happening too fast for you to comprehend. Why was this happening. Why couldn’t they have won like always? Heroes always win you thought. Tears ran down your face as you saw Strange fade away. For a second you wish he didn’t save your father until he told you that this had to happen.

“(Name)? Mr. Stark? I-I don’t feel so good.” Peter stumbled and you saw his legs and hands fade away slower than the rest of them.

“You’re alright,” Tony hoped. Peter fell against your father.

“I-I don’t know what’s happening,” he cried, “I don’t-” Peter grasped Tony harder hoping he could ground himself. You looked down at yourself feeling yourself fade away even slower than Peter.

“I don’t want to go, sir, please. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go.” Tony set Peter down and you saw the fear in his eyes that reflected in your own. “I’m sorry.” Tony held onto what was Peter Parker’s ashes as his worst nightmare became a reality.

You screamed and fell to the floor grasping your head. You were a teenager, you weren’t supposed to feel this, you weren’t supposed to watch your friends die. Your dad turned around to see you starting to fade.

“(Name), honey, no, please,” Tony cried out. “Not like this.” He reached out towards you, cradling you in his arms as he held your face. You reached up towards his hand on your cheek with tears streaming down.

“Dad? Dad please, please save me,” You cried. “You’ll always be my hero, right? You-” Your dad tried shushing you, to save your breath. “You always fix everything. You-You’re my hero, dad.”

“It’s okay,” Tony whispered as he wiped the tears away from your face with his thumb. But before either of you knew it, you already evaporated into ashes. He clenched his fists into his chest. No sounds could be heard from the grieving father. If one were an empath and were to hold him, indescribable feelings of anguish, sadness, fear, and anger flowed through him.

Tony was going to save you. He will, he’ll save Parker, Strange, even Quill, no matter what he had to do.

#tony stark x stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #male!reader #neutral!reader #a.writes

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theunvanquishedzims · 4 years

Text

Disney, a Little to the Left pt.1

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The Archdeacon thought he had inspired a true come-to-God moment in the Judge, but the man’s fear lasted only long enough to hear the consequences of his actions. “Saddled with this misshapen creature” was a telling enough reaction. Immediately abandoning the child to the church’s custody could be the act of a busy old man with no childcare experience, but demanding the infant be locked away where no one else could see it was not the action of a man truly intending to raise a child. The way he called it a foul creature and said it may someday be of use to him was the final nail in the coffin of the Archdeacon’s trust.

The cruel name he tried to give the boy rang in the Archdeacon’s ears as he carried the infant inside, louder than any bell. He snorted to himself. “The bell tower indeed,” he muttered. A good place to drown out the cries of an unwanted child, not a soothing place to help a newborn sleep. The boy would be deaf in a month if he lived there.

“I tried,” he sighed as he lit a candle for the soul of the mother, her body still cooling on the front steps. He would need to rouse the gravedigger. “Jesus, Mary and all the saints as my witnesses, I tried to help him atone.” So saying, he prayed a quiet curse upon the Judge, and a plea for forgiveness for his own actions that night. Following the gravedigger to the cemetery, he prayed as many blessings as he could think of over the child. The church at least would guarantee him a pious life full of light and music, scriptures and psalms surrounding him every day of his life...but not safety. The Judge was a murderer, and appealing to his piety had failed. It was naive of him to try, but one must be a little naive to have faith, the Archdeacon mused as he left the gravedigger to his work. He would return to preside over her rites, but for now...

“At least you will have some miracles in your life, little one,” he whispered as he pressed in a stone on the mausoleum and descended the stairs into the crypts. It wasn’t long before he was accosted by the gypsies, but his garb afforded him certain protections. “One of yours,” he said, holding out the quietly snuffling bundle. “The mother is upstairs, soon to be downstairs.” He tried to smile as he tacked on “And soon after, hopefully, further upstairs.”

The masked man chuckled, causing the others surrounding the pair to laugh as well. A little gallows humor was always well received in the catacombs, and in such grim times even a priest’s poor attempt at a joke was cause for mirth. He prayed another silent prayer of forgiveness for the mother’s soul, as though he could deliver her to the gates of Heaven by will alone. Dying to protect her child was surely enough blood to cover even the most egregious of sins. The Virgin Mother would understand, he believed. A strange gulping noise drew him back to the moment.

The jester’s face below the mask was stretched out in a rictus of a grin, frozen for just a moment as he gazed into the bundle. The Archdeacon stopped himself from snatching the child away from the uncertain reception, and for the second time that night, trusted.

“Ah yes, I recognize him immediately!” the jester burst out, and the Archdeacon relaxed. There was some good in humanity after all. “Why this is my nephew...!” The Archdeacon shrugged at the split-second glance. He would not repeat the insult the Judge tried to saddle the boy with. “...Ruskin! Who could forget him, with such lovely red hair!”

“He doesn’t look like any of your nephews,” said a skinny boy with straight black hair, clad in an outfit to match the jester’s, peering around his father’s side to frown at the infant.

“Fool!” shrieked a puppet that manifested above his head, bringing down a small wooden mallet upon said head. “He is obviously the son of our great-aunt’s father’s third cousin’s best friend’s brother’s niece-in-law!” “Be nice to your cousin,” added the jester in his normal voice as the boy whimpered and rubbed his head, handing the bundle down and shooing the children away into the darkness.

The Archdeacon could pass no further than this, he knew. The tentative peace between the gypsies and the church only stretched so far. Still, he watched until the child’s shadow melted away in the flickering light of the torches, knowing this could well be the last time he saw the boy. The jester coughed and raised an eyebrow at him, and the Archdeacon flushed. So many sins to atone for tonight, he thought guiltily as he pulled a candelabra from under his cloak. There were muted exclamations from the men around him as the gold glinted in the firelight. The jester’s eyes sharpened, gaze going calculating and wary, but face still smiling.

“To cover the cost of his upbringing,” the archdeacon said, heading off any questions and doing his best to anticipate potential arguments. This was the most dangerous thing he had ever done, and he felt it in his bones. One wrong step and his skeleton would join the piles around them. “The donor recently passed away, it will not be missed,” he said carefully, feeling for the right words and trying to instill them with authority. “I give it freely, under my authority as archdeacon, to match your generosity in caring for the poor orphan left on our doorstep.”

“Whyever would I need such a gift, for caring for my dear darling nephew, my own flesh and blood?” the jester chirped back at him. The archdeacon steadied his breath and willed his outstretched hand equally steady, feeling the strain, both the weight of the candle holder and the gazes of the thieves surrounding him. He had not been cut down yet, he reminded himself, and that was as good as invitation. He chose his words with even greater care.

“Flesh and blood needs food and drink to sustain it, and the boy may not be able to earn his keep.” The outside as twisted as it is, there is no telling what ailments lay inside. “And being born in such a cold season, it may prove...unhealthy for the child to be upstairs.” It’s not safe for him in Paris proper. “Such a pale child needs sunlight to blossom, though. You may find, when he gets older, that he requires a warmer climate to survive.” Living in the catacombs forever is not an option for a growing boy, but better to pack him into a southbound caravan than risk sending him out to be discovered by the Judge.

The jester pinned him with another long stare, but then the weight in his hand was gone and the candelabra was a glinting, golden spiral as the jester twirled it, cackling madly. The tension in the air was also gone in a rush, laughter and whoops filling the silence. At least two sharp points were suddenly absent from his back, the Archdeacon realized belatedly. He hadn’t even noticed they were there. Hopefully he would not have spots of blood on his clothes to account for later.

“Such a generous gift, but alas, we have no use for candleholders, being torch people ourselves,” the jester said with a grand wave of his arm and a wink. You’ll never see this again, it will be broken and melted by the end of the night. The Archdeacon could read between the lines too. He nodded his head, relief almost turning the dip into a half-bow, and tried not to gasp as the torches all went out at once.

Not even the sound of splashed could be heard and the gypsies abandoned him in the dark, and he was left to grope his way back to the stairs by touch alone. Unpleasant enough in a stone church, but surrounded by the dead, with not even a whisper of moonlight to guide him, it was the stuff of nightmares. He mentally subtracted ten Hail Marys from his running total for the night. Twelve, he thought with a shudder as his fingers caught in an eye socket, feet stumbling upon the stone steps that lead him back up to the safety of the graveyard.

How could anyone call it dark or frightening, he wondered as he climbed out of the grave and scurried a little faster than dignified back to where he left the gravedigger. It was positively bright with silver moonlight and friendly with familiar headstones, the layer of snow casting a heavenly white blanket over the scene. He reached the side of the gravedigger, who quirked a look at him but otherwise kept his mouth shut. An admirable trait in any man, the Archdeacon thought gratefully as he launched into the most heartfelt rites he’d given that year, prayers and blessings pouring over the woman’s shroud as they lowered her to her final rest, the Archdeacon a bit more carefully than the gravedigger.

“-forever and ever, amen. I’ll have a warm meal for you when you’re finished,” he promised the gravedigger. The man merely grunted and picked up his shovel, cold soil cascading back into the hole as he returned to work. The Archdeacon returned to his own work, numb feet carrying him back to the church. First wash the blood from the steps, lest it offend the eyes of the Holy. Then the meal, and perhaps a hot drink for both of them. And then...penance. For this night, and the day that would surely come, when the Judge returned to see his creature. Alas, the poor blighted thing did not survive, its ailments too great, only the love of its mother sustaining it outside the womb for so long. The lie was already fixed firmly in the Archdeacon’s mind, and though he hoped it would bring the Judge even a shred of guilt, he knew in his heart that it would not.

The Archdeacon would waste no more prayers on the man after this night. Judge Claude Frollo was bound for Hell.

#writing #fic rec #disney #the hunchback of notre dame #AUs are still my favorite thing #this is going to be a series #not necessarily happy endings #just how things might have gone differently #a little to the left #I know practically nothing about Catholicism #feel free to correct me on any major mistakes

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grandtheftstarship · 5 years

Text

I Will Spend My Whole Life Loving You (Spock x Fem!Reader) [Request!]

“Fic Request: Spock x Fem!Reader (Vulcan/Human hybrid) go on a romantic date!”

”Headcanon or Fic Request: fem!Reader being married to Spock!”

“Request: Spock x Human-Vulcan Fem!Reader get married on the Enterprise. Preferably TOS Spock please.”

- @sovereignoblivious

Hi there! Thank you for requesting :) I decided to mash these all into one since they are all kind of similar. I hope you don’t mind! Also, I write for mainly AOS but nothing really distinguishes it from TOS so you can imagine it taking place in TOS if you would like! I also totally forgot about the vulcan/human hybrid until I was about 1k words in, so if it’s not as well represented I’m so sorry!! I tried to fit it in as best I could :(

I wrote this like a recap of your relationship with Spock, so there’s not much dialogue. I tried to be as detailed as possible!

Also, sorry for the lack of updates... the school year just ended and I went on vacation for two weeks to visit my family in Hawai’i! I had no wifi for nearly 10 days and let me tell you it was AWFUL. Haha. I’m so glad to be home. The rest of this summer will hopefully be full of updates! Keep the requests coming!

ALSO, THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE FOLLOWS!!!!! I gained 20 more followers while I was away! I love you all so much :D!!!

Word Count: 2377 Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of self-harm/self-loathing

Send a request!

You had absolutely hated Spock at first. Boiling, raw, pure hatred for him, even though your reasons were unfair and you knew it.

Your initial thought was to just avoid him as much as possible, but that plan was eventually foiled when you realized how difficult that was going to be when he was in almost all of your classes, his dorm was literally directly across the street (like you could look out your window and see right through his window, how you both happened to be on the 17th floor in separate buildings and the same room number was beyond you) and you saw him probably more than ten times a day.

He was there on the walk to class in the morning, there during class, there during lunch hour, even there sometimes on the walk home after class. Once you thought it couldn’t get any worse, your professors started pairing the two of you for group projects. When you asked why, all of their answers ran along the same lines: ‘You both need to learn to get along’ or ‘You could learn a lot from each other’ and other shit like that. You started getting suspicious when you suddenly had four projects assigned with him as your partner. You asked your friends about it when you were getting frustrated and all they did was share a look between each other and shrug. When you and Spock set a date to finally start working on all of your projects, you started dreading it. You found yourself lingering around, whether it be to ask a professor a question that you already knew the answer to after class was over or staying late at the library so that you wouldn't have to go to bed and wake up the next morning, a whole day closer to doomsday. You tried to tell yourself that the reason you were doing that was because you hated him and didn’t want to be around him for any amount of time, but when the familiar burning sensation you always felt when thinking of him started morphing into something else you got scared. The change startled you, suddenly feeling self-conscious and unsure as opposed to your typically confident nature. It was all so new and it was especially frightening when you didn’t have enough time to unpack it before your workday with Spock, so, instead of dealing with it, you tried to push it all down.

When the day finally came, it took every ounce of willpower you had to roll out of bed and get dressed. It was a Saturday so you didn’t need to be dressed in uniform, so you went with some black sweats that had ‘STARFLEET’ written down one side and a [f/c] tank top. It was a little chilly outside, so you threw your favorite hoodie on as you walked out the door. You tied your hair back in the elevator, careful to leave enough down to cover your ears, put your keycard into the side pocket of your backpack and you started the walk to the campus library.

If there was one thing you were most self-conscious about it was your Vulcan ears. You didn’t like your Vulcan side as much because of your father. He was half-Vulcan half-human, while you were three-quarters human and only one-fourth Vulcan. You were glad you only inherited the ears, not the eyebrows. You and your father didn’t have the best relationship, or any relationship at all, really, and you never knew why. He was often strict and unfeeling, never exercising his human side in front of you. He left when you were eight years old for a Vulcan science mission and never came back. Your mother still loved him, though you never saw him show any sign of affection back. You always believed your mother deserved better, and that was when your hatred for Vulcans started to manifest. Starting with yourself.

A few years after he left you fell into a dark place, although you were exceptional at hiding it. You would often stare at your sharply pointed ears in the mirror and pull on them, hoping that if you pulled hard enough from the bottom they would even out. You would wear earmuffs year-round so that nobody would see. When you were fifteen, you snuck out and got them pierced several times so that they would appear more human. They also compelled you to become more emotional to appear less like your father.

You shook yourself out of your reverie as you walked out of the front entrance of your building.

Luckily for you, Spock was not walking down the opposite sidewalk so you slid your headphones under your hood over your ears and shuffled your playlist. The walk was much shorter than you would’ve preferred and you sauntered up the steps into the vast hall. Since everybody was off, the library was used more as a hangout area than a quiet study hall, save for the actual study hall in the back, so it was a bit louder than usual.

You spotted Spock sitting at one of the smaller open tables next to one of the windows overlooking the grounds. The fluttery-anxious feeling was back again, causing you to swallow hard as you approached him.

“Hey,” you called as he looked up from the window.

“Hey,” he greeted, somewhat awkwardly. Setting your backpack down, you sat down across from him. He was wearing casual clothes too; a plain green sweater and some jeans, though you thought it was cute how he still wore his badge. You shut your eyes tightly and cursed yourself.

I don’t think he looks cute, I don’t think he looks cute, I don’t think he looks cute-

“[y/n], are you feeling alright?” he asked.

You opened your eyes and glared at him.

“Fine, just mentally preparing,” you snapped.

He did what you could only assume was his version of an eye roll, but what surprised you was the flicker of a smile that passed over his features. It was only there for a fraction of a second, but your cheeks reddened as your heart raced.

What is happening to me?

“Would you like to begin?” he started pulling out papers and you gulped.

This was going to be a long day.

Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. You had never really sat down and talked with Spock before, and to your astonishment, he was a really cool person. You both talked for hours, barely getting any work done, and before you knew it the library was empty and it was almost nine pm. You packed up your things and headed back towards your dorms you continued to talk and he continued to make you laugh and once you made it to the front entrance of your building you couldn’t even remember why you had hated him in the first place.

You smiled and told him goodnight, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks. You swore that you saw his own cheeks tint green. You both stared back at each other for a moment, feeling yourself gravitate towards each other for a brief second before you realized what you were doing and leaned back a little. He bid you goodnight and with the tiniest little smile you had ever seen, he turned away and crossed the street. You shook yourself out of your daze and hurried inside, texting your friends to meet you asap in your dorm. Even though it was late, you knew your friends and their Saturday night habits.

You asked them about Spock again, this time a little less aggressively. They looked shocked at your calm, almost lovestruck expression settled over your features, glancing worriedly between themselves.

Your friends were there for hours talking with you about your feelings and how you were to deal with them until you all fell asleep. They told you that this was just a case of misinterpretation of feelings, so when you felt so strongly towards Spock you mistook it for hatred when it was really admiration and infatuation. The confirmed that the same thing had happened to Spock, though he had realized much sooner. When you asked them what that meant, they dropped the bombshell on you.

“[y/n],” [friend’s name] said gently. “Spock has been smitten with you since midterms. Almost everyone knows, except for you apparently.”

You sat and stared for a minute, unsure how to react. Giddiness rose above all the other emotions you were feeling, forcing a smile to form on your lips. You felt all choked up, excitement raising your heartrate and slowly taking away your ability to breathe.

“So, even the teachers know?” you managed to force out. Your friends chuckled.

The teachers assumed something was going on, but didn’t know for sure since you acted so hostile towards him all the time so they went out of their way to pair you and Spock together.

You thanked your friends and invited them to stay the night.

The next day you had planned to work with Spock again, so you left your friends a note and told them they could stay as long as they liked as long as they locked the door before they left.

You met Spock at the library again but this time you actually did get some work done, and quickly. When you both finished, you packed your things and took a walk around the grounds. You talked all day about random things, interests, favorites, childhood (you tried your best to leave out the part about your father) and a little bit about your hopes for the future. You did most of the talking, though Spock did contribute on occasion, like he talked a bit about his love (or as he put it, ‘subtle interest’ but you knew better) for music and his passion for science.

Hours passed quickly and the sunset came quickly. You and Spock were sat on a grassy slope overlooking the San Fransisco Bay, watching the sunset.

“[y/n], I have something to confess,” he broke the silence. You turned to him.

“Go ahead.”

“The truth of the matter is that I harbor no malice or hatred towards you,” he started, looking away from you. Even in the dim golden light from the descending sun, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “My... feelings towards you are quite the opposite.”

You stared blankly at him for a moment. Even though you had already known, hearing it come from his was a totally different story. You scooted a little closer to him and placed your head down on his shoulder. He relaxed beneath you, accepting the action as one of reciprocation. You felt his hand brush over yours and the spark that followed after confirmed a Vulcan kiss. You raised your head up to meet his eyes, which flickered between your lips and back up. You leaned in slowly to give him time to back out if he wasn’t comfortable, but to your surprise, he was the one to close the distance.

This kiss was sweet and only lasted a few seconds. When you pulled away, you could see the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. Your smile faded, though, when you remembered your lie.

“I have to tell you something,” you said softly. He nodded slowly, letting you remove your hand from his light hold.

You pulled your hood back and tucked your hair behind your now exposed ear. You couldn’t look him in the eye as he stared at your earring-ridden ear that mirrored his.

“You’re... Vulcan?”

“A quarter,” you replied softly, wringing your hands in your lap. Spock reached out to grasp them in his own, forcing you to look back up into his eyes.

“Why did you feel the need to hide this from me?” he asked you gently. “It would not and does not change the effect that you have on me.”

So, you explained in the waning sunlight what actually happened in your childhood and the issues with your father, why you ended up hating all Vulcans and that’s why you hated him too in the beginning.

“You don’t need to be ashamed of your heritage because of him,” he told you when you finished. “You don’t need to hide part of who you are because of his mistakes. I can assist you in exploring our culture to help change your views if you would like.”

You threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

_____________

You and Spock stayed together for the remaining years at the academy. You brought him home to meet your mother (who instantly approved) and you did almost everything together. Date night was your favorite time of the week, which ranged from movie nights or fancy dinners. Your favorite one was when he took you out of the city to go stargazing and set up the cutest little picnic complete with lanterns and fairy lights. It was romantic and beautiful being there with him and listening to the wildlife as the stars made themselves known. He showed you all the constellations he knew of.

Before you knew it you were both assigned on missions. At first, you were separated; you on the USS Bradbury and him on the USS Enterprise, but with some convincing, you were reassigned to the Enterprise.

After your first run-in with danger when Nero attacked and your near-death experience, Spock decided it was time to pop the question. You were married not long after by Jim, who you had gotten very close to because of Spock. You had asked Nyota to be your maid of honor and Spock chose Leonard (who agreed despite his recurring annoyance with the Vulcan). You were awarded a larger, shared quarters and time off duty to spend time together.

Married life was much more normal than you had originally thought it was going to be. Everything just started to slow down around you, and you always had a sense of calm whenever Spock was near you. The butterflies you always felt when he was around died down and instead you felt an overwhelming amount of safety and comfort.

He was all you had ever wanted, and he was forever yours.

#star trek #star trek fanfic #Star Trek Fanfiction #star trek aos #star trek aos x reader #star trek aos reader inserts #spock #spock fanfiction #spock x reader #spock imagines #spock x femreader #star trek spock fanfiction

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libraryscarf · 4 years

Text

i was thrilled to write something for @fast-moon for the @noragamisecretsanta2019. i hope you like this silly little slice-of-life, and consider it a sincere ‘thank you’ for all you do for the fandom. <3

we fish you a merry christmas

“That kid doesn’t get out enough,” Daikoku mutters, glancing into the loft where two figures sit eyebrow-deep in a pile of textbooks. Hiyori’s been putting Yukine through his paces as the final year of high school bears down on her, and it wouldn’t surprise Daikoku if she were on the verge of springing a practice test or two on her captive student.

“Whatcha doin’, peeping Tom?”

The voice at his elbow makes Daikoku jump. The goblinish smirk on Yato’s face somehow makes it exponentially more punchable.

“You’re one to talk,” Daikoku snarls. “Has Hiyori forgiven you for your little photo collection yet?”

Yato blanches. “That’s—that’s water under the bridge.”

“Should I remind her of when her sleeping face was your lock screen?”

“Waitwaitwait, I’m sorry, please don’t, Daikoku, I’ll do anything--”

Daikoku grins. That’s more like it.

“Don’t you think he’s lookin’ a little anemic?” he asks, motioning with his head at Yukine, who remains miraculously engrossed in studying despite the disruption right outside the door.

“Anemic?” Yato repeats stupidly.

Daikoku’s eyebrows pull together. “Peaky,” he clarifies. “Pale. Wan. Feeble. Insipid.”

Yato bristles. “You calling my boy feeble?”

“He needs some fresh air! All kids do!”

“He gets plenty of that when we’re on jobs,” Yato says in a dismissive tone, before withering like a sunflower under Daikoku’s freezing glare.

“You call scrubbing strangers’ toilets and picking up after your littering ass, ‘getting fresh air?’” he rumbles menacingly.

“What are we saying about your littering ass?” Yukine asks, his head popping into sudden view around the door.

“Respect your elders!” Yato and Daikoku thunder in unison.

: : :

“So where are we going?”

“Somewhere.”

Yukine grimaces.

“You know, Daikoku, it’s not that I don’t totally trust your intentions and all, but sneaking me out of the house, away from both Yato and Kofuku is…well…”

Daikoku grinds his teeth so hard his jaw cracks like a gunshot.

“Kid, for the last goddamn time, I am not a—”

“There you are!” Hiyori trots toward them, a backpack slung over her shoulder and a big, floppy sunhat bouncing with every step. Her arms are bare and freckled, like she’s been spending quite a bit of time outdoors.

“I thought I heard someone yelling,” she says brightly.

“I wasn’t yelling,” Daikoku grumbles.

“You were kind of yelling,” says Nora, silently manifesting right behind Yukine, who curses with such vigor that Daikoku and Hiyori both “shush” him.

“Please don’t do that again,” Yukine gasps, clutching his chest. Nora pats his shoulder in apology.

The four of them continue along the same path for about half an hour, until quite suddenly an arresting view opens up in front of them. It’s a small, sparkling lake, the surface of it as flat and peaceful as a mirror. Rocks, slick with algae, line the shores. Except for the monotone rill of summer insects, it is absolutely silent. To Daikoku, the existence of this place feels like a great miracle.

“Wow,” says Yukine, appropriately awestruck. Hiyori’s eyes are round. “This is so pretty!” she exclaims.

“Lots of fish live here too,” utters a small voice to their left. The three of them turn to see Ebisu, balancing precariously on one of the slippery rocks nearby, a hand shading his eyes as he gazes pensively across the lake.

“I protect this place,” he states almost casually, his eyes fixed somewhere distant across the bright water. “That’s why it can still be so quiet like this, even in the middle of such a big city.”

Hiyori, Yukine, and Nora look to Daikoku, as though expecting him to tell them he’d known this all along. He hadn’t.

Then Ebisu slips.

“Oh!” he cries, as his legs shoot out from under his tiny body. But before he hits either the rock or the slimy surface of the algae, Daikoku springs into action. Plunging shin-deep into the water, he snatches Ebisu from the jaws of what would almost certainly be a nasty concussion.

“Young master!?” Kunimi explodes from the edge of the trees, his face the color of a ripe plum and his suit a wrinkled, muddy disaster. “How did you get so far ahead of me?”

“Your guidepost is shirkin’ his duties,” Daikoku mutters.

“He is still fairly new to his job,” Ebisu says, seeming absolutely unbothered by his own close call with disaster. “He needs a few centuries to get to Iwami’s level.”

Kunimi reaches the edge of the lake and doubles over, heaving with exertion. After he regains his wind, Daikoku strides back to shore and hands Ebisu off to his disheveled guidepost.

“You’ll be joinin’ us then?” Daikoku jerks his head back toward Hiyori, Yukine, and Nora. Hiyori, having seen Ebisu safely back to shore, kneels and begins unpacking her backpack. Yukine and Nora watch as she removes a canister of bait and unfolds a long fishing pole.

“Fishing?” Yukine says incredulously.

“Yeah,” Daikoku says, walking over and taking the rod Hiyori holds out to him. “You three really need some off-time. This is one of the best ways to blow off steam.”

Yukine, looking a touch green, eyes the squirming bait in the canister Hiyori has just uncapped. “Couldn’t we have just played ‘catch’ or something?” he says mournfully.

Daikoku glances at him from the corner of his eye. “You wanna play catch?”

Yukine turns pink. “No! Absolutely not! It was an example! A what-if situation!”

A grin tugs at the corner of Daikoku’s mouth. “Got it, kid.”

After he hands out the fishing rods, it grows quickly apparent to Daikoku that he has severely overestimated the hand-eye coordination, as well as the capacity for silent waiting, of two of his three charges. Hiyori does quite well, having accompanied several summer fishing trips with her father, but not so well that she manages to actually hook anything at the end of her line. Yukine makes miserable noises as he applies the bait to his tackle, then becomes ensnared with his own fishing line and must be untangled by Kunimi. Nora refuses the fishing rod outright, preferring to wade waist-deep into the water, vanish beneath the surface, and reappear seconds later holding a live, struggling fish in each fist.

“Do I win?” she asks calmly.

“This isn’t a—” competition, Daikoku is about to say, but before he can finish, something streaks past him and plummets into the water, churning up waves like a school of piranha.

“If I am to win, I must know the method and the stakes,” comes a voice from the edge of the trees, and Bishamon appears with a small retinue of her shinki.

“Why are they here?” Yukine whispers out of the corner of his mouth to Nora, who is attempting to stack her growing pile of squirming captives against an errant boulder, but mostly succeeding in creating a sort of fish Slip’N’Slide down into the algae.

Nana’s messy head surfaces from the middle of the lake with a splash, and its owner gives a muffled whoop. “Hugh guht wuh!” she crows, teeth clamped around a struggling trout.

Daikoku hauls Nora back from her sixth journey into the lake to capture more innocent fish and plants her firmly next to Yukine with a fishing rod in her hand. “We’re learning with these,” he says emphatically, then begins to shovel her hard-won pile of scaly trophies back into the lake, where they thrash away from the shore as fast as possible, shimmering like little bolts of lightning beneath the water.

“Well then that’s just cheating,” Nora says, pointing at where Ebisu stands at the very edge of the shore, hand held safely in Kunimi’s. The water right in front of him is boiling with eager fish that are nearly throwing themselves onto the rocks at his feet. He leans down, reaches into the foaming mass, and effortlessly pulls out a fish.

“Seriously,” Daikoku says in despair, “Why is everyone here?”

A pink head pops out from behind Bishamon.

“I told them!” Kofuku says gleefully, then launches herself at Daikoku, tackling both of them into the water.

: : :

“So when you heard me say, ‘I’m taking Hiyori, Yukine, and Nora on a quiet fishing trip to the lake,’ what you actually heard was ‘Tell everyone in our circle of acquaintance there’s a big competition at the lake; be there or face eternal dishonor’?”

Kofuku’s wet hair smacks into her face as she nods at Daikoku. “Yep! Pretty much!”

Yukine glares at her, utterly betrayed. “You said you could keep Yato off my case for one day.”

“And I did!” she chirps. Yukine looks pointedly at Yato, who, once he saw Hiyori was trying to fish, could not be persuaded away from joining her. So far all he’s managed is to lose his bait, break a pole, and frighten away every single fish investigating Hiyori’s line.

“Okay,” Kofuku corrects. “But I tried. You didn’t give me enough Umaibō!”

“I gave you fourteen.”

Kofuku shrugs. “He’s insatiable.”

Yukine gazes forlornly down at his fishing pole. “Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m not gonna be able to catch anything.”

Daikoku grunts. Then he snatches a piece of bait from the canister, stuffs it in his pocket, and steers Yukine away from the crowd of people at the shore. Yato and Hiyori glance up at them as they walk off, and for a moment it looks like Yato wants to follow, but Kofuku (occasionally, if not entirely reliable), throws her arms around his neck and knocks him straight into the water.

“Try here,” Daikoku says, once they’ve reached a quiet stretch of shore on the opposite side of the little lake.

Yukine still looks skeptical. To give him a little nudge in the right direction, Daikoku pulls the bait out of his pocket, picks off the lint, and affixes it to the end of the fishing line.

“Trust me, kid.”

After a few failed casts, Yukine manages to send his line out far enough for any questing fish to bite. He settles down on the rock, and Daikoku crouches next to him, both their eyes searching the ripples.

Several minutes go by. Daikoku clears his throat.

“So…how’s school?”

Yukine’s mouth twitches.

“It’s good. Hiyori’s kinda strict, but she’s really smart and knows how to explain stuff.”

Daikoku rubs his chin. “Great,” he mutters. “That’s great.”

Yukine snorts quietly. “You know, it’s okay with me if we just sit here and fish in silence.”

Daikoku deflates in relief. “Thank god.”

After a few more minutes of wordless waiting, Yukine’s shoulders seem to loosen.

“I think you were right about blowing off steam,” he admits. “This is…nice. Even if I don’t catch anything.”

The edges of Daikoku’s mouth soften. “It ain’t so much about the catching,” he says. “It’s more about the sitting.”

Not particularly profound advice, but Yukine nods solemnly, like it’s the truest wisdom he’s ever heard.

Then, a tug comes at the end of the line.

#scarfwrites #noragamisecretsanta2019 #fast-moon #noragami #noragami fanfiction #i've never gone fishing.#my only experience comes from stardew valley and i'm pretty sure that's Exactly how it works irl

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ffxiv-ariavitali · 4 years

Text

micro story writing prompts #13: ‘too loud’ and #15: ‘trembling hands’

or personal writing prompt, ‘burning’ [inspired by Violet Evergarden]

AO3 ver.

The pumping within her veins was setting fire to her entire body. She felt the burns too keenly, both the ones that marred her body moons ago as well as the ones imprinted into her soul. It was too much, far too much, for a single individual to handle and yet the gods above decided that this was to be her fate.

Aria chuckled at the prospect of such, laughed at the idea that the cruel machinations of fate decided that she were to undergo a series of pain and torture. The voices of those that she has slain echoed from the deepest part of her heart, from the side of her that she - at first - wished never to see surface again.

The smiles of her friends, blood seeping from the corner of their lips. The anger of the fallen that she had slain as she did what she must.

The hopeful eyes of their loved ones, wondering when the victims would ever return.

It was loud, much too loud, within her head. The last wishes, the curses, the sight, sound and smell of death accompanying her blade. Each added to the throne of bones lying in her wake along a liquid red carpet of the blood offering they have given - whether they were aware of it or not.

How could she end this? How could she make this go away? When will the burning stop?

A cool breeze wrapped around her in a protective bubble, soothing the self-inflicted, imaginary pain as if it was there. The Hyuran woman peered up, without full awareness her cheeks were stricken with tears, and saw the ghost of two figures at her side.

Of the two figures she created, made manifest of her heart.

Fray encircled his arms from behind her, his hands resting atop of hers from where she gripped the handle of her claymore. The trembling she wasn’t aware existed dissipated upon realization, upon the comfort of a kindred spirit that she had forgotten was always looking out for her.

“‘Tis alright,” he said, a rough voice echoing in her mind in a gentle whisper. “Just a little longer. We are with you.”*

Myste, as small as he was, stood in front of Aria with arms outstretched, as if using himself as a shield to protect her. The same protective bubble she had initially felt glowed softly in patterns akin to the starry skies of the heavens above. The light in the dark, the beacons of hope in the blackest night.

“You remember, don’t you?” he asked of her, peering over his shoulder to present her with a kind smile. “Think of us in your darkest hour. We love you. Forever will we love you.”

Tears further spilled from the woman’s amethyst eyes and she felt her body ready to rack with sobs.

Nonetheless, this wasn’t the time. The threat of war loomed before her, here on the front lines of Ghimlyt Dark, and her fellow Scions were left behind, caught unconscious by whatever affliction has banished them to a land of dreams - if that’s what’s even keeping them from returning.

A magitek colossus appeared before the woman and swiped her aside, sending her flying back half a dozen yalms. While the pain was minimized thanks to the blessings given to her by those she holds dear to her heart, it didn’t stop her from coughing up splotches of blood onto the ground.

In the distance, there was a cry, one from a voice she had grown accustomed to hearing in a land of ice and snow. Simply hearing it growing closer and closer fueled the fire within, reignited by the reminder given to her by the deepest part of her soul.

“Aria!” the lord commander shouts. “Aria, are you alright-!”

Before she answered, the Hyuran woman turned with her claymore gripped tightly in her hands and Plunged towards the colossus that had knocked her away. Rejuvenated with energy and using the pain mitigated from her by the memories of those deep within, Aria positioned her body to take down the magitek armory with a Bloodspiller, finishing it off with an Edge of Darkness for good measure. The moment that it crashed to the ground was the moment that Aymeric had finally reached the woman’s side.

“By the Fury!” he exclaimed, his ice blue eyes wild with worry. “Fall back, we will hold the line.”

Aria’s lips curl to a grin — up to the challenge and not without a tinge of madness as one of greatness is wont to have.

“Nay, Aym, I would fight for a bit longer,” she answered in kind.

Aymeric’s eyes widened. “But, Ia, you are injured!”

“And I would fain accept a chirurgeon’s ministrations after this last push!” she responded. The Warrior of Light then turned towards the advancing battalion led by the lord commander, recognizing symbols marking different houses of the Pillars — including her own.

(Truly, the use of a crimson lily outlined in gold by House Lukos could not have been any more ironic for her. A Warrior that has seen and shed rivers of blood borne into a house specializing in conjury and the healing trade, representing the purity and sanctity one's faith in blessed Halone should have, was enough to make the woman feel as if she deserved not her birthright.

Moreover, their blatant renouncement of her father, a lowborn with an unknown name nor a family of his own, was enough to anger her so much that she refused in-depth dealings with them, leaving it to her elder brother.

Not that he would have it any other way, for Stryder would not suffer to have his little sister take on more burdens than she already bears. This is in despite of the fact that his sister’s innate talent for the arcane was not unlike the scion of Lukos, their late mother, which made her the ideal heiress to the name in comparison to her fool of a brother that couldn’t weave aether to save his life.)

At this, the soldiers saw her eyes sparkle — as a stout leader in her own right encouraging them with utmost effectiveness — and felt courage welling within their breast.

“One last push, fighters of freedom and justice!” she rallied, raising her claymore towards the Garlean line before her. “Remember Carteneau! Remember Rhalgr’s Reach and Doma Castle! Remember the pain you have suffered and allow it to be your strength for this assault! I yet stand with you and I will not suffer to have them take what we have reclaimed!”

The soldiers released a roaring battle cry before marching forward, the effect of the Warrior’s words giving them the courage needed to continue on this path. Before she could rejoin the main host, she sensed Aymeric’s watching eyes and he continued watching her worriedly. Overshadowing it, however, was a hint of admiration and a single question slipped his lips — one she has been asked many times before.

“All the pain that you have experienced… how is it that you are still able to stand, unbreaking?”

Aria stared at him for a moment before a helpless smile passed her lips.

“Among the greatest forces on this star, man is wont to fall to fear quite easily. It can act as a cold mistress in the abyss, seeking to freeze you whole before engulfing your very core. Yet, as Haurchefant once told us, is there not a fire hot enough to reforge the broken blades within our hearts? For where there is fear, there is cowardice. Despite this, there is in equal parts courage, Aymeric. The courage to take from this abyss the strength we need to push onward and the wisdom to know that taking more will lead us to oblivion.”

Aria’s gaze darted to the sky, her expression growing forlorn. When she had her fill, she turned to Aymeric once more.

“I believe in our people, Aymeric. As you have always done and as I know you ever will. Have faith and it will carry you farther than you think.”

Before Aria could say a word more or Aymeric could respond in kind, a voice called out to the Warrior of Light — the one belonging to her attendant, Echoes, who was part of her squadron sent to spearhead through enemy lines as an irregular unit.

They nodded towards each other and as she was about to depart, Aria raised an arm and stretched it towards her love. Soon, he was surrounded by an aetherial shield that moved as he did, surrounding him in a blanket of stars and encompassing him in a certain kind of warmth that he feels when it comes to her.

“Have care, Aym,” she urged of him. “And no noble sacrifices — I would like to meet our children, after all.”

With a wink, Aria turned her back on the lord commander and sprinted off, leaving behind a blushing lord commander before the first commander reached him.

“My lord?” Lucia called, baffled he was left on his lonesome on the battlefield.

Aymeric smiled and shook his head. “‘Tis of no issue, Lucia. I must work twice as hard now.”

Though Lucia was confused, she didn’t question her lord and followed his lead. In the meanwhile, he felt the aether sifting around him like a warm hug by a hearth on a cold winter’s night. It was just like Aria to give him a boon, unbeknownst to the others so as to not mark indications of ‘favoritism’. It was just like her…

...this method of saying ‘I love you’ without saying the words outright.

---

notes:

*inspired by this comic

#ffxiv fanfiction #aymeric de borel #lucia goe junius #aria vitali writes #more of a vent than anything #thanks for bearing with me

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this-is-a-love-story-fleabag · 5 years

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Dial-a-priest (2/2)

A man slips his phone number into our favourite Fleabag’s back pocket, but it turns out to be a wrong number, connecting her directly to a priest. Chapter 2 of 2. Click here to read Chapter 1. Also on ao3.

"Is this the part where you ask me what I'm wearing?"

"What are you wearing?"

He looked down at himself. "Pyjamas."

"It's 7PM."

"They're comfy."

One night when he was just settling down with a cup of tea and another book, his phone rang.

"Hi," he said when he picked up.

"Hello, Father," said her voice at the other end of the line. English accent, a bit posh, wryly amused.

"You make voice calls? I thought you were a millennial."

"I'm old school. You're Irish."

"I know."

"I should have known. I was curious."

"Is this the part where you ask me what I'm wearing?"

"What are you wearing?"

He looked down at himself. "Pyjamas."

"It's 7PM."

"They're comfy."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm wearing?"

"OK, but we're not having phone sex."

"I'm wearing the world's least comfortable cocktail dress and about three rolls of tit tape."

"Do I want to know what tit tape is?"

"Probably not. I went to a bar again."

Interesting. "Why?"

"I don't know. The last time I talked to someone in a bar he clearly thought I was in dire need of the phone number of an Irish Catholic priest."

"What did you say to him?"

"I think I was probably charming. I usually am."

He chuckled. "You're not wrong. Did you have a good time?"

"No. Someone grabbed my arse and I left. Didn't even have a drink."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Usually I would have ended up going home with him. I didn't want that. I think I just wanted to... make a friend?"

"Do you have other friends? Family?"

"Not really. My sister lives in Finland half the time. I haven't talked to her in a long time. Do you have a sister?"

"No. Why haven't you talked to her?"

"She thinks I tried to shag her husband, which is patently ridiculous because her husband is loathsome."

The urge to give priestly advice was too difficult to overcome. "Why don't you try calling her? If it's been a while, she might be glad to hear from you."

"I guess. Do you have a brother?"

"Yes. Why does she think you tried to fuck her husband?"

"Are you close with your brother?"

He laughed. "No. You didn't answer my question."

"Why aren't you close with your brother?"

"Come on."

"I fucked my best friend's boyfriend and then she walked into traffic and that's why she's dead," she said in a rush. He could hear the wince in her voice.

"Fuck."

"So when I told my sister that her husband tried to kiss me on her birthday and he told her that it was the other way around, she chose to believe that slimy bastard instead of me."

He took a long moment to digest this new information before responding. "You're walking around with a lot of pain inside you, aren't you?" he said gently, his heart aching in sympathy.

"Yeah, but..."

"What?"

"I just..."

"What?"

"It's my fault," she said simply. "All of it, I caused it. That's why I'm trying... to be better. I don't want to do that any more."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

She huffed a laugh. "That's why they put rubbers on the end of pencils."

"I like that."

"You can have it for free. My next witticism will be priced on a sliding scale."

"You're funny."

"For the right price."

Unknown number: I texted my sister

Unknown number: we're going to have coffee

"I think I might be going crazy," he said without preamble when she picked up the phone.

"Well, you do have bats in the belfry."

"They're in the attic, and that's a bit of a sore spot at the moment, so fuck off."

"Why do you think you're going crazy?"

"OK so I was on a train."

"Yes?"

"We were delayed at East Croydon and I looked out the window."

"Sane so far, continue."

"There was a fucking fox! In the window! It was looking right at me! Nobody else seemed to notice it but I know I saw it."

"That's not outside the realms of possibility. There are a lot of foxes about."

He shuddered. "Don't remind me. But it was looking right at me. Right in my eyes."

"You're cute, why wouldn't it look at you?"

"We were there for half an hour and it didn't stop staring at me!"

"Why were you at East Croydon for half an hour?"

"Southern Rail."

"Ah, I take it back. Southern Rail? You are completely insane."

"Fuck you." He paused, backtracking a few sentences in the conversation. "Wait, I'm cute?"

"Goodnight, Father."

"Uh, goodnight then, I guess."

"Don't let the foxes bite."

"You don't need to tell me twice."

After a few weeks of this, he was ready to admit that theirs was the closest friendship he had.

She knew that he was really grateful for Pam's help but that he also found her annoying nearly all the time. She knew about his parents, and his brother, and his weird cousin who kept sending him conspiracy theories on Facebook. She knew about the puns he made in the parish newsletter, and she knew where he hid the G&Ts.

He knew about her dead best friend, and her family, and the way her guinea pig was kind of a jerk sometimes. He knew that she tended to call late at night or just after the lunch rush was over. He even looked up her café online (there weren't that many guinea pig-themed cafés in the world, it turned out) and it was only a few streets away.

Which was a total fucking disaster.

He was a priest, for fuck's sake. He'd made a vow to love only God and to love God's people as a father, and most certainly not to pin beautiful, witty, acerbic women to the nearest flat surface and kiss them until he can't breathe.

It was imperative that they never meet in person. He was careful not to tell her which church was his, never to mention local shops and restaurants. He very conscientiously avoided going within a mile of the café.

There was no way they were ever going to meet, and he'd nearly convinced himself that it was a good thing.

The priest was leafing through the hymnals to see which ones needed to be replaced and trying very hard not to think about his problems, when he noticed one of the Youthie Band loitering in the doorway.

"Hi Jake," he called. "Are you alright?"

"I forgot my bassoon," he said in a mournful tone. "My aunt is bringing it."

Strange kid, but probably harmless. "Oh, fun. How are your bassoon lessons going?"

Jake trained his attention on someone over the priest's shoulder, ignoring the question entirely.

"Where's Claire?" he asked plaintively.

"Hi, Jake," said a woman's voice, strangely familiar. "She didn't want to come with me because she thinks you're creepy."

"What?"

"I'm joking, she's at work."

The priest turned around to greet the new arrival (and possibly to stand up for Jake, although his creepiness was undeniable and probably deserved to be addressed), and his heart just about stopped. Standing before him was the physical manifestation of his ungodly desires made flesh, walking around as though his world wasn't about to explode.

"Here's your clarinet," she said, handing Jake the case.

"It's a bassoon," he protested.

"It's a birth control device."

"You must be Jake's aunt," said the priest, regaining the ability to speak.

"Step-aunt," she corrected, turning to him. She gave a little start when she made eye contact but other than that managed to maintain her composure. "Hello, Father," she said with a smirk, holding out her hand.

He shook it, noticing distantly that her slender hand had a firm grip. "So Claire's your sister?" he managed, drinking in the sight of her, even more lovely in reality, a walking temptation.

A complicated series of emotions flashed across her face, all of which he could actually decipher given all of their long conversations about her family situation - and isn't that weird? Being able to completely read someone when you're meeting them in person for the first time?

"Yeah, Claire's my sister."

Jake made a little squeaking sound on hearing the word "Claire", making the priest remember that he was still standing there.

"Do you have a rehearsal to get to, Jake?" he prompted gently.

Jake nodded and walked away without a word.

"OK, good talk," said the priest to Jake's retreating back. He turned back to her, suddenly nervous. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Uh, welcome to my church. Do you like tea?"

In answer, she gave him an incredulous look and made a bee-line for the third pew from the back of the church, bending over to retrieve the cache of G&Ts that he'd mentioned in passing the other day.

"I'd think we need something stronger than tea given the situation, don't you?" she said, throwing one to him.

He fumbled to catch the can and dropped it on the floor inelegantly with a few murmured curses.

"Now I think of it, I remember you mentioning that you were bad at sports," she said with an apologetic grimace.

He picked up the can and opened it gingerly, took a large and restorative swig, then ushered her into a side room for some privacy. They perched on rickety folding chairs opposite each other, and she stared into his eyes, studying him in a way that made him feel uncomfortably exposed.

"So you live ten minutes from my café," she stated flatly. He nodded. "Did you know this the whole time?"

He winced. "I figured it out a few weeks ago. I can't, I'm sorry, I didn't want to intrude," he lied. He had wanted to intrude, in so many ways.

She shrugged, amenably accepting his explanation. "I just assumed you lived in Ireland. I didn't know we still had Catholics here."

"We send a few over every year as a punishment for when you enslaved our whole country."

They laughed together, such an easy connection, and his fingers itched with the urge to grab her and kiss her.

"The photos didn't do you justice," she said, giving him a thorough and obvious once-over. The blood thrummed in his veins as his eyes drifted down her body in return.

He sucked in a breath and tried very hard to keep his cool.

"You're the single most beautiful human being I've ever seen, and the fact that you're in my church right now is ruining my fucking life," he blurted out.

Fuck.

She softened visibly and stood up, draining the rest of her drink. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. We can just talk on the phone." She was watching him with immense gentleness, seeing right through into his very soul. "I like talking to you. It's OK."

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I don't want to send you away, I just-" He stood up, rubbing his temples with one hand. "I like talking to you, too," he said softly, looking utterly lost.

She crossed the room and took his face in her hands, bringing their foreheads to rest together. "I'm glad I met you," she whispered, slipping her fingers to card through his hair. He leaned into the touch like a needy cat and let out a shuddering breath.

She pulled away to press a chaste kiss to his forehead, getting ready to leave, and something inside him snapped. He backed her up against the crumbling brick wall, and finally let himself taste the ruby-red lips that had been whispering in his ear for weeks. She made a pleased noise and kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

"Are you sure?" she asked as they broke for air.

"I'm sure," he panted, hiking up her legs to wrap around his waist, and let the life he'd built crash down around them.

#fleabag #dial-a-priest #my fics #phoebe waller-bridge #andrew scott

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0ld-fangirl-tings · 5 years

Text

Branded | Part III

Genre : ShownuMafia!AU, Female!Assassin, Shownu X FemaleReader, eventual fluff, eventual smut(?), ANGST

Warning: Violence (a lot of it), mentions of rape, murder, violence against women, a lot of abuse, scars (emotional and physical)

Word count : 1.5K

A killer through and through. You have gone your whole life being feared for who you were. You hated that you were a contract killer for Seoul’s underworld. You hated everything about the underworld though you thrived in it. All the syndicates wanted you, The Scarfaced Witch, on their side. You vowed to never wear a syndicate’s brand, but when your first love appears in the city again with a Syndicate of his own and an unknown agenda… You would be willing to cast aside anything for his sake.

Part III

“Hey! HEY!!” You feel something cold poking at your side. “Wake up!” You hear. Your body responds and springs up quickly to the side table to grab your backup gun. You blink the fuzzy vision from your eyes away. You try to get closer to Shownu but realize the side of his bed is empty. You eyes start to finally focus and see men with face masks in the room. They all have white X’s printed on the masks. You have seen these before, where have you seen these?

“Damn girl. You are feisty right outta bed. I wonder how you be in it?” One of the men say, you can’t pinpoint it due to the masks. The other men laugh and you smirk.

“Come closer sweetheart and find out. I’ll start by making you suck your own dick.” Its quiet at first but then the men laugh louder.

“I really would not put it past her, The Scarfaced Witch.” A voice says. You stand to your feet, gun still aimed.

“Where is he?” You say in the most menacing voice you can manage. The men are quiet. Everyone’s guns still cocked and ready. “IF YOU LAID EVEN A FUCKING FINGER ON HIM I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU!! WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!?” You scream at the top of your lungs. Your concern manifesting into intense rage.

You take steps towards the men and they step back. “Fucking answer me. Where is he? Who sent you? Seungri? How did you know he was here? How did you get in here?”

“I think it should be me who’s asking the questions.” You turn your head and feel cold metal of a gun barrel on your cheek. You purse your lips. “Drop it.” Shownu says and you throw the gun onto the bed. You lift your arms up and interlock your fingers behind your head.

“Bring her to the living room.” He says and two men nod. A man stands in front of you. He looks very muscular and has pretty eyes. You smile sweetly. Daring him silently to move closer so you can take his Uzi. “Be careful.” Shownu says. “I saw her bathe in a man’s blood last night and it looked like she enjoyed it.” You roll your eyes but the man takes a step back.

Shownu makes himself comfortable on your large gray sectional. The two men lead you to stand in front of him. A taller skinnier man motions towards the ground with his gun. You roll your eyes again and kneel down as instructed. You keep your eyes on Shownu. His bandage is off his face. It is swollen and rough looking. He got changed into a suit. How long had you slept?

“So I have no idea who you are but….” Shownu says. He nods at a man next to him and he starts to lay pictures down in front of you. They are surveillance pictures of you. You in your car outside of their estate. You following behind Shownu’s car. You taking Shownu from the club last night. Choi leaving your house. “But Miss Scarface, you seem to at VERY interested in me.”

You curse yourself for thinking you had your shit together. The camera angles were so obvious and it’s clear that you were so caught up with the man in front of you that you got sloppy. Your mouth hangs open as you start putting it all together. He knew. They knew. This whole ass time. They planned all this. You have the urge to cry and go on a rampage. Killing everyone breathing around you. You have been tricked. Played for a fool. You glance up at the man in front of you and he smirked. This was NOT the kid you knew.

You tilt your head back and cackle. You laugh so hard by yourself that you double over. Tears rolling down. “I’m gonna pee. Oh my. I’m gonna pee!!! Are you kidding? Oh my god. What the fuck have i been doing? All this was your plan?” You wipe tears from your eyes and look up to Shownu. “You…you got beat up on purpose? To catch me?! HAHAHA ha ha…"

The betrayal sets in and you get quiet. You stand and the smile vanishes from your face.

You turn and attempt to walk to your kitchen. The taller man tries to block you. You hit his Adam’s apple and hear him choke and fall to the ground. You start your morning routine. A bowl, milk, and cereal. You didn’t want to play anymore.

The men are frozen in your home. Not sure of what to do next. Shownu stands and walks towards you. Arm in a sling.

"You still are not gonna answer me and tell me who you are.” He asks from the other side of the large granite counter top.

“No. I’m not. Please leave and please take your men with you. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” You gather your mil carton from the fridge. Shownu scoffs. Once. Then twice. Then attempts to slam his hands on your counter top. You were ready this time. The moment he raised his hands you slid across the space and were in front of him. Hand gripping his throat placed precisely to inflict the most pain. You reach your other hand behind him and grab your back the gun he took from you. Your petite frame fit perfectly behind him. You look over his shoulder and point your gun at the surrounding men.

“Mm…you smell good.” You whisper into his ear. You take a good sniff of him. You have the urge to lick his thick neck but giggle the thought away. Shownu winces. You almost let go but remember what you are doing. You pull away from his neck and look into his eyes. The bright gleam makes you remember the kid you knew so long ago. You look at his lips and wonder how it would feel. He’s breathing heavily and if not for the circumstances you would really really like to take him right then and there. You push him back with too much force and he stumbles but once of his men catch him.

You cross your legs and tap the flock to your temple.

“You knew this whole time and didn’t do anything. I’m a bit curious about that. Why not nab me the very first time? Why be so dramatic and elaborate with this shit?” You smile brightly at Shownu. “Hmm?” You ask.

“I like the long con. I wanted to see who you were working for. But it turns out you don’t work for anyone and everyone all at the same time. You are suspicious as hell. And now that’s all I can think too, why didn’t i just end you the first time I noticed you lurking in that alley.” You looked at him still rubbing his throat. You shouldn’t have followed him, what did you think would happen. He had changed. This, again you thought to yourself, was not the kid you knew.

“Yeah.” You laughed. “I shouldn’t be surprised you are like this. Knowing who your pops was.” You say.

“What the fuck do you know about my father?” Shownu asks and lunges towards you only to be held back by one of his men.

Before you can stop it slips out. “Psh what would a little street urchin like me know?” You tilt your head and stare deeply into Shownu’s eyes. He gets quiet and stares back with furrowed brows. You jump off the counter and walk calmly up to him. As you get closer you realize how much Shownu towers over you. “Get the fuck outta my house.”

You walk past all the men both your middle fingers are high in the air. You have your back turned waiting for them to leave. Tears are stinging your eyes. You feel a presence behind you. A voice in your ear.

“I’m letting you go today as well, because you seemed to care about me enough to kill not one but two men and mend me up. I have no idea what you are doing or who you are but I promise to find out.” The husky whisper send shivers down your spine, but not in fear. You turn your head away and hear the shuffle of boots.

You sit down on the step leading into your living room and place your head into the crook of your arms. You let yourself take in what just happened. You found yourself betrayed but thoroughly entertained by the stunt Shownu pulled. This doesn’t make you want to know him less you admitted to yourself. You, The Scarfaced Witch, are again reunited with your first love and there was nothing you weren’t willing to do to protect him.

...cont'd

Part IV

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