#blind fury posting hours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nyctoaerah · 10 days

Note

Can u please post the other parts of Wish Granted?:( i can't open the links for some reasons and it says that I don't have the access to read it or something. I'm really hooked, but I'm sorry for bothering

-❤️‍🩹

WISH GRANTED: CH 2 & 3.

⋆♱⋆SYPNOSIS: In which, you, a workaholic grade A detective has been investigating about multiple murder cases, ends up wishing for other people to die and the same serial killer that you were looking for ends up granting it in the most twisted way possible.

⋆♱⋆WARNINGS: Gore, Mutilation, Mentions of Torture, Jack Being creepy.

⋆♱⋆PAIRINGS: Yandere! Eyeless Jack x Fem! Detective! Reader

⋆♱⋆PREV

⋆♱⋆NOTE: Hey pookie, idrk why it isn’t working for you because it’s working for me properly:( maybe you should restart your pc/phone? Or maybe it’s on your internet? I’ll try checking on the links later and revise them. But yeah, dw, it’s not a bother, i don’t mind it anyways. I’ll just post the other parts later<3.

Ps; Hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated!<3

⋆♱⋆MASTERLIST

AS SOON AS THOSE words reached your ears, a chill crept down your spine causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand at attention. Your heart dropped into your stomach, the thundering rhythm filling your ears drowning out all other sound. The blood seemed to freeze in your veins as icicles of dread rapidly spreads throughout your limbs, numbing you from head to toe. Your breathing became shallow and you were wide-eyed and unblinking, your pupils dilating until only a thin ring of iris remained,

That certainly wasn’t a news that you wanted to hear.

your grip on the phone faltered and it slipped from your trembling hands, crashing heavily onto the ground as your breath hitched in your throat.

��Your boyfriend and best friend were found dead.”

Those words kept repeating in your mind, the weight of those words bore down on you, sending an icy shiver cascading down your spine. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, leaving you unable to discern what you truly felt. Your breath caught in your throat, threatening to suffocate you as dizziness washed over you, threatening to pull you into unconsciousness.

‘But i was just with them a few hours ago...’

It hurts so much, it felt like your heart strings are about to break.

It was a tumultuous mix of fury, grief, betrayal, heartbreak, and a profound sense of self-pity that overwhelmed your senses. This day had already been marked by a series of unfortunate events, beginning with the painful revelation of your boyfriend’s infidelity and culminating in the relvelation that your closest confidant had been a traitor all along.

The news of their deaths hit like a tidal wave, crashing into the already shattered pieces of your heart.

You stumbled back, collapsing onto the closest piece of furniture that hadn’t been destroyed in your fit of rage. Your body shook with tremors, the weight of grief becoming almost too much to bear. Regret seeped into your veins, staining your conscience with a haunting question: Could you have prevented this?

As your mind raced, memories of your boyfriend and best friend flooded back. The joyous moments you had shared, the laughter, the support – all now overshadowed by the painful truth of their betrayal. How had you been so blind? Anger surged through you, sparked by the overwhelming hurt, as you cursed their names under your breath.

But amidst the anger, a profound sadness settled in, casting a bleak shadow over your soul. You mourned not only the loss of their lives but also the friendships and the love that was once so pure. The realization that you would never hear their voices again, never feel their warm embrace, tore through you like a serrated knife.

You needed to do something.

with trembling hands, you reluctantly reached for your phone, only to discover a crack on its screen. It must have happened when you dropped it. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. Your throat was dry and your eyes were bloodshot due to how much you've cried.

Using your shaky fingers, you unlocked your phone and wiped the moisture off the screen with your hands. As you opened it, a flood of notifications greeted you, including messages from Earl, Jhenicca, and others. Slowly, you navigated to your contacts and dialed the headquarters. They answered promptly, causing you to release a shaky breath.

“What happened?” you inquired, your voice raspy from the lack of moist and use.

“Lieutenant, how are you holding up?” came the concerned voice on the other end of the line.

You let out a heavy sigh. Of course, you were far from okay. The pain of heartbreak still lingered, threatening to tear your emotions apart. But you were determined not to let your personal turmoil interfere with your duty. Despite their betrayals, your love for your boyfriend and best friend remained, and you couldn't bear the thought of them meeting such a gruesome end.

“I’ll manage, don't worry about me,” you replied, trying to sound composed.

“Information please,”

You requested.

“We discovered Lieutenant Earl and Detective Jhenicca’s bodies near the Forest,” they informed you, their words hitting you like a blow.

“What do you mean at the forrest?”

you exclaimed, your voice tinged with shock as you processed the information.

“I was just with them at the station just a few hours ago, they would never go to a forrest.” you stated, your brows furrowing in confusion. The image of that encounter still haunted your mind, causing your voice to falter slightly.

“Jhenicca despises forests,” you muttered, your fingers tightly gripping your phone. The situation was becoming more puzzling by the minute.

“That’s the very mystery we’re trying to unravel, Lieutenant,” they explained. “That’s why headquarters is requesting your presence.”

You let out a snort.

Of course, they would want you there.

As one of the last people to see them, you were likely the prime suspect in their disappearance.

“Interrogation,” you stated, weariness evident in your voice.

“Yes, Lieutenant, they want to interrogate you,” they replied.

You couldn't help but release a heavy sigh, feeling drained.

“I’ll make my way there later,” you mumbled, the exhaustion weighing on your words.

“How did they... die?”

You asked slowly.

“We believed that the cause of death is by blood loss.”

“They got mutilated, all of their fingers in both hands and feet was removed, and they were skinned alive, moreover, their bodies were also covered in honey and other things and bees were swarming over them, and so does other bugs, that were probably eating them slowly.”

The image of their mutilated and dismembered corpses sent a shiver down your spine.

Torture.

“So they got tortured first before dying then...”

You mumbled, realizing that they got a painful death and it is indeed a murder.

“We believe so,”

You let out a sigh.

“Have their bodies been taken for autopsy?” you managed to ask, your fingers involuntarily curling up in distress.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” the voice on the other end confirmed.

“Forensics are currently examining the bodies at the morgue. We’ll let you know as soon as we have any updates.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It was essential to stay focused and maintain your composure despite the heart-wrenching news. These investigations required a clear mind, and your team relied on you for guidance.

“Thank you,” you replied.

“Please keep me informed of any new findings.”

“We will,”

they assured you.

“And remember, you aren’t alone in this. We’re here for you, Lieutenant.”

You smiled a little, even though they couldn’t see you, Their support was essential, but there was still a part of you that felt isolated, grappling with the weight of your emotions. You had loved and trusted both Earl and Jhenicca, and their betrayal and death had shattered your world.

As you hung up the phone, you closed your eyes, trying to push away the painful memories and focus on the tasks ahead. The investigation couldn’t wait, and justice needed to be served.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, you felt a wave of tension wash over you, it felt as if someone is watching you right now.

Now that you weren’t bawling your eyes out and not having a breakdown anymore, you noticed this strangeness.

Your brows creased as you opened your eyes and scanned your surroundings, checking left and right for any signs of an intruder.

But there was no one in sight. It had been three long months since you first sensed the eerie feeling of being watched, but the demands of work and the constant presence of either Earl or Jhenicca by your side had distracted you from paying it much attention. However, now that you found yourself alone, the unsettling sensation began to gnaw at your thoughts.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your window slightly ajar. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you struggled to recall if you had ever opened it. Opening the window was not a regular occurrence for you; in fact, you rarely ever did.

“I don’t recall opening my window,” you muttered to yourself, as you stood up, wobbling a bit as you walked towards the window to investigate.

but before you could investigate further, a sharp pain shot through your foot. You looked down to find the cause, only to see an assortment of glass shards scattered across the floor—probably from the vases and other things you had threw on the ground. You must have accidentally stepped on the broken glass, and warm blood began to trickle from the wound.

This really is such a bad day.

Suppressing a curse, you quickly hobbled over to your bathroom to tend to the injury, As you made your way towards the bathroom, an overpowering stench assaulted your senses. It was an amalgamation of metallic notes, mingled with a sickeningly familiar odor reminiscent of raw flesh, like the scent that lingers at a butcher shop. It was a scent you had encountered many times before, while investigating crime scenes. But the difference is, it wasn’t a crime scene. It was your own bathroom.

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you cautiously pushed open the door, the repulsive smell growing even stronger.

At first glance, everything appeared normal. But when your eyes traveled upwards, a blood-curdling scream escaped your lips.

Multiple human fingers were nailed and plastered in the walls like some sort of furniture, both fingers from the hands and toes, you can see the bones under them as blood dripped from them.

they were forming a word, three fingers were on a shape of the letter ‘W’, one for the letter ‘I’, five for the letter ‘S’, Three for the letter ‘H’, five for the letter ‘G’, five for the letter ‘R’, six for the letter ‘A’ and ‘N’ Two for ‘T’, four for ‘E’, and with the last letter being ‘D’, which had three fingers on them. 37 fingers, were nailed in your walls, with the words being....

𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃.

...

You were utterly shocked, repulsed, scared, evident from the way your eyes were protruding out of their sockets.

You instinctively recoiled by taking a swift step backwards while simultaneously covering your mouth with your hand in disbelief. The intensity of the sight before you was so overwhelming that your stomach twisted and turned, disturbed by both the visual and olfactory aspects of the situation.

Your gaze shifted anxiously from each finger that protruded from the walls, their bloodied presence revealing the exposed phalangeal bones, their hues tainted by the crimson fluid. Overwhelmed with revulsion, your head whirled in a nauseating manner, unable to tolerate the repugnance before you.

As the sensation of vomit surged uncontrollably, you swiftly clasped your abdomen, succumbing to its intensity and disgorging the contents of your stomach.

As you expelled the contents of your stomach, the regurgitated food landed repulsively on the ground. Simultaneously, you struggled to catch your breath, your throat and esophagus ablaze from the corrosive stomach acid that accompanied the vomiting. Overwhelmed by a burning sensation, you instinctively clutched at your chest in despair, desperately gasping for air.

This reaction was unprecedented, as these circumstances were nothing compared to the gruesome crime scenes you had encountered before. However, the sight that now haunted you was beyond horrifying—The scenes on the crime scene might be more brutal and horrifying in the perspective of others, but fuck, this was more horrifying in your point of view.

Fingers were grotesquely displayed upon your walls, gruesomely nailed in place. Both severed fingers from hands and feet were arranged in this macabre exhibit, leaving you utterly revolted.

As you breathed heavily, your lungs felt burdened and your chest throbbed painfully. Gradually lifting your gaze, saliva slowly trickled from your mouth, intermingled with traces of vomit that had inadvertently stained your clothes. The previous cut on your foot, which once caused you considerable discomfort, seemed inconsequential compared to the searing pain originating from your bruised esophagus.

As you carefully observed the fingers, There was a significant change in the size of your pupils—It shrunk down in shock. Some of the fingers had an unmistakable feminine appearance, while others displayed a more masculine quality. The sight of these fingers caused a sharp, involuntary reflex as you instinctively averted your eyes, overwhelmed by a sensation that made you cringe in discomfort—You felt as if you were going to vomit once again.

“Come on, breathe, [Name]...”

You told yourself.

The offensive stench of severed fingers combined with the repugnant odor of your vomit further intensified your disgust, while your chest continued to burn fiercely.

“Calm the fuck down, [Name].. calm down... breathe..”

You urged yourself to regain composure, but despite your efforts, you couldn’t manage to achieve it. The intensity of your emotions caused an overwhelming surge of hot tears that pooled in your mouth, leaving you surprised that you still had the capacity to cry given the torrent of tears you had shed upon discovering your boyfriend’s infidelity.

The bitter taste of regurgitated stomach acid lingered in your throat, a distressing reminder of the moment when you couldn’t contain the contents of your stomach any longer, resulting in a forceful expulsion and a fiery sensation in your esophagus.

Overwhelmed by despair, you found yourself clutching at your hair, desperately digging your nails into your scalp as you pulled at your [H/c] colored tresses, hoping that this agonizing reality would dissolve into a mere figment of your imagination or a horrendous nightmare.

Already enduring a dreadful day, this traumatic scene shattered your fragile emotional state, sending waves of anguish through every fiber of your being, making you fear that you might lose consciousness.

With each successive backward step, your cheeks were drenched in a seemingly endless stream of briny tears, as if the act of retreating physically symbolized your desire to distance yourself from the emotional turmoil consuming you.

With trembling and unsteady hands, you hastily reached into your pockets and frantically retrieved your phone.

It almost slipped from your shaky fingers, but you managed to tighten your grip on it. Filled with fear, you immediately dialed the number for your department, desperate to share the terrifying news that had just unfolded before your eyes. The sheer terror coursing through your veins made it difficult to steady your voice as you trembled with every word you spoke.

“Please, please, pick up!”

You couldn’t comprehend how these gruesome objects could have appeared in your fucking bathroom without your knowledge. Fingers, bloodied and gruesome, were inexplicably plastered on your wall, mocking you with a message that sent shivers down your spine. “Wish granted” it read, like a sick joke or a cruel twist of fate—What kind of sick psycho would do that?

You are in danger.

Deep down, you desperately hoped that it was all just an elaborate prank, but the harsh reality crept in as you realized the horrifying truth. This was real. The sight of the bones protruding from the severed fingers, the nauseating smell that permeated the air; it was all too real to fucking deny. You were in danger. Someone broke into your house and placed those nasty things, you will probably be the next victim— no, no, you shouldn’t think like that, you needed to fucking calm down. But you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Pick the fuck up, come on, come on, please, please!!”Your voice cracked with desperation as you urged the recipient of the call to answer. After what felt like an eternity, they finally picked up on the other end.

“Fuck, fuck...”

You breathed out, the relief that washed over you was drowned out by the urgency in your voice as you struggled to convey the gravity of the situation.

“I need help, fuck, fuck, please... i need it asap!” Your words were slurred and rushed, with your fear causing you to stumble over your sentences, barely able to articulate your pleas.

“lieutenant? What’s wrong? You seemed to be panicking.”

“Come here, please, please, come here as soon as possible! I’m begging you!” Your voice quivered with a mix of terror and desperation as you practically wailed into the phone. The overwhelming sense of danger that loomed over you threatened to consume your every thought, leaving you trembling in its wake.

“Lieutenant [Name], calm down please, i cannot understand you, breathe lieutenant.”

The person on the other end of the line tried to calm you down, struggling to understand your panicked state.

“No! P-please! I beg you! I-I’m in danger! I need help, ASAP!” You cried out, your voice cracking under the weight of the fear that gripped you. Gathering whatever courage you had left, you knew you had to escape the horrors that surrounded you. Without hesitation, you dashed towards the door, paying no mind to the disarray of your appearance. Your hair was wild and disheveled from the frantic tugging and pulling, while your clothes were stained with the remnants of your own vomit. You didn’t even bother to slip on your shoes, desperate to flee as fast as possible, clutching onto your phone as if it were your only lifeline.

“I-i’m in danger, s-someone just fucking— blood, blood everywhere!”

You shouted frantically, your words tumbling out in a rush. The sight of disembodied fingers had sent you into a state of panic and fear. As you hurriedly fled the scene, your foot unintentionally landed on the broken shards of the road, causing searing pain to shoot through your body. Despite the agony, you dared not glance back towards your dwelling, consumed by the urgency of escape. Each breath you took was labored and heavy while physical exertion and emotional turmoil that coursed within your veins.

“Lieutenant, please take a moment to catch your breath,” the concerned voice from the other end of the line implored—you were talking too fast after all and your breaths came in ragged gasps.

The person on the call was genuinely worried about your well-being, but the sheer intensity and speed of your words made it challenging for them to grasp the full extent of your distress. What did you truly mean by ‘fingers’? The mention of that word stirred memories within them, reminiscent of the horrifying ordeal your boyfriend and best friend had endured just hours before. Both of them had suffered the gruesome fate of having their fingers, hands, and feet forcibly severed. And now, here you were, frantically babbling about fingers and succumbing to panic. Your rapid-fire speech only served to further hinder comprehension.

“Lieutenant, please try to compose yourself,” the voice urged, attempting to soothe your frenzied state once more. This behavior was uncharacteristic of you, as you were never one to succumb to panic easily, unless something truly devastating had befallen you.

Between sobs, you managed to utter,

“Fingers on my walls, blood... blood was everywhere.” The words trembled with anguish and terror as you continued to run, tears streaming down your face. The sight that had confronted you was undoubtedly traumatizing, imprinted in your mind like a horrifying image that refused to fade.

“And i fucking know who those fucking fingers belong to!” you suddenly declared,

“They’re from Earl and Jhenicca!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chuckling quietly to himself, Jack discreetly pressed the play button on his phone once again, the soft melody of the recorder filling his ears through the earphones he wore. The recording, which captured your horrified scream upon discovering his little surprise gift for you, played on repeat as he leaned against the walls of your bedroom.

The sound of your screams, like a symphony to his ears, resonated deeply within him. As he listened intently, tapping his gloved hand against his masked face, he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that you wouldn’t get the chance to witness the ‘gift’ he had carefully prepared for you in your bedroom.

Unbeknownst to you, while you were having your break down, he had been concealed within your closet all this time, meticulously recording each moment of your suffering.

Every cry and retching sound had become music to his ears, fueling his sadistic pleasure. As was his usual routine when stalking you, he overheard your emotional breakdown while you were alone in your car, expressing a fervent wish for your unfaithful boyfriend and treacherous best friend to suffer a painful demise. And so, he decided to grant your fucking wish!

In his twisted mind, he saw himself as doing you a favor by eliminating the people who had caused you pain— They deserved nothing but torture and pain upon hurting you and he couldn’t help but wonder how that pathetic excuse of a man managed to pull someone like you.

Fuck, you were just so cute when you were wailing that he couldn’t help but want to hear that pretty cries of yours more, and so he killed your boyfriend and bestfriend to add more pain and make you more vulnerable, break you apart. And he killed your beloved bestfriend and boyfriend for you, after all, that’s what you wanted, right? right? right? You wanted this. You wished for this.

He deserves to be praised for doing such a great job in making you mentally unstable.

You provided him great amusement. as always in the past, you would display intense effort in attempting to identify the perpetrator and obtain even the slightest hint. Your unwavering determination, firm resolve, and intellectual capabilities were captivating, drawing him towards you.

For him, it was particularly enjoyable to unravel the complexities of someone as resilient as yourself, and break that fucking adamant nature of you, unlike certain shy timid schoolgirls who become frightened merely at the sight of blood.

He sought amusement and you were the sole individual capable of providing it to him without inducing him in boredom.

Your breakdown both surprised and amused him greatly, providing him with a sense of power over your vulnerable state. The scent of your blood, when your feet were cut on broken glass, wafted into his nostrils, providing an intoxicating allure that seemed almost heavenly to him.

And it made him wonder about how you tastes like.

#ᯓ★Aerah’s Works!#dark yandere #yandere x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere #yandere eyeless jack #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #eyeless jack smut #yandere EJ #yandere creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #EJ creepypasta

36 notes · View notes

abluehappyface · 11 months

Text

Typing a touhou related thing here but I'm not tagging it because idk how to feel about it. This is like a weird au involving HecaJun but Wrong™ I guess. If you personally like it and tag it that's on you, but I don't know if this counts as "good to post" with touhou tags so eh.

Haunted

Breathe

Just breathe

But quietly of course

You don't want her to hear you.

...

Hecatia didn't know what had gotten into Junko, but she's angry, angrier than usual, which is really saying something. She's so angry that she's been quite literally been blinded by her fury, unable to see past the purple fox tailed light waves flowing from her eyes. Along with that, for some reason Hecatia couldn't shoot bullets. She was being chased by Junko in a hyper-aggitated state, and she had NO way to defend herself!

Her heart felt like it was going to explode from how bad her chest hurt. How long had she been running? For some reason she couldn't float either, just making it easier for Junko to try and catch her. She was breathing so heavily, yet there was never enough air. Between the running away and the sheer panic she felt, her whole body felt pained, suffocated, and weak. All of it felt sickening.

She didn't even know WHY Junko was chasing her, but that just made it scarier. Here she was, chasing you while fully furious, and she didn't know why or how to fix it. Talking to her wouldn't work, she already tried that. Did this involve Chang'e or something!? No, that didn't make sense, she would be chasing Chang'e if that were the case.

She didn't know where she was either. This place felt familiar, but she just couldn't figure out how. All she knew is that she needed to keep running so that Junko couldn't get her. The overbearing heat in this place would've caused her to stop a long time ago had she not been running on pure panic. All that mattered now was getting to that something she knew was there.

She was tripping over herself now, her body not being able to keep up anymore, it must've been hours at this point. No matter how many times she fell she HAD to get up again. She could feel Junko getting closer and closer, just mere seconds from getting too close. She knew she couldn't keep this up for much longer, but her brain just refused to let up. Everything was getting hazy now.

Dizziness was setting in and she wasn't running in a straight line anymore. The vision around the edges of her eyes were going dark. The pain was beginning to hurt too much. She couldn't take it. She fell down onto the surprisingly hot ground beneath her.

She knew Junko was slowly creeping towards her. She began with a slightly muffled laugh, her deep voice echoing all around this familiar yet dangerous place. She wanted to scream, to tell her not to hurt her, but all that came out were sharp, gasping breaths as she broke down into a frenzy of panicked tears. What was Junko going to do to her!? Junko began by grabbing her by the shoulders, lifting her off the ground, and started shaking Hecatia back and forth, laughing as she cried and squirmed as hard as she could.

...

"LADY HECATIA WAKE UP!"

Clownpiece was shaking Hecatia back and forth by the shoulders trying to get her to snap out of... whatever THIS was. At this point Hecatia was an unhealthy shade of pale, trembling REALLY hard, murmuring about something, breathing too hard, and she was really REALLY scared. It was as if Lady Hecatia was supposed to be waking up from a nightmare, but just couldn't wake up. All Clownpiece could do was keep trying to wake her, even if it felt pointless. Shaking her didn't seem to work either. Junko was in the other room dialing the number for Eientei. She was startled awake when she heard Hecatia crying, seemingly panicked. No matter how many times she tried to wake her up, she just couldn't, and now it's gotten worse. She wasn't so pale before, nor was she trembling like that, it looked like she could barely breathe! She began explaining the situation to Eirin on the other line. After that, all she could do was wait for the emergency services to show up. Was this a curse!? Something WORSE!? Junko was worried, but also angry, but not in her usual way. No, Junko was angry because of what was happening to Hecatia. It had nothing to do with Chang'e this time, and if it did she'd KILL her.

#bluey's writing #bluey's random stuff #bluey's shenanigans #bluey's hyperfixations #bluey's nonsense #bluey's miscellaneous posts #tw just in case #abluehappyface

30 notes · View notes

andinthedarknessbindthem · 1 year

Text

Dwalin X Reader - Arguement

This is based on a 'Sickeningly Sweet Relationship Bingo Card' that I found and forgot to save. So if I find that post, I'll add it here!

I'm a bit rusty since I haven't written since 2019, so please feel free to send requests or comments on anything I need to change! Thank you and much love! <3

✿ Words: 1,037

✿ Themes: Kinda(?) Angst, Fluff

✿ Prompt: From bickering to makeouts

✿ Posted: 2/12/23

Something had been off with Dwalin the last few days and you had yet to find out why. He first had asked you to find him a sack. When you questioned him, he said something about needing to tote some things around. Then he asked you to pull out his winter cloak, saying it was for the upcoming cold season. Then on top of that, you could hear him late at night, sharpening his once dusty axe’s. He was up to something.

You tried and tried again to approach him about the subject, but he just kissed your forehead gently and told you the same excuses.

That same morning, he had asked you to back his bag for a few-day hunting trip that he hurriedly planned in a few days. Questioning him again, Dwalin dipped down and placed a loving kiss on your lips and left you standing in the doorway. You dumbly obliged to his wishes and reluctantly let him go through the door.

You packed up his bag with dried meats, loaves of bread, and other goods. Once you were finished, you decided to make use of the rest of your day and head to the markets. Maybe you could persuade him with his favorite dinner? You scoured the stalls for hours, trying to find the key ingredients. You had spent quite the coin at the end of the day, but you wanted to make Dwalin something special to boost his mood and maybe convince him to tell you what was happening.

Once you arrived home from the markets though, your heart dropped. His bag and axes were gone, along with a few other key items. You threw your basket on the ground and slammed the door behind you, quickly running towards the gate leading out of town.

You nearly tripped as you ran through the busy part of the settlements to find your betrothed. Your brain was running wild with many conflicting thoughts of anger and fear.

How long had he been gone? Too long. He’s probably too far by now.

Maybe he’s just going hunting? With his axes? No.

Did he plan on leaving you? He wouldn’t! He couldn’t.

Once I find him I’m going to tear him a new one.

By the good grace of Mahal, you finally caught him as he was just passing through the gates to leave.

Rage blinded you as you shoved his shoulder to get his attention. He didn’t even falter, “When were you going to tell me you were leaving? Once you came back?” Your voice was filled with venom, but there was a small shake of despair to your words.

His body did a half-turn in your direction, a sorrowful but stern look on his face as he gazed over everything but your own eyes. He turned back towards the forest with a shake of his head and continued walking. “Aye, go back home. This is no business of a woman.” His tone was calm but commanding.

You blinked a few times, your heart felt frozen with how cold he was acting toward you. "You thick-headed oaf! Don't you dare talk to me that way! I know this isn’t because of me being a woman." You hissed, following after him.

“I can’t keep ye safe outside of these walls, (Y/N).” He began, slowing his walk to a complete stop. He still wouldn’t face you, “I cannot promise yer protection.”

“I am not useless, Dwalin. I can help! You know I can handle myself in a fight!” Your voice betrayed you, you couldn’t help as the sadness overpowered your fury.

“No!” He puffed out his chest as he turned towards you now. “You will not follow me.” He demanded. If you hadn’t known Dwalin, you probably would have backed down there. But you knew him well, too well.

“Kakhafu durh 'umalul sakh mi mê!” You seethed the words through your teeth. He let out a large sarcastic laugh at you. (The back side of a troll is a more pleasing sight than you.)

“Like yer one to talk!” Dwalin scoffed and crossed his arms, eyes blazing down at you. ”Me asnân tada Mahal duhû kansu tah.” (You are proof that Mahal has a sense of humor.)

You took a step up to him now. “Sigin'adadmêzu kasat gairurukhs.” You said in a matter-of-fact tone. To the outside eye, it would almost seem as though you both were about to kill each other. But no one dared to step in if they saw you both. (Your grandfather was a goblin.)

He lowered his arms to his sides again, taking the last step between the both of you and pressing your chests together. Challenging him, you continued to glare into his eyes as he glowered down at you. “Adadmêzu duhû bintarg.” A hint of a smirk was dancing on his lips now. (Your father has no beard.)

As you went to open your mouth for another rebuttal, his hands grasped the sides of your face pulling your lips together in a rough heated kiss. The kind of kiss where your teeth clashed together and lips grew numb. You growled in surprise, but it wasn’t completely unwelcome. His lips were rough and calculated, his mustache tickling your cheeks and jaw. Your once rigid body slowly became limp in his arms as your lips melted together. Your teeth clashing simmered down to a soft interlocking of your lips. His hands slid down to your waist, hoisting you up as your legs hooked on his hips. You dragged your fingers into his beard, giving him a light tug. As you finally pulled away, he softly bit onto your bottom lip. Your rage was no longer as he held you so lovingly in his arms.

You unfurled your fingers from his beard, instead bringing your hands ups to caress his cheeks. "I'm going." You said in a much softer tone, thumbs rubbing in soothing lines. You searched his eyes for any sign of disappointment, but he just let out a muted sigh and held you closer.

"If you must," He huffed in agreement before adding a quick, “But if I say hide ye will!” You smiled and pressed your forehead to his.

#dwalin #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #lotr #lord of the rings #dwalin x reader

112 notes · View notes

two-raccoons-in-a-trench-coat · 3 months

Text

I forgot to post my other Bleach fic. So here, enjoy.

Summary: Gin is attacked and Aizen takes that personally. Shinji would just like to know if adoption is still on the table.

-----

It is well past midnight when only the guards are awake walking their rounds when Aizen’s door shakily slides open, followed by quiet if trembling footsteps.

Gin. Aizen smiles to himself, still pretending to sleep, though he doesn’t doubt for a moment that the boy knows he’s awake. Gin is, after all, wonderfully clever.

But Gin doesn’t take another step towards him and that’s when Aizen hears it—a stuttering hiccup in the boys breathing that almost sounds like a sob.

Aizen frowns and something eerily close to concern starts to rise in his chest. He sits up, slowly, no need to frighten Gin any more than he already is. But Gin still startles—a minute thing, barely even a flinch, but its enough to tell Aizen that whatever spooked his youngest follower would be enough to send any other shinigami running away in tears.

“Gin,” it is easy speak softly, gently, “What’s wrong?” He doesn’t mention the late hour. Gin is a firm night owl—Aizen can’t count the number of times he’s found the boy curled up in the high branches of their courtyards trees, staring into the stars.

It has been decades since Aizen saw anything but that infuriating corpse sitting on the throne of heaven every time he looked at the sky. It took effort to blind himself and see the sky instead. An effort he rarely bothered with.

Gin’s smile stretches thin and Aizen sees the lie coming before the boy opens his mouth. He cuts off the attempt, “The truth Gin, if you please.”

“I…” the boy falters, and for the first time his fixed smile falls and something in Aizen’s chest twists.

He looks the boy over and for the first time since he entered Aizen notices how disheveled he is. There are leaves and dirt in the boy’s hair, but it’s the bruises that has Aizen’s breath catching. Gin is in a simple sleeping yukata, loose and breathable, coming up to his knees and there on his thighs are darkening bruises in the shape of a hand.

Aizen knows the hot swell of anger well—he feels it stir whenever he looks up at the heavens—but this is a different kind of anger, there is no cunning here only a deep visceral need to tear whoever did this to Gin apart with his bare hands until the only thing left of the man was a broken and mutilated pulp.

It takes every ounce of his considerable self-restraint to keep his reiatsu under control.

He gets to his feet and feels another flare of anger when Gin twitches at his approach (he’s going to destroy the man’s zanpakto just for that alone—Kyoka Suigetsu sings viciously in agreement). He’s careful not to box him in, kneeling down so he isn’t towering over the boy.

“Gin. What happened?” The softness in his voice can’t quite hide the hard edge of his anger and though it isn’t directed at him, Gin still flinches.

“I—I gutted ‘em,” Gin whispers, his voice shaking. “I gutted ‘em, but he wasn’t alone, an’ I was asleep, an’ he wasn’t alone, he wasn’t—”

Some deep, ancient, animal instinct has Aizen pulling Gin into his arms with a gentleness that not even he knew he possessed even as his anger howled, seething in his belly like magma just waiting to erupt.

Gin freezes for only a second at the unexpected embrace before collapsing into it, burying his face in Aizen’s chest, the last vestiges of his pride draining away as his thin shoulders shake with silent tears.

And Aizen—his heart has never burned like this before, and this seething weight in his stomach hurts at the sight of Gin’s tears—that this is a pain he cannot heal with the soft glow of kido. It’s infuriating.

His cold, calculated anger towards the farce of the Soul King is nothing compared to the rage burning through him now. If he had even a fraction of less control over his reiatsu the weight of his fury would’ve cracked the grounds of Squad Five’s Division in two (not even mentioning the countless shinigami that would’ve died beneath the weight of it).

Aizen could just imagine Captain Hirako’s reaction to such a thing—no, he cuts himself off, his little game of cat and mouse with Captain Hirako can wait. His plans can wait. (His shift in priorities comes so suddenly and swiftly, and with such force that it almost makes him pause, but then Gin whimpers in his arms and the thought is lost).

He pulls Gin more securely in his arms as he slowly gets to his feet, and Gin rather than protesting, just holds onto him tighter. He ignores the swell of warmth rising in his heart, so different than the acid burn of anger that still sits low in his belly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He waits for Gin to nod before he moves to the bathroom (and never has he been more thankful that captains and lieutenants get their own personal bathrooms that are attached to their quarters).

Gin trembles as Aizen wipes him down as gently as he can with a practiced and very fake calm that even Captain Hirako would see through because the bruises beneath Gin’s yukata were already turning a deep, nasty purple and there were gouges, bleeding and open made by fingernails forcing him in place.

Aizen fought to control himself, to not shunpo out of this bathroom and find these men—these monsters—and destroy their very souls. And he would make it hurt.

But he can’t leave Gin, not like this. Not hunched in on himself looking scared and ashamed, like he was the one who had done something wrong.

“I…I managed ta get away before…before they,” Gin shudders, crossing his legs defensively, “I got away.”

The relief that pours through him abates the feral edge of his anger by a fraction, just enough for him to push the feeling down and make the calmness he’s trying to exude appear more natural.

“Thank goodness.” The words come out unfiltered and the sincerity of his relief (the simple fact that he said them without a mask of any kind) shocks the both of them.

Gin tries to smile, but he just looks like he’s trying not to cry. “I…it won’t happen again. I ain’t gonna be caught like that again.”

Aizen frowns. Anyone else would take those words at face value—a vow to protect themselves, to become stronger so they could protect themselves—but Aizen is not just anyone.

And Gin, better than most, better than even Kaname, seems to see him—truly see him in a way no one ever has.

So Gin knows that Aizen has no time for those who need protecting, who cannot fight with their own strength. And if it was anyone else he’d be right.

But Gin was different. From the first moment he saw the child standing above their dead Third Seat with a smile on his face and blood still dripping from his sword Aizen had known that Gin was different.

And he had never been able to treat Gin with the same reserved polite menace that he treated the rest of his subordinates with. He indulged Gin, allowed him lenience’s that would’ve gotten anyone else a swift and terrifying scolding—the kind that made a single, pointed look make them break out in a cold sweat.

And when Gin was on the battlefield taking out hollows with a sharp smile and a terrifying ease, Aizen was always there in the background, watching the carnage with an indulgent smile. But he was there, ever watchful as the child (so small, so terrifyingly breakable) darts around the thrashing limbs of the enraged hollows like he’s playing a game of tag with them.

It is only now that Aizen realizes that he wasn’t watching Gin for the sake of learning how best to utilize him, no, he was there to make sure nothing happened to him. It seems that unbeknownst to him, Gin had somehow awakened a long, dormant protective instinct that Aizen had never felt from himself before.

It was a jarring realization, but looking at Gin who was still staring up at him trying to grin through his uncertainty, Aizen knew that fighting this feeling would be more than futile, it would be akin to self-sabotage.

(And from the way Kyoka Suigetsu has wrapped herself around Shinso with all her sharp edges carefully tucked away, he knows his zanpakto would throw a vicious fit if he tried to distance himself now).

No matter, he thinks to himself. His strength, even without the power of Kyoka Suigetsu, already outstrips more than half the captains in the Gotei 13, including his own. And he will only grow stronger, as will Gin. He will ensure it.

But until then I will make sure that no one ever touches you again.

“Gin, I am not upset with you. I am…upset,” furious, incandescent with rage, brimming with killing intent, “that you got hurt. That you were attacked in a place that you believed to be safe.”

Gin’s shaky smile falters, confusion scrunching his brows.

Aizen knows better than to be offended by Gin’s disbelief. Even before he joined Aizen, before he became a shinigami, it was apparent that he lived in one of the lower districts of the Rukongai where alliances were only honored if you were strong enough to pull your weight.

And in Gin’s eyes, despite being a child, despite only coming up to most peoples’ waists, he had failed. He had gutted one of his attackers, but the others still lived and in his haste to escape the brutality they threatened to inflict, he had fled instead of killing them.

And to a child born in the wild savagery of the deep Rukongai that could only been seen as a failure because you risk leading the threat back to the group. And that, in Gin’s limited knowledge, is unforgivable.

He sets a careful hand on Gin’s head and smiles (genuinely, with real warmth) when he doesn’t flinch; the unconscious display of trust has his reiatsu thrumming happily.

“But…” Gin trails off, his slanted eyes falling to the finger-shaped bruises marring the milky-white of his thighs.

“The only ones I hold at fault are the men who did this to you, Gin,” and here his voice turns cold and so very dangerous, “and believe me, they will pay for it.”

Gin looks at him like he wants to believe him, but more than that he just looks tired. The rigid anger in Aizen’s heart softens in the face of it.

“Come,” he says gently, lifting Gin into his arms. “Let’s find you something to wear and go to sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”

He will make them better in the morning.

Gin’s small hands tighten on his haori as he tucks his head into Aizen’s shoulder and says nothing, but the tension crawling through his small body speaks volumes to his doubt. And Aizen knows that there is nothing he can say to make Gin believe him—to trust that Aizen can make this better. Aizen knows that his life up till now, has never allowed for such luxuries.

That’s fine, Aizen thinks, stroking a gentle hand down his back, actions speak louder after all.

Morning comes with Captain Hirako banging on his door, startling Gin awake with a violent twitch that makes Aizen want to jab the man’s face in with Kyoka Suigetsu’s hilt; the poor boy had barely gotten two hours’ worth of sleep as he kept being jerked awake by nightmares. And now this.

I’m going to replace all your haircare products with dish soap, he promises maliciously as he slips out of bed, and re-tucks Gin in, in the same move.

He ignores the confused and slightly offended look Gin shoots him, even as the boy snuggles back into his blankets only a moment later.

But before Aizen could reach his door, Hirako slides it open and steps inside with a grim look only to freeze at the sight of Gin in his bed.

Ah, Aizen thinks with some amusement, this does look rather bad, doesn’t it?

“Captain Hirako,” he pitches his voice in a mocking veneer of politeness, “what can I do for you so early in the morning?”

But Hirako doesn’t answer him, his eyes fixed on Gin with a look of slow-dawning horror on his face (the same kind Aizen had experienced last night).

(And Gin, despite his genius, is still very much a child and watches the two adults with a confused ignorance because he doesn’t understand what the image of him sitting in Aizen’s bed and wearing an oversized yukata that is now pooling at his waist, could be construed as—with his bruises now more visible and livid in the light of day).

Hirako’s eyes swing back to Aizen, a cold rage flickering in his eyes that has his reiatsu bristling like a monster baring its teeth. Aizen stares back, unmoved.

“Gin, come here. Now.” Hirako bites out the order, his eyes never leaving Aizen.

But Gin doesn’t move and Aizen feels a fissure of warmth (and no small amount of smugness) when the boy looks to him for reassurance and direction.

“I’m afraid your drawing all the wrong conclusions, Captain Hirako,” Aizen said smoothly.

That has Gin perking up, a flash of panic crossing his face. “No—no! Lieutenant Aizen didn’t do none o’ this. It was…” Gin’s voice withers to a whisper, his hands twisting knots in the sheets. “It was someone else.”

“Gin came to me a little after a midnight,” Aizen picks up where Gin had trailed off, “and after seeing the state he was in, I certainly wasn’t going to send him back to the barracks, so I let him sleep here. I was going to inform you of this, this morning, Captain.”

Hirako scoffs, knowing damn well that Aizen wouldn’t have told him shit and they both know it. But (he glances at Gin, who can’t quite hide his unease and confusion behind his usual grin), “Fine,” he allows reluctantly. “But you’ll bring the people who did this to me. Ya’ want slaughter ‘em, fine—we just gotta make it official-like. Ya’ hear me Souske, official. None o’ this vanishin’ from existence crap.”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying Captain,” Aizen replies mildly.

Hirako scoffs. “Like hell ya don’t.” He turns to Gin, his whole body softening, “C’mon kid, you’re with me for the day. I’ll walk ya to yer barracks so’s you can grab yer stuff.” He turns back to Aizen, “Kid’s stayin’ with you from now on.” It wasn’t a question.

“If that’s what Gin wants,” Aizen replies agreeably, his polite smile never wavering.

Gin just looks at them, full of confusion, and fear, and the most damning of all, hope.

•

Gin forces himself to not look longingly back as Aizen walks away. He can still feel the warmth of his hand when he had gently ruffled his hair with a warm smile that didn’t look or feel fake at all, even though Gin tells himself that it has to be.

I’m just an asset to ‘im that’s all. He ain’t protectin’ me—I’m just more useful alive than dead. That’s all. Maybe if he repeats it often enough he can make himself believe it. Because Aizen wasn’t some protector or big brother figure, he was the Boss and Gin couldn’t afford to forget that.

A rough, but not unkind hair ruffle brings him out of his thoughts.

“C’mon kid,” Captain Hirako nudges him forward, “you get the dubious honor of helpin’ me with paperwork.”

Gin fixes his smile in place and ignores the childish urge to whine because paperwork is the worst and he still has a hard time reading kanji—he’d rather be practicing with Shinso instead.

But he doesn’t let any of this show on his face as he chirps out an obedient, “Yes, Cap’n.” And follows at his heels, but as they turn the corner Gin can’t help but look in the direction that Aizen had gone, a part of him wishing he could’ve gone with.

If only to stab Shinso through those bastards stomachs. That was always an awful way to go.

Aizen excels at playing by the book—of finding all the finicky, little details and twisting them until they suit his purposes. He is also good at playing the meek lieutenant, indulgent and harried, always chasing after his captain.

Oh he is well-liked enough, his Squad often describes him as “someone who can soften their Captain’s rough edges”—a description he has to fight not to laugh at. But most importantly, no one fears him. No one sees him clearly enough to know to fear him.

Well, besides Captain Hirako. A truly troublesome if entertaining man. But in this they are united—Hirako won’t let anything happen to Gin, which leaves Aizen with more than enough freedom to find these men and make them regret every life choice they’ve ever made that lead them to this point.

And then, he’ll turn them over to Captain Hirako where they’ll soon understand that death by his hand would’ve been a kinder end. Though not by much.

Shinji hides a grin as he watches Gin thumb reluctantly through the paperwork he had handed the kid, a badly hidden pout on his face.

Cute. It seems that despite the kid’s well-earned reputation (and boy had that kid earned it) he was still just that, a kid. Pint-sized too. He hadn’t realized just how small the kid was until he had him walking beside him, the brat’s head barely cleared his waist.

He’s ashamed to admit that he’s avoided the kid since Aizen took him under his wing almost immediately and Hirako doesn’t trust that bastard an inch, so when Gin started followin’ Aizen around like a second shadow Hirako began treat him the same way he did Aizen.

Well, that’s gonna have ta change. And it’s gonna have to start with letting the kid know he can trust him. Not an easy feat by any means—Rukon kids are a lot like stray cats, once bitten always shy (as Shinji knows only too well, having been one of those Rukon brats himself).

And while Aizen seems to have his trust (an infuriating prospect), Gin only knows him as his Captain, and a distant one at that. A Captain who was too busy waiting for Souske to slip up only to miss that at least three shinigami under my command are rapist pedophiles who deserve to get thrown straight to Hell.

If Gin ever trusts him again (if he ever did) Shinji would consider it a miracle. He glances at him again and quickly bites down on the huff of laughter when he sees the kid’s face—his fixed, eerie smile is completely absent as he glares at a piece of paper like wants to light it on fire.

He probably found the our monthly budget. Even Souske can’t quite hide his disdain fer it. Which was why Shinji always made Souske handle it, if just to see that flicker of irritation break through that awful mask of his.

“That’s quite a face kid,” Shinji drawls. “Did ya find the budget? That always puts Souske in a sour mood too.”

Gin’s face scrunches up even more, making him look a disgruntled puppy or perhaps, more accurately, a fox kit, either way it was disgustingly cute, and Shinji valiantly resists the urge to pat the boy on the head, mostly because he didn’t fancy getting himself stabbed.

“No, I like numbers,” the boy mutters, looking embarrassed, “it’s jus’—I’m still…I don’t know all my kanji yet.” He mumbles out that last part miserably.

Ah. A pang of sympathy hits Shinji right in the chest. Reading and writing—the bane of almost all Rukon brats. And with the kid speeding through the Academy in just under a year he doubts that any of the teachers had even bothered to teach him anything but the most basic hiragana and katakana.

Useless morons.

“Well, bring it here kid,” Shinji waves him over, “we can go over it together.”

He sees Gin hesitate, a brief stutter in his steps before his gait smooths out and he’s handing over the report with his usual grin. “That’s ok, cap’n. I don’t wanna—”

“Ya ain’t an imposition,” Shinji interrupts, “and I ain’t askin’. Now pull up a seat.”

Gin looks at him for one long, tense moment (looking for the trick probably—that glint of cruelty that would tell him it’s a trap) before finally acquiescing with a grumbling sigh.

Shinji resists the urge to grab the boy up and put him on his lap, instead letting him drag a chair that was taller than he was around to his desk.

He lays the report out so they both can see it.

“Ok,” he begins patiently, “where’d ya get stuck?”

Dusk is falling when Aizen finally returns dragging two men callously behind him, a slick blood trail following in their wake. Oh they were alive, per his captain’s orders, they just very much wished they weren’t. Like their third accomplice.

The one Gin had gutted. But at least he had died suffering.

No one batted an eye as Aizen headed towards his captain’s office, Kyoka Suigetsu’s power blinding them to the two men being drug behind him, begging for a mercy that won’t come. Not from him and certainly not from his captain.

He only hopes that Gin is tucked away somewhere safe. There’s no need for him to see the faces of his attackers nor witness the absolute carnage Captain Hirako will unleash on them (because no matter how cathartic Gin may believe it will be to witness it, Aizen knows it will only scar him, and that boy doesn’t need anymore nightmares).

So when he opens Hirako’s office he can’t help but pin the infuriating man with a dark glare when he sees Gin fast asleep on the man’s lap.

“Captain,” he says scoldingly as he dismisses Kyoka Suigetsu’s power with a thought, while at the same time making it look like he’s dispersing a concealment kido.

“It’s fine Souske,” Hirako flaps a hand at him and Aizen stifles the urge to rip it off. “Kid’s out like a light. I also cast a sound barrier kido around him; trust me, nothing short of the sky fallin’ is gonna wake this kid.”

“Whatever you say Captain Hirako,” he says flatly, radiating disapproval.

(He silently activates Kyoka Suigetsu again, weaving it around Gin so that even if he does wake up the only thing he’ll see are Aizen and Hirako in the office. He won’t hear or see the two men bound and bloodied at Aizen’s feet.)

Hirako just grins at him like he’s baring his teeth. “Well, at least they’re alive. Barely.”

Aizen pointedly ignores the slight admonishment with well-practiced ease. “You said alive Captain. I’m afraid you didn’t specify how intact you wanted them.”

The men at his feet shudder. One of them even whimpers. Pathetic.

Hirako scoffs, sneering at the men as he gets to his feet, easily cradling Gin with one arm. Aizen hears one of the men choke.

“Ya know,” Hirako begins conversationally, “I’m generally a pretty easy-goin’ cap’n. So’s long as things get done and paperwork gets handed in, I really don’t give a damn what ya bunch get up to in yer downtime,” and here, his voice turns cold and hard, “but this—I should cut ya bastards down like hollows.”

“Wh—whatever that kid said we did,” one them wheezes, “he’s lying! I—I swear to you he’s lying! You…you know how those Rukon brats are!”

The man realizes his mistake too late, panic carving terror into his face. Hirako smiles.

He doesn’t drop his reiatsu on them—Gin’s in the room after all (and it wouldn’t do to alert the entire barracks of what was happening in here)—but he doesn’t need to, the look on his face alone is enough to make the two men shake with fear.

Aizen smiles coldly. Like this, you almost look frightening, Captain Hirako.

“Yeah,” Hirako laughs, “I do know what those Rukon brats are like.”

“Cap—Captain! Captain, please!” One of them begs.

Hirako ignores him. “Souske, take Gin.”

“Of course, Captain,” he replies obediently, taking the boy in his arms and brutally ignores the part of him that’s softens in relief at having him in his arms again—safe.

He cradles Gin close as he watches Hirako stab one man through the throat (a slow, horrible way to die), and slicing the other’s stomach open. Being eaten alive by your own stomach acid, how cruel, Aizen thinks approvingly.

“I did consider cutting yer dicks off,” Hirako tells the dying men idly, wiping his zanpakto clean, “but that would involve undressing ya, an’ I just didn’t need that image in my life, ya know.”

The men gurgle, blood bubbling from their mouths as they choke on their last words.

Throughout it all Gin sleeps peacefully in his arms, oblivious.

#bleach #my fic #ichimaru gin #aizen sousuke #child gin #pendulum arc

7 notes · View notes

lunavaleheart · 5 months

Text

Do I belong?

Long through the night have I pondered that question, and weeping in darkness I have dared not wander—for if my thoughts should stray me further, I fear I might lose myself. For hours I'd cry. My face would ache and my lungs would grow weak and the tears would bring me no solace. And yet in the comfort of night and the shroud of its darkness there was peace among the silence of a world that had brought me such grief.

When the moon falls the sun comes to greet me, yet the morning is bittersweet and as every new day dawns, the bright and blinding light it brings gives no comfort to those who struggled through the night. You see, it's in that light—their light—that we each meet the maker of our misery. The light I've known is cruel and harsh. Every blemish shone bare, every difference denoted. In their light I am nothing more than sin—I am naught but an amusement for the mob. A cruel snicker, a cold stare, the sharp and crooked finger pointing through me—stabbing at my heart.

Why can't they see that I am more than shadows strewn out upon the surface of this world? I am between, and I am beyond. I am beautiful and I am worthy of love. I am capable of great empathy and compassion. I am a person, as they are—no more flawed than any other.

What of me shakes their world so, that I am worth destroying?—That they must cast me out?

...

My queer heart burns with fierce passion and righteous fury. Scorned as I am, I swear to live each day with pride and take each step with ardent fervor. No longer will I subsist within the comfortable cloak of the darkness that has bound me in silence for the eternity I've lived each day. I will make my own light and shine brightly outwards from within myself so that all those who look upon me will see the depth of my existence and the beauty of my being.

My hope will be that the burning light of my heart will shine forth and warm the hearts of all those stuck in the cold comforts of that stale darkness I once called home. That together the coalescence of our hearts will form harmonious symphonies that break our bonds and free us from the oppression and misery wrought on us by those who cast us out.

I need not live in fear and I need not suffer under the pestilence of a society that treats me with disdain and contempt. I am capable of great things. No heartache suffered nor pain endured shall see me sate the appetite of those who savor my distress. I shall continue to flourish. I shall see my truth unfurled.

...

I once asked myself if I belong; for a moment I thought not. I felt as though there was nothing here to find peace or happiness in. I thought I was truly alone. Yet now I understand the truth. I'm never alone, because I have community. They are my home and my happiness. With them by my side I'm never truly alone. They keep my light alive. They see me through hardship with such sweet succour. They are my friends, my family and more. They are my treasures.

(I'm already out publicly but I was inspired to write something lately and I wrote this as a short coming out story and thought it might be worth posting somewhere. No idea what tags to add because I don't use Tumblr often tbh.)

#queer community #queer #queer literature #coming out #lgbtqia #transgender

7 notes · View notes

bitchyglitterfox · 2 years

Text

Ch. 1 - A Fresh Start

A/n: finally I’m posting Chapter 1 to my new series! I think I will make it correspond with the movies starting after AoU and in this Pietro lived. But I hope you guys like this! It is 8 years in the making haha, you’ll also see some familiar faces or rather read.

Warnings: Just fluff and some flirting, and avengers fighting

Words: 1.5k

Chapter 2 >

Main Master-List

Blinding Light Master-List

*******************

It had been 5 months since I left my family behind in order to protect them. I’ve moved into a small one-bedroom apartment in New York City and only go out for groceries and my job at the corner cafe. I was returning from a grocery run when I unlock my door and enter, something doesn’t feel quite right and I drop the bag by the door. I walk further in and I see a figure sitting in the recliner in the corner.

“I don’t know who you think you are but I suggest you leave my home right now before I fry you!” I yell out already feeling my powers.

“Welcome home Miss (Y/n), my name is Nick Fury, and Im or rather I was the Director of SHIELD,” the mysterious figure says still sitting.

Electricity was coursing through my hand as I spoke “If that’s true then prove it. If you can't then I don’t know who the hell you are pal but I’ll kindly ask you one last time to leave my home or else I’ll electrocute your ass!”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge of sorts. “Protocol 78,” he says to it.

“User: Nicholas J Fury, Welcome back” a small hologram appears. It’s SHIELD’s official symbol; alright he is the real deal.

“Alright, you really are the big cheese, but what do you want with me and how did you find me?”

“We never lost tabs on you or your family after your father passed, we simply kept our distance. Now those men who took you were HYDRA, we believe they mean to recruit you or find any information you have about your father and the work he did with SHIELD” he says getting up out of the chair. “Now we already have agents watching over your family but as for you, I’d like to ask you to join us”

I stare at him wide-eyed, “Me? A Super Hero? You can’t be serious; I don’t have the proper training. I don’t, no I can’t”

“You have the proper training all you need to learn is how to control your gift and we can do that with the help of the Avengers. But if that isn’t what you choose then so be it, the offer still stands and Miss Y/n, we’ll be watching you, just to make sure nothing happens to you that is.” With a final word, he walks out of the apartment.

I go and grab the groceries that I had left by the front door, I start putting away the groceries and go over my options. I could become a SHIELD Agent like my father and help save the world against all the evils in this world or I could continue to live a normal life as a civilian and just rely on them to protect me against HYDRA. You know what screw it; I want to be able to protect this world and my family. I lean against my counter when there's a knock at the door.

“I see you've made your decision, I will be back within a week to take you to your new home and begin your training,” Fury says while standing outside my door.

“I can be ready in 2 hours,” I say while allowing him in and going to my bedroom and packing.

I finish writing the note to my landlord about my leaving and no longer needing the apartment. I tape it to the front door and lock it, slipping my key underneath the door and leaving with Fury, I fix my baseball cap on my head and slip on sunglasses on, sliding into a sleek unmarked black SUV.

“What now? I go meet the team go a few rounds with them and see if I’m Hero material?”

“Correct, if you choose to stay you’ll be safe with 24hr surveillance or if you choose to leave you can go back to the life you had before, however, we would prefer you join the Avengers.” He says as we begin driving.

“My father, he was a good man. I know he would want me to become someone who helps others. So, I'll stay and become an agent of SHIELD.” I say while looking him in the eyes.

The rest of the ride was silent, I stared out of the window watching as we passed by trees thinking of my family, hoping that they are safe. I’m pulled from my thoughts when we break through a clearing and I huge building comes into view.

“Wow,” I breathe as the black SUV comes to a stop. I open up my door and bring my duffel bag onto my shoulder.

“Welcome to your new home Y/n,” he says as I get out of the SUV, “This is where i leave you for now, however, you will meet your team on the fourth floor, the elevator to your right will take you right to them.

‘You’ve got this Y/n, you're just moving in with THE avengers and becoming a part of the team, no biggie’ I say to myself as I watch the numbers on the elevator get higher and higher ‘Oh who am I kidding this is the best freaking day of my life! Even if I am here to protect my family from harm there is no shame in being excited’ Im pulled out of my thoughts by the ding of the elevator indicating I had made it to my floor.

The doors opened “Hi im (Y/n) Jacobs, I'm the newest member of the Avengers…” I'm cut mid-speech just as a vase comes flying towards me, thanks to my fast reflexes, I'm able to stop it with a flick of my wrist, blasting it to pieces. I look up and see my new teammates fighting.

“That’s enough!” I yell stepping out of the elevator and stopping everyone in their tracks.

“Uh, who's the new chick?” The one who I assume is Tony Stark asks as he's about to punch Steve Rogers I'm guessing.

“The new chick has a name and it's (Y/n) Jacobs, I'm your new teammate” I saw with a serious tone “I'm also the chick who was almost hit in the face with a vase.”

“Oh, that was my fault” I look up and see a brunette girl around my age say and look down.

“So are you guys gonna introduce ourselves or am I just gonna have to guess for the rest of the time being?” I ask with a smirk. “And why exactly were you all fighting?”

“Well I'm tony stark Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist,” Tony says standing up and leaning against the couch.

“Im steve Rogers Ma’am” steve says while getting up from the ground.

“Im Wanda Maximoff and this-” wanda says being cut off by a streak of blue.

“Im her twin Pietro Maximoff,” a rather cute boy says.

“Hello, my name is vision,” an android said.

“Im James Buchanan Barnes ma’am but you can call me bucky,” A man with a metal arm and shaggy brown hair says standing up from a couch.

“I am Thor Fair Maiden!” a booming blonde said, his loudness made me giggle slightly.

“I am Loki God of mischief,” a lanky black-haired man said standing next to thor.

“Im Natasha Romanoff but you can call me Nat,” A red-haired woman said while sitting on top of a man who was passed out. “Oh and that's Clint Barton, he's a little preoccupied right now.”

“Im sam Wilson, another friend to steve,” Sam said smirking and looking over at Bucky.

“As for Rhodey, he's out on some military business and won't be here for quite some time,” Tony said, “That means the only person left is”

“Hi im bruce banner, it's really nice to meet you (y/n).” a shy and timid curly-haired man said while standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Well, I think that's everyone. Uh, how exactly did you stop that vase from hitting you?” Tony asked with curiosity.

“Oh, thats easy! I’m an Electrokinetic meaning I can control the electricity around me as well as use the electricity in my body to shoot it from my hands” I say quite proudly.

“Interesting, well you'll definitely have to show us more of your powers during training or sometime else,” tony said excitedly. I shake my head and nod while yawning.

“I'm sorry, I just got here from NYC and all the new information presented to me has me a bit exhausted. Do you mind showing me my new room?” I asked while grabbing my bags.

“Here I'll show you, there's an empty room next to mine you can have,” Wanda says while walking over towards me.

“Thank you,” I say smiling and walking down the hall with her.

“She's hot,” Pietro says not knowing I can still hear him.

“Thank you!” I said blushing a bit. Following my thank you, you are a chorus of laughs.

When I finally finish dropping my things off in my room, I turn to Wanda.

“Is your brother always the flirty type?” I ask a small smile appearing on my face.

#bitchyglitterfox writes #marvel #marvel studios #marvel x reader #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda fluff #avengers fluff #avengers x y/n #avengers x reader

63 notes · View notes

foxymoxynoona · 2 years

Note

DRABBLES

I want many but I'll throw some out there for you to choose

Amended JK with his newborn baby, getting to experience being a baby dad for the first time.

Penguin!Koo and Rana...possibly having a bub? 🥺 I just know Jungkook would be a fretful mess and Rana cool as beans (though imagine the role reversal)

And new potential drabbles -

Spaceship captain reader x alien Hoseok + soulmates = 'I question fates decision sometimes, you know?'

Fae Lord Jimin x human reader = 'you will not touch her'

God of death Taehyung x Goddess of memories reader = 'because death is eternal'

Ok, I'm going to wind up writing a few of these but I'll keep linking back to this post so you get credit for your ideas 😉 But the first one is ready!

TITLE: Regretful Eternal & Yours Characters: God of Death Taehyung x Goddess of Memories Reader + 'becaues death is eternal' Word count: 4990 CW: general discussions of death, afterlife, sad regrets, memories of sex, some language

“Taehyung!”

The God of death closed his eyes and let out a deep, weary sigh as his name echoed in that voice down the corridor. He hazarded a glance at his collection of KAWS stuffies lined up on the back shelf of his office. He’d been told the familiar cartoon characters with Xs for eyes were “macabre,” “weird,” and “juvenile.” Maybe the last god of death relished being a soulless dark villain but Taehyung liked having some personality, thanks. He’d been doing this for hundreds of years now since the last guy vacated. He wanted his office space to reflect that he still had some of his personality left; go ahead, crucify him for it. The stuffies were not going to help him with the obvious storm headed his way.

“Taehyung,” that voice snapped once again, now standing annoyingly in his doorway. Hard to believe he’d once orgasmed to the sound of that voice saying his name, though decidedly less sharp and more moany than the way you said it now.

“Yes, my darling?” he drawled, turning slowly to face you.

“Fuck off with ‘darling,’ I’m not your scribe dropping pens in front of you for attention,” you scoffed, rolling right into, “Four. Four souls were signed off by you in the past mortal hour as headed for the rebirth loop without my approval. You can’t just forget my signature–”

“It’s a very easy signature to forge,” he snickered, recalling the way he used to sign your name. With his tongue. On a very intimate part of your body.

Not that he wanted to remember that or anything, but it was better than remembering anything else.

Rage left you stuttering incoherently for a moment –he could remember other times he made you do that, if he cared to– before you shouted, “Well it’s not your job! And if you don’t cut that shit out–”

“You’ll what? Go above my head?” He grinned. “I’m the god of death, darling, there is no above me.” You’d once told him how classy and romantic it was for him to call you that.

He still knew precisely how to push your buttons. His ego about his title, slightly higher than yours as the Goddess of Memories, had always been a splinter in both your professional and private relationship. Blind fury welled up inside you that he’d resort to such a taunt, but you channeled that into the one place you could get him: bureaucracy.

Because it actually was a problem if he was sending anyone for rebirth for whom memories still lingered in the world. It was your job to make sure that didn’t happen. One baby born who looked oddly like someone else could be chalked up to “strong genes” or “uncanny coincidence” but if it happened too much, you wound up with people asking too many questions, and then the system could break down completely, there’d be mass panic, the Fates would fire you all and your own immortal souls would be disintegrated into nothing. The world could only handle so many accidents, really only one major and obvious reborn soul, and that spot belonged to Keanu Reeves –all because Taehyung had lost a bet to Charlemagne centuries ago, the idiot.

No, you would not specify which one was the idiot.

Ok, fine, it was both.

“Don’t make me go to the Fates,” you countered, because while they might be sideways in heirarchy, they were in fact the only ones who could pluck the strings to fix the mistake that was either Taehyung’s existence or promotion.

Taehyung rolled his eyes but lacked a witty comeback.

It left you space to notice the tablet propped on his desk with the signature screen open.

“Oh my Titans are you fucking doing it right now?!” you cried, diving forward at the same moment he did. He grabbed for the tablet but he’d pushed back too far in his chair when he wanted you to notice his manspreading and hopefully trigger a memory of his dick (it did not) and his fingers barely brushed the device as you pulled it away. Sure enough, a quick scroll higher showed it was the sign-off for another rebirth, one neither reviewed nor approved by you. “These have to go through my department! You can’t just rebirth everyone! What the fuck is your problem?”

He knew his eyeroll would infuriate you as he insisted, “I was just about to forward this one over to you.”

“Like fuck you were.” You ignored his insistence and opened the file up onto his wall screen. You crossed your arms and watched the life moments play before you, realizing quickly that these were the highlights and lowlights of an old man’s life as marked by Taehyung’s team as “life defining.”

“You nitwit,” you scoffed, “You’re looking at the highlights and lowlights to determine eligibility?”

“Don’t doubt the skills of my team–”

“I’m sure they’re great at your job, but they can’t do mine. Get out of the chair.”

“No. You can sit,” he said, leaning back and motioning to his lap.

“It’s been two hundred years, give it up already.”

His face slid into a scowl, “Give what up? My chair? Not on your life.”

“I don’t have a life. All I do is work,” you scoffed, quickly masking the personal complaint with the addition, “Because somebody’s been fucking it up and making more work for me.” You waited. You gestured for the chair.

With a sigh, he slapped a button on his desk and demanded another chair, “make sure it’s smaller than mine.” A moment later his assistant sprinted in, pushing it along. They settled it by Taehyung, bowed, and then fled.

“What happened to Tiff?” you asked, referring to Taehyung’s previous assistant who’d definitely been trying to seduce him and, you suspected, probably succeeded.

“Fired her. Used too much teeth,” he shrugged. You didn’t even get a word shouted before he snickered, “I’m kidding. I don’t fuck subordinates. She quit. Said it was too depressing down here.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, that seemed to happen a lot. You worked in two of the most depressing departments of the entire Underworld, after all. Staff turnover was high. That was a thing Taehyung had enjoyed about your relationship, that you got it, both the stresses of the job, the loneliness, but also the joy of a well-managed passage at the end of a mortal life, the beauty of rebirth or release, the two of you waxing poetic about eternal cycles–

Not that he was interested in remembering that. He grinned, recalling instead the way your nails had traced red shapes into the skin of his back as he split you open–

“Stop that,” you huffed.

“What? Something bothering you?” he smirked, knowing full well that as the Goddess of Memories, your access to any memory recalled –especially right in front of your face– was yours to witness. Not always with your permission. Taehyung in particular had always been very good at getting under your skin and into your mind. Which led to some pretty mind blowing orgasms but also–

He snickered under his breath, like he knew he made you think of something good. He snickered like he didn’t understand the pain that came in the end. You don’t think he ever did understand that. God of Death and all that. No sentimentality about The End. Just a fact of eternity.

Despite your annoying thoughts, you were typing, searching, scrolling the whole time, peeking into interactions that jump out at you here, scouring school days and dates and days both good and bad at work. The man’s life had largely been one tragedy after another strung together by mundanity, but not the kind of tragedies that left a lasting impression on anyone except the one enduring them. No remarkable news coverage that sparked an author. No car crashes that changed someone’s outlook on the fragility of life. No major work accomplishes that inspired his colleagues. He’d been laid off and wound up in a retail job where he remained just mediocre enough to not get fired. When he retired, no one noticed.

“See?” Taehyung said, gesturing to the screen. “There’s nothing. He died without leaving a mark on the world in any way. Literally no one remembers him. He didn’t even have a nurse at the end who–”

You shake your head, “You don’t know anything about memory. You just know…”

“What?”

“Sex and death,” you say, brushing him away with a flick of your hand. “The impressions we leave aren’t always obvious. A face can linger in someone’s mind for the most innocuous reason–”

“But it has to reach a certain threshold to disqualify them from rebirth–”

“I know the rules, Taehyung. I’m good at my job.”

“I know you are,” he grumbled. You ignore the almost compliment and continue to dig. You start to look in the corners of the deceased man’s life, at the people who bought things from him off Craigslist, at any stores he went to frequently enough to become a familiar face. He donated to the Humane Society regularly, but only money, not time. His primary care doctor had died a few years before and he’d bounced around since then. He bought his prescriptions off the internet. He lived in an apartment but paid his rent by check and his landlord couldn’t recall the old man’s face, just was angry when he discovered the man dead after he was late on rent because there’d been no loved one to haul away the old man’s things which delayed his ability to clean and relist the apartment.

“Give up?” Taehyung asked. “There’s nothing.”

“There’s always something, at least something that delays– you can’t just send people to rebirth directly–”

“There isn’t always something and you know that as well as I do,” Taehyung argued. You hated that he, too, was awfully good at his job. Which made these forged signatures even more infuriating because it wasn’t like him at all! Usually he respected the system, considering he’d help build it!

Was he seeing someone again and it had him distracted? He was rushing through work to go see them? That made sense, it had been a long time, so far as you knew, and when Taehyung went into something, he went all the way in…

You looked and looked for something that wasn’t there as Taehyung grew increasingly frustrated before he finally reached forward and tapped the screen to bring up the signature form again, the waiver for you to officially sign that would release this man’s soul back into the queue for rebirth. How long it might wait there was the call of another department based on your needs and the priorities of other gods and departments.

“There’s nothing,” he said to you, but quieter this time. While he loved to tease and antagonize, his goal wasn’t actual embarrassment; he could read you like a book, annoyingly fluent, and predict you’d be frustrated not to “win” with this man.

You let out a deep sigh and conceded only, “This doesn’t happen as much these days.”

“Hm.”

“Fewer tenant farmers crawling off to die alone in their huts and get eaten by wildlife,” you mused. “Fewer towns wiped out by invaders down to the last child. The internet has changed things, people have the chance to make meaningful connections even beyond their daily circle–”

“Yeah but anonymously,” Taehyung countered. Skatá, he missed having these deep arguments with you. “Real name and real face: memories have to include those to send you to the after–”

“Do not preach at me about the rules! You of all people!” you shouted, pushing back from the desk in a huff. Then, because you’d been thinking about it lately, you insisted, “We ought to change the criteria. Memory… souls should be able to live on in memory for more than a face or a name. There are so many other ways to leave your mark on the world. There are so many other meaningful moments and connections–”

“If those moments were meaningful enough to allow someone to recognize your soul, they’d be remembered. The rules don’t need to change–”

You rose from your chair, demanding, “So people should be condemned to the repetition, to going back to that damned plane of mortal existence over and over again until they can pull of some connection in that lonely and quick-to-forget world that convinces us they’ve done enough to earn their eternity?”

“It’s not a punishment! It’s just… another chance.”

“Don’t you think it feels like a punishment? Can you really imagine having to do it all over again and again–”

“They don’t remember,” he insisted.

“Exactly. It’s hell. It’s inhumane–”

“Forgetting can be a mercy,” he countered.

For a moment you were both silent. You didn’t want to understand what he meant. You didn’t want to assume it was about you, even though you, too, could read him like a book.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, gesturing as he added, “Besides what’s the record for repetitions, twenty? That’s not so bad.” He’d always admired your deep love for the people, your ‘bleeding heart’ for the mortals, so to speak. It was a thing you had understood in him and he in you, that you could deal with this final moment in their lives, one mortals couldn’t decide on as blessed or tragic but often caused pain and suffering to those who lingered either way, and recognize the importance of your work and also recognize how unknown it was to the both of you.

“Isn’t that worse? They have to start all over, nothing to guide them better this time, no comfort that if this one doesn’t work out, they’ll get another chance, no warning that eventually they won’t. No hint that all they need to do is connect or leave something behind and they’ll be free of their mortal shackles– I mean look at all the stories they invent trying to make sense of it all!”

“It’s funny,” Taehyung grinned. Trying to be funny, because he’d slipped thinking fondly about your passion and devotion to your work and hadn’t resumed thinking instead about your tits quickly enough. There. Now he was smiling, thinking about them. “Look if you have a proposed update to the criteria, I’m happy to read it.”

“Magnanimous of you.”

He wanted to lure you back to talking about the impact of human technology on mortal connection but a sudden glint in your eye had you pull yourself back into the keyboard.

“I’m an idiot,” you murmured, pulling open a separate database.

Taehyung’s brow furrowed as he leaned closer to see what had suddenly captured your enthusiasm.

“Ah…” he sighed as you trawled the ‘Regrets’ database. He had done a cursory search for any regrets of the man’s… but he had not done a search for any regrets about the man.

“This should be a part of every review –and it is if these files come to my office first,” you mumbled. Yes, you were aware he was leaning in a way where he could watch your face instead of the screen. Just like you were aware he kept remembering things completely inappropriate for the workplace. “Also please get laid so you don’t short-circuit every time I’m in the room.”

“What, you think you’re special?”

“Apparently the scent of my shampoo is. Or is it my perfume? You seem uncertain.”

He snorted derisively and looked to the screen at your sudden cry of victory. There, on the screen, an elderly woman who had pined for the man when he was young but never told him. He had died unaware, but she’d carried that longing for him in her heart until it had morphed and solidified into a solid, life-long what if? She’d married and pursued a successful career in novel writing, still published something every few years to this day. Her first novel had recently been reprinted, including its dedication in the beginning:

To my first love and the last time I let fear hold me back. Thank you for inspiring me to always think of what could be and to take the leap for the things I want. And thank you for that piece of bubblegum when I skinned my knee in fourth grade. You were a swell chap, Glenn.

“Ha!” you crowed, pushing up from the chair for the last time. “That’s enough! That book is in print right now with that dedication.”

“It could be any Glenn–”

“But it’s not,” you insisted. “Pull up her file, her memories of him are still there, she’s still living, and she’s no doubt told others the story if she even kept the initial dedication to him. Rebirth denied, eternal freedom granted.” You crossed your arms, gave Taehyung a smug grin, and sank back into the chair to watch and make sure he correctly marked the file. Yes, it was barely passable, you knew that. Yes, he could probably overrule you if he wanted. The woman was likely he only one to remember the man enough and she’d be dead within a decade too; his soul could easily wait that long in the queue and then be rebirthed without any issue. But for right now he had technically passed.

It meant something to you that Taehyung let you have this.

“Yeah but…”

“But what?” you pressed.

“But isn’t it just kind of… sad? He doesn’t even know he still mattered to that woman,” he said. His movements slowed as he dragged the tablet closer and backed out to the correct form. “He died not knowing she felt anything about him at all, or that he had any impact on anyone. Is that really the spirit of success here?”

You fell silent. Taehyung had written those rules; or some of them, the newer ones, since he’d taken over so long ago.

“I just mean,” he continued, “is this the worse punishment? We send him on to eternal freedom, he can see the homage that gave him that release, and in death, this is all he has to show for it. So now he has a regret that he didn’t know this, and maybe his life could have been completely different if he’d known.”

Carefully, you pointed out, “It doesn’t mean it would have been. And you forget how lonely and despairing so many people are. This might be comforting. It’s not like he didn’t know he had no one and nothing at the end. He had the birds he watched from his window and a few TV shows he kept up on. Nothing in his memories indicates he wants to try again.”

“Because you wouldn’t.”

“Of course not! That world seems damned terrible for most of the people in it! Look how hard some people have to fight just to exist, much less make friends and pursue their passions and make any big mark on the world. Their life systems are focused on all the wrong things. They’re so busy telling everyone how to live and what they’re allowed to do and caging it all in with money–”

“Yeah Capitalism was really a victory for the Act of God and Karma department, huh? It always feels like those fuckers went overboard but then you see what the mortals do to each other and...”

“It’s fucked up,” you agreed.

“You and I, we really have the best departments,” he suggested.

“We… do,” you agreed slowly, because there was camaraderie behind the way he said it and you didn’t know why the sudden shift in mood.

“But sometimes… sometimes the act of The End is what makes you realize that you do want another chance. How many final moments have we seen where people begged for it? How many times are those final moments focused on regret? Sometimes people want another chance!”

You blinked at him. You, like so many times before, pretended not to see the memories slipping through the sieve of his mind without either his or your permission –evenings spent in bed yes but also mornings waking up in each others arms; holidays basking in the sun on the beaches of Naxos; arguing over a dinner you made and he would clean up because you had talents that complimented each other; a reason to stop working so damn much, even just to canoodle in his office when something so tragic came across one of your desks that you needed a physical reminder that you were safe, that he was safe, that you had in each other love and support and acceptance. How blessed it had been for you, known to cry at work as you sorted through memories or the absence of them, to find that Taehyung could soothe your heart, but also that he too felt the sorrows that came with the job. You were not alone.

But you ignored those memories, and those thoughts in yourself, because you knew a memory wasn’t a choice. A memory happened. It’s why they were the pure system by which eternal death or rebirth hinged on, because a memory didn’t equal a truth, but it was the fabric of that ephemeral thing, the soul. Your soul consisted of your own memories, of as many lives as you led, which you were free to parse and peruse in the freedom of eternal death, but only once your soul left some piece of itself on earth, in the souls of others. An unearthly form of reproduction, you could say. And you, the two of you, managed the process to keep those frail humans from losing their minds because four identical people were running around, a single fragmented soul now going to confuse and terrorize other souls also afraid of fragmenting, afraid of being incomplete or unwhole. Humans were obsessed with being whole and ‘normal’ and all sorts of boring things, when really they should be concerned with challenge, passion, enthusiasm, and joy.

At least that’s what you’d written in your Masters thesis that had landed you this title. It had gotten you laughed out of a few offices but Taehyung had poured over it multiple times as his fingers lazily roamed your bodies, asking questions as he fed you grapes dipped in honey, moaned about how he loved your mind as he made love to your body–

Memories were not choices, they just were. Taehyung, like this novel writer, was not driven to act by the presence of any of those memories, other than being a cocky asshole about the raunchy ones. That was itself a choice, and it told you everything you needed to know in a clear way, unlike this veiled could-be metaphor.

“Well you’re the God of Death,” you pointed out. “If you think there’s a flaw in the system, you fix it. I don’t know, add a clause that if the person dies with regrets– no, we did that–”

“Yeah, we did that,” Taehyung said. “People are still freaked out about ghosts even though there haven’t been any new ones since I took over and ended that one. Freaky as shit! You think rebirth is bad…”

“Well add the clause. You’re good at dragging things out,” you snorted. You hadn’t meant it to be mean, not really, but it was clear from his face he took it as such. Quickly you added, “I just meant because death is eternal. You’re the god of… The End. The fork in the road.”

“And you’re the goddess of what, holding on until you get distracted by something else and forget?”

“Hey now,” you glared.

“The goddess of letting your feelings alter what you think actually happened.”

“Taehyung!”

“Confirmation bias.”

“Stop that,” you scoffed. You grabbed his hand and pressed his finger to the thumb scan, approving Glenn’s lonely soul for the relief of eternal death, a place where finally his soul could choose for itself when to wake, when to slumber, when to dream, or when to be no more, as a rock or a star or a blade of grass or Nothing.

“There. Now we’re done, ye God of Ego.”

“Ego,” he repeated. “Ego?”

“Well why else are you skipping me and sending these souls back to try again? Admit it, you don’t want to admit that I can see the things you miss about people. You only look at the highs and the lows and you miss the significance, the importance of all those moments in between–”

“I do not–”

“You got so busy you thought a weekly fuck and a nice dinner on our anniversary was enough,” you continued without entirely meaning to. “Do you know why humans remember the things that go wrong on vacation more than the things that go well? Because manufactured connections are false. Picture perfect is a lie. The memories are smooth and they slip away. They aren’t real. Just like we apparently weren’t–”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. We were plenty real until you got distracted by Neptune and his glow up. He just got bigger because of global warming, Y/N! He’s still the same Poseidon who cums salt and has crabs skittering through his hair–”

“Gods, you are so jealous! Nothing happened with me and Namjoo– I mean Neptune–”

“Oh, he told you to call him Namjoon, huh?” Taehyung gave his chair a hard shove towards the desk and stomped away.

“Nothing happened. That’s not why we ended.”

“Yeah, you’d remember,” he scoffed.

“You remember too,” you insisted. “I see it in your memories.”

He glared and stormed closer, “No, you don’t, because I don’t think about it because it’s not important.”

“Ouch.” You recoiled.

But his face took on a desperate look as he pleaded, “It’s not important because the fact we ended was the worst part of our relationship. Being with you– the good things were so much more important to me. Are so much more important to me. That’s what I’m saying. You were right about Glenn but I think you were wrong about us.”

“So…” Your brain was scrambled. You tried to think through this sudden confession and couldn’t. “But…”

“I want a second chance,” he said. And crossed his arms and lifted his chin.

“Because of…” You looked at the tablet, as if it would explain to you why this sudden change of heart.

“Because I don’t want to be that novelist and regret never admitting that to you.”

“You just miss the sex,” you tried. He’d successfully knock your feet out from under you. This was not how you had expected this workplace confrontation to go.

“You know that’s not true.”

“You think about it all the time–”

“Well there’s a lot of sex to remember,” he grinned. “But I know you see the other memories I try to block out by remembering the sex.”

You did. Because the most joyful and the most painful memories were always the strongest, the easiest to track and feel. And many of your memories together now inspired both joy and suffering.

He wasn’t alone in that.

“I…”

“It’s ok if your answer is no,” he said, with that crooked smile beneath the soft eyes that had always stolen your heart. He could be so smug and headstrong and stubborn but no one had ever loved you or admired you or humored you the way he had, that wasn’t just a memory, it was the truth.

“You have to stop sending people to rebirth without running them by my department first,” you said, lifting your own chin and leveling a serious look at him. “You don’t know everything. Stop pretending like you don’t need me.”

“I do need you.”

The sentence that stopped your heart –or, you know, would have, if you were a mortal with a beating one.

“I need you to help me improve this system,” he said, suddenly scratching at his hair and looking to the side. “I know I’m not perfect and the world is changing so help me with that. You see the things I don’t see and um, I’d rather you help than just not say anything until it’s too late.”

“Ah.”

“You know, at least give me the chance to fix them.”

“It means you have to actually listen.”

“Yeah, I know.” He glanced at you, eyes going wide, youthful in his ageless face.

“Good. It’s good that you know that,” you said. And tried not to look at the memories bubbling over in his mind but it was impossible to miss them, because they were strong, and they were about you, and the regret and hope were honestly enough to nearly make you sick. It wasn’t helpful that they mirrored your own.

“So…”

“I’d be happy to work on the proposal with you,” you conceded. “Over dinner and drinks. On Friday?”

He grinned and nodded, “Yeah, over dinner and drinks on Friday. At your place or…?”

“In a restaurant, Pluto. Or Hades. Or whatever you’ve got on your door plate right now.”

He drew close and took your hand and grinned, “Nah, babe, you know you’ve always been allowed to call me Taehyung. That’ll never change. You’ve been calling me that all day anyway.”

“Have I–? I thought for sure I–” But you had. Oops. Old habits died hard, and Taehyung was just such a pretty name and, ok, maybe it had always left you a little smug to be allowed to call him that private name–

You cleared your throat and straightened your shoulders to gather yourself, “Then I will see you Friday. You pick the restaurant.” You darted away, loosening your hand, a bit flustered by how strongly he could still affect you when you let him. “And Taehyung… make it a good one.”

“Only the best this time. Good enough for eternity, I swear.”

“We’ll see,” you said, and quit his office, hoping in your heart that would be true.

#taehyung ff #kim taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung/reader #kim taehyung ff #exes to lovers #god taehyung #taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung fic

73 notes · View notes

letsplayballet · 1 year

Text

so uh. this post didn't get a whole lot of attention but it did get just enough for me to start trying to write some other scenes. this piece is pretty different vibe-wise, and i'm pretty sure it's not done, but i'm tired of looking at it so!!

~*~

“Have I told you that my father was a cop?”

Akira stops, losing his mental grip on the rest of the sentence he’d been writing for his literature assignment for Kawakami. Glancing up from the paper, he sees Makoto sitting tense as a coiled spring on his perpetually dusty couch, knuckles white on her pen, staring through the textbook in front of her as if she could see into the café below their feet. If it weren’t for Morgana’s perked ears from where he’d been half asleep on the table, Akira could almost believe that she hadn’t said anything at all.

It had been a little strange, when Makoto had shown up hours early for their planned infiltration of Futaba’s palace. She’s his teammate, and he trusts her implicitly, is willing to put his life in her hands- if she’d shown up that morning asking him to go backpacking across China with her, he would only have asked if it could wait until after they’d dealt with Medjed. But despite all this, they haven’t had a lot of time to spend together individually, and Akira gets the sense that there’s still a lot he doesn’t know about her as Makoto, as opposed to Queen.

And she hadn’t asked to do anything drastic. Hadn’t asked anything at all, actually. Just stood in the entrance to Leblanc silently, exactly 15 minutes after opening, until Akira (remembering all I am is a burden to her, remembering the faintest gleam of guilty relief in her eyes when telling them I haven’t seen my sister in days) finishes brewing coffee for the both of them and just as silently brings her upstairs to his room.

They’ve been working on their summer homework for nearly an hour, quiet but not uncomfortably so. This is the first either of them has broken the silence, and it’s pretty clear that whatever is on Makoto’s mind has been weighing on her for a while.

Realizing she’s still sitting there, tense and unmoving, Akira clears his throat a little. “Once, I think? You said he’d worked the beat in Shinjuku.”

Makoto lets out a long, measured breath through her nose, and her jaw unclenches ever so slightly. It’s another few moments before she speaks again.

“He was. He was actually a really instrumental part of the Shinjuku Cleanup Operation.”

She stops again. Bites her lip. Her pen shifts slightly in her grasp.

“I… Growing up, I thought of him as a hero, you know? Idolized him, even. I didn’t know much about his job, not really, but between the few things he shared and what I would always see on shows, I definitely had this golden, untouchable image of what he did. Hunting down criminals, bringing justice to the world… I wanted so badly to be just like him.”

There’s a faint, fond wistfulness to her tone that makes Akira intensely grateful for her still-distant gaze, forcing his breathing to remain calm and even as he gently sets his own pen down and hides his shaking hands in his lap. For a moment he’s overwhelmed –

that dark, ugly fury rising up in him, blinding, screaming see, you can’t trust anyone, as if anyone would give a fuck about you when you’re nothing –

the sense memories of hands too-tight grabbing pulling and concrete hard and cold against his face –

until his battle instincts kick in and he’s able to bring his mind back to his body in the (conditional, relative) safety of his attic room. This is Makoto. She’s not an idiot, and she’s not frivolous with her words, still learning she can say more than the bare minimum she absolutely needs to. If she’s saying all this, to him of all people, then there’s something important in there.

Thankfully, Makoto has lapsed into silence again, too lost in organizing her thoughts to notice his slip. He can feel Morgana’s eyes on him, though, and makes a mental note to block out his evening for that conversation just as Makoto continues.

“When he-” she pauses once more, swallows. “When he died on the job, a few years ago, I only became more motivated to follow in his footsteps. I was… so convinced that there was some nigh-unstoppable tide of evil out in the world, that the police were gallant figures holding the line, and if I joined the police I could…”

“You wanted to help people,” Akira says quietly, filling in as Makoto trails off. Like you needed to be helped, he doesn’t continue, because maybe he’s projecting, though the resonance of his bond with her makes him think he probably isn’t.

Makoto gives a little self-deprecating scoff, turning to look at him for the first time. “I’m sure I sound like some naive idiot, don’t I? I even-” she barrels forward, frustration entering her voice, before Akira can even think to say anything in response, “- I would see stories of corrupt officers, mistreatment, false convictions, and every time I would write it off, or come up with excuses. But then I met you, and none of my excuses sat right even before I tried to blackmail you about dealing with Kaneshiro, and when his men grabbed me off the street the cops at the corner just watched as they forced me into the car and -”

The pen in Makoto’s hand snaps loudly, causing all three of them to jump as shards of plastic clatter across the table.

There is a long, frozen moment where everyone stares at her still-clenched fist and the crooked end of the pen barely kept in place by her grip. It’s broken only when Makoto lets out a loud, shuddering breath and drops the ruined remains of the pen to the table. Morgana makes a quiet noise and stands, crossing the table and sliding into her lap as Makoto presses her own hands to her face in an attempt to compose herself.

Akira gives her a minute, gathering and tossing the pen in the trash and wiping up the few stray drops of splattered ink before sitting next to her on the sofa. He leaves a little space, just in case – but it’s quickly closed, Makoto pressing her shoulder against his, Morgana’s purrs loud and soothing between them.

#tbh this comes from a place of wanting to love makoto again #bc i do! i think she's got some great character to her #but she's also... kinda become a microcosm of my frustrations with p5 #(characters making poor decisions for the sake of plot; refusing to acknowledge problems as systemic instead of blaming individuals)#which is unfair to makoto #so the makoto in my p5 def ain't becoming a cop #this explores some of that and touches on some other things that i've already mentally changed but haven't written yet #and yeah. def not done but i need to sleep and it's done enough lol #my fic #persona 5 #akira kurusu #persona 5 protagonist #makoto niijima #morgana #(adding like. real tags this time. just for fun.)#p5 #p5r

16 notes · View notes

leatherpenance · 2 years

Text

for more than a decade i've been trying to make sense of my nonhuman identity and what to call myself; whether that be angelkin, a shard, incarnate of something, idk. time's been passing but i don't have answers still and there's not many resources to help me pick this apart. i'm using this post to write out some of what i've experienced this past decade and if anyone reads it and can relate, i would love to talk with you.

i would like to preface this with the fact i do have a psychotic disorder, but i've also experienced spirits & ghosts that i know were not a product of my brain because i've experienced the paranormal in the presence of other people. when i am having a psychotic break, my thinking also becomes fractured and i can't make sense of my reality, so i'd like to think i can tell the difference between a paranormal experience and psychosis when reflecting. part of me also suspects i have mental illness because of the influence the being i identify with has over me.

ten years ago, my older brother took me to a witch shop after hours to participate in a ritual to "greet the archangels". my older brother and i were both into the occult and paganism, and at the time i worshipped a moon goddess to whom i had an altar for in my loft. this was my first time at a public ritual.

during the ritual, the priestess would ask us to turn to face north, south, etc and we would ask one of the archangels associated with that direction to aid us in our lives. when we turned to greet Michael, we were supposed to ask him to give us strength.

i heard a voice laugh, it was from inside of me but not my own inner dialogue, and he sneered and said toward Michael, "i don't need your strength". i felt a "heat" like fury come toward me that i believed was Michael, and i panicked and said sorry. i was in a cold sweat the rest of the night and tried telling my brother about it later. he was upset at me when i told him, and it was difficult to try and tell him that it wasn't me who said those things to Michael.

i kept feeling like something was there with me after that, both inside and outside of me.

i started researching beings that might be adversaries of Michael. it's been a while now, and i only remember fragments, but i remember speaking to a woman who suggested the name Samael to me. and i believe it is Samael.

when i connect to this piece of myself, i feel unstoppable and manic. it's a feeling that quickly spreads over me and feels like electric shocks running along my bones. it's starts from the ground up, into my feet and up my legs, grows heavy in my stomach and spreads up into my throat, and it feels amazing.

i ended up going to college next to downtown Salem MA, and every weekend i frequented the witch shops there. i ended up befriending a woman who ran one small store, as i was friends with her niece from my hometown and we got along so well. she was a wonderful mentor.

one evening i was in her shop telling her about Samael, but i wasn't using his name. i tend to avoid using his name out loud because it draws him out, and it can be overwhelming. but a man came into the shop in the middle of this, who interrupted our conversation and started talking about himself to my friend. he was a rude, self-obsessed neckbeard type. he began talking about what he believed in and brought up Samael's name.

he told us that Samael loves him so much, and is always there to protect him and cares about him especially. the more he spoke, the more the shop began to heat up. it was like the place was filling up with wrath and i felt like i was going blind, insane, and was sweating uncontrollably. i was full of disgust for him and his ego.

he finally left and my friend turned to me, and confirmed she also felt the awful heat filling the shop, and that something felt terribly off about what just happened. i told her he had been talking about the same angel i had just been telling her about, but hadn't used his name.

in more recent memory, i was joking to my boyfriend that if i am indeed his shard, then i wonder how something like that would work. are shards chosen, or happen by mistake? i told him i didn't feel like any sort of worthy vessel and that it would suck to be stuck with my fucked up ass. this didn't sit well with him, whether it was demeaning myself or demeaning him through doing so, and i felt like i had been slapped in the face. i told my boyfriend i couldn't speak on him anymore that day.

i also feel like all my life i've struggled with two halves of myself. one that was me, and the other a greater, darker, meaner force that made me feel drunk and massive, and was capable of terrifying things. i wouldn't say now it's bad, or inherently evil, and i think i had a lot of things to learn from that part of myself. over time i feel like i've become more whole and less separated. i have felt like i've had to fight against another 'nature'.

there's other little things, such as the archetype of being an "adversary" or "accuser". if i had to describe my relation to so many others, it would be that. i don't know what it is about me that's so polarizing to others, but i draw in certain kinds of people who seem to go off the walls around me, and they bring out the worst in me. it's driven me crazy on countless occasions.

i think it's also relevant that these people tend to be scorpio suns. i don't put much thought into astrology, but it's bizarre that every adversary is a scorpio. my sun sign is Aries, as Samael rules Mars but also has some influence in Scorpio. i bring out the worst in them, and they bring out the worst in me and i confront a frightening amount of shit through it. this hasn't just happened just a couple of times either, it's been at least seven instances. this has dragged me into the lives of rapists, abusers, fucking cult leaders even.

i've hesitated many times to call myself an angel, because that's not exactly it, and i feel bizarre saying that about myself. i don't quite get the difference between a shard and being incarnate either. he's both inside and outside me. i think that would be shard?

i have a lot of thoughts about what Samael means in the universe, who he is, and i've been reading Kabbalistic texts to try and piece together more of my understanding about, everything. but i'll save some of that for another time.

if you read all of this, thanks. if you have any advice, or can relate, or are struggling with knowing your place among angels, i would love to talk with you.

#angelkin #demonkin #alterhuman #divinekin #otherkin #othershards #shards #samael #archangels #angels #otherhearted #spirits #paranormal #witchcraft #psycho thots

36 notes · View notes

beskar33 · 3 months

Text

📌

Su'cuyyy. I go by Beskar on the interwebz💚he/it 26yrs old, semi-ficto, gay & arospec, French-Moroccan(Shilah Berberⵣ), currently living in the Southern USA.

Legally blind, recovering addict, autistic as fuck & chronically lovesick. je parle français / ni jorhaa'i mando'a

✌️&❤️ to everyone!

More about me & this blog;

🌿 Honestly, I only use the term F/O online; Boba is my partner in life...my rotten soldier...my sweet cheese❤️ He's been with me for many years, and he's like a part of me & has helped me through so much. I sincerely consider him to be my soulmate & one of my best friends :') We officially got together summer of 2017, and we've been married since 12/12/2020. I'm not ok with sharing, as this is very much a "real" relationship for me & he's my actual partner. Thanks for your understanding.

🌿 Don't have much of a DNI but, at the risk of sounding a bit sensitive, please don't follow/interact if you ship romantically with/crush on Bo, or if you frequently interact with someone who does. No hate whatsoever, it just makes me uncomfortable because I love him as I would any partner IRL and treat our relationship as such.

Be 18+ and be nice, I guess. If you're shipping w/ minors, we probably won't get along too well, just sayin'. This blog won't get too NSFW but there might be some suggestive stuff here n' there. Also, I cuss like a sailor, jsyk

🌿 I love people, but I'm extremely awkward/shy and as of late, my personal life is somewhat hectic so I'm often busy or overwhelmed lol. It might take me a bit to get back to you, but I truly, deeply appreciate every single kind interaction and message I get & promise I ain't ignoring you

🌿 Not a fan of discourse, drama, or rude/mean people; been through way too much real shit in my time on this planet to care what folks say or do in their personal lives, especially strangers online. This blog has quickly become one of my little sanctuaries and I try to keep it positive, as I do with most areas of my life. If I don't like your energy, I'll just block/ignore, no hard feelings.

🌿 By the way, for those outside the community who might see this, I'm pretty effin' confident in who I am, and that includes my identity/relationship. You're free to interact/follow if you'd like, just be kind. Didn't go through years of therapy to feel shame over something that's brought joy, creativity, love, and comfort to my life since I was a child. Hate will always be deleted without acknowledgement, so by all means, throw a lil tantrum in my inbox while I continue to cultivate good vibes😌💋

🌿 Some of my interests outside of Star Wars & kissing my husband include: practicing yoga, Star Trek, DCSS, ancient Greek historical fiction, creative writing, hiking/camping, singing, and drinking dangerous amounts of caffeine

sideblogs & tags;

positivity/spirituality: @suumcanara

NSFW: @bevika

OG posts+asks: #💬 beskar.txt

OG writing: #✏️ beskawrites.doc

OG art: #🎨 beskart.jpg

positivity: #☀️ good vibes

favorites: #fav

disability: #blind fury posting hours

homeless adventures: nomad tales

imagines n' stuff: #❤️💭 daydreams

music: #🎶 jam sesh

gush posts: #💌

mandalorian culture: #⚔️ oya manda

self-insert: #🪡 bev tag

my love: #🔥 bo tag

ship: #💉💥| BoBev

#some spring cleaning hehe #new pinned post yayy #nice to meet y'all hope everyone's doing well<3 #ficto community #fictoromantic #self ship #self ship community #self shipping #fictosexual #self shipping community #f/o community #some of my tags are still a bit messed up but hey!

12 notes · View notes

flower-seller · 9 months

Text

So per Salem’s request, I was asked to share a snippet of my own from our Lord Arcanine battle rp because that shit was insane GEHDBDND God I loved every bit of it though, it was so hype I will not lie.

For the context a bit, Volo was with another ginkgo at the time of the battle breaking out (Salem’s oc Kanata we love Kanata so much in this house) but the poor kid kinda got dragged into the battlefield just a bit. With Euph having just kicked the Lord directly in the face, this is Volo’s reaction and subsequent actions that really threw this particular fight for a loop

While this isn’t exactly the most “just some guy” post, I feel it does showcase a little bit of his quirks here and there. There is another snippet I’d love to post from this particular rp as well but perhaps in another post sometime (I’m too shy for this BSBDBJDJD)

Volo and Kanata ran as fast as they could, Volo’s hand a vice grip of fear around the boy’s wrists as the clear sounds of battle raged just ahead.

Please please please—

Volo needed her to be ok. He wasn’t gone long. He wasn’t gone long, but he had left her. He wouldn’t forgive himself for that. The wall came into view, and right as they approached it, Volo heard the gut wrenching wail chill the air around him.

“Fuck!”

He was only gone a second!

Volo shoved past the wall, and his eye widened. Euphorbia had thrown herself into the lord’s jaws. His heart stopped completely, terror filling him, freezing him solid even as Kanata crashed into him from behind. The seconds felt like hours, watching her twist her form around so cleanly, so practiced…

She… Kicked the lord.

He could hear the impact from his position, and watched in awe at the incredible power Euphorbia displayed in that one swift blow. He watched the way her hair flowed behind her like a crashing wave against the raging inferno. The fierce expression she wore, that of pure fury to rival even the frenzy of the lord himself. He watched as she landed it skillfully. He watched her body heave from the exertion, her chest rising and falling with counted breaths.

“Volo!” Kanata shook the elder ginkgo by the arm, snapping him out of whatever momentary daze had overcome him, “You’ve got a plan, right?!”

… Plan.

“I-I…,” He hadn’t thought of one. But he opened his mouth as if to speak regardless. What came out wasn’t what he’d planned to say either.

“EUPHORBIA!” Volo screamed suddenly, watching in horror as she was tossed into the air, fire raking up her arm. He had no plan, but he didn’t need one. He was already moving, darting forward with one hand locked around Kanata, and the other reaching into his pocket. Volo pulled out a pokeball and threw it forward. He jumped up, dragging the younger merchant into the air with him.

“RrraaAAAH!” Exploding from the blinding light, Volo’s own Arcanine burst from her pokeball. His clawed hand grasped her mane tightly, landing upon her back as she surged ahead at an incredible speed.

“Holy SHIT!” Kanata gasped as he was pulled onto the sudden mount. He clung to Volo’s back as if he were the other man’s pack itself. They rushed up the side of the volcano itself, his Arcanine pushing off of the crater’s lip to leap into the air after Euphorbia. Volo released his hold of the canine’s mane to reach for Euphorbia herself.

He caught her in his arms, and clung to her tightly as they landed with an earth shaking impact of their own. For only a second was Volo able to hold Euphorbia close to himself before he, with a shuddering gasp of his own, passed her into the arms of Kanata. Arcanine lowered herself as Volo let the boy off upon the plateau.

“Get her to safety. I’ll keep the lord occupied,” Volo announced with determination himself. Without another word to the boy, he tugged at his pokemon’s mane and the pair bolted back to the fight below.

“Arcanine! Rockslide!” He commanded as they ran down the mountain’s side. His loyal companion barked in acknowledgement, her own paws slamming down against the volcano with even more force than before as she thrashed about herself. She stirred the loose rocks from the land, willing them into rolling down alongside her. The pair rapidly approached the arena once more, and Volo released his hold of his pokemon, allowing himself to fall back off of her as she rushed ahead like a boulder herself.

Volo hit the rocky ground unceremoniously, the wind rushing from his lungs as his back made contact. He didn’t let that stop him though as he quickly flipped over and pushed up off of the ground in time to watch as his arcanine crashed into the lord for a solid and rumbling impact, followed by a pelting of large rocks. The two dogs fell into the lava, sending up a big splash up in their corner.

“Twolo! Get Chamerion out of here!” He pleaded in a half wheeze. A hand already clutching his chest. The little jolteon stared at Volo for only a second before he was racing off towards the knocked out little fire type. The eeveelution grabbed Chamerion by the scruff and was quick to run the way Volo had come from now that the path had been cleared.

Volo pushed off of the ground, panting himself for a moment before he removed his hat and tossed it aside. He wasn’t fucking around this time.

#noodle flowerseller #pokemon legends arceus #volo #flowerseller: volo #flowerseller writing #pla volo #god this whole battle was so badass for the both of them #truly insane #they popped the fuck off

4 notes · View notes

ahollowgrave · 2 years

Text

Channel: noun: a hollow bed for a natural or artificial waterway. // a ruined temple, a hidden channel.

The temple the convent uses is mostly ruined. The nuns do not live there, as they would in turns gone by, but make the journey from a separate set of forgotten buildings. Old stables, you think, from the ancient scent of hay and animal that is embedded in the stone.

You have asked the Mother why the temple is allowed to remain in ruin and she dismissed you in the practiced way of an adult who is used to being listened to.

She said: “There is nothing important there, Little Lamb.”

She meant: “Leave it alone, Odette.”

You heard: “I have no idea, wise novice, perhaps you should explore it.”

You heard: “I don’t know but I am an adult so I am pretending I know.”

You heard: “It’s where we keep all the berries you picked and we eat them when you’re asleep.”

You nodded demurely - you have learned how to be demure - and let it lay.

It is not a long walk, between the buildings you and the others stay in and the Temple. It seems terrible and unbearably long when you walk it alone, in the midnight hours. (You do not yet realize that you are not alone. The full moon hung above you, that night, its light fighting through the canopy.) The older sisters - the actual Sisters - have gone to the temple for some late-night ritual. You can hear their singing in the distance; you will always adore the sound of voices lifted in song.

The temple doors have rotted away some time ago, or perhaps they never existed at all. The Mother said they do not need doors, for the temple, like their arms, are open to all in the name of love. It serves you well, for it is easy enough to slip into the dimly lit entrance hall. They are all further inside, in a chamber you know to be filled with the full force of the moon overhead.

They are still singing.

You know exactly where you are going. To a point, at least.

A large pool of water has flooded one side of a once massive foyer. Unlike the other flooded parts of the temple, which hold murky water that reeks of stillness, the water here is breathtakingly clear. Aquatic plants flourish both below the surface and above it, and small fish dart between them; flashes of silver-like stars. On its clearest days, you can see what remains of a doorway, the rest of the wall lost to the Shroud’s reclamation efforts.

You sink into the water as quickly and quietly as you can. You do not register the cold until your head is beneath the surface and so you swallow the yelp before you lose your breath. Thankfully your legs do not need much motivation and soon you are pulling yourself through a narrow channel in the wall; the top post part of an arch. Moonlight pierces the water beyond, like lances placed by a divine hand.

As your head breaks you are greeted by a few curious sounds: A scoff. A snort. The sound of gil exchanging hands. Small noises but they echo in this vast space. The moonlight is nearly blinding and it takes a moment but eventually, you see them; two figures on the bank.

Your heart plummets down into your boots.

The Mother and her right-hand Sister stand, waiting for you with towels.

You barely have time to get a good look at this room - it is another worship hall, as big as the one in use currently by the other Sisters. Unlike that room, however, this one is free of vines that obscure the walls. Large stained glass windows cover the majority of the walls, and though some parts are damaged or just plain missing, even in your quick glance you can tell who they portray.

A beautiful woman with a wing helmet and a spear.

Halone, the fury. Her name is whispered in the back of your mind by a voice so filled with love and adoration that it makes your own heart flutter in anticipation.

#FFxivWrite2022 #FFXIVWrite #Odette Hollows #This one got long sorry ;--;#pigeon writing

9 notes · View notes

brn1029 · 2 years

Text

Hmmmmm….on this date in history. If you were listening I hoped you were interested in the couple of songs we played…

June 15th

1958 - Oh Boy!

The first teenage all-music TV show Oh Boy!, was broadcast for the first time in the UK. Each week Oh Boy! featured resident artists plus a selection of special guests. The residents included Cuddly Dudley, who sang on 21 shows, Cliff Richard (20 shows), The Drifters (Later to become The Shadows) (17 shows) and Marty Wilde (17 shows). Guests included Billy Fury, Tony Sheridan, Shirley Bassey and Lonnie Donegan; with occasional US stars, such as The Inkspots, Conway Twitty and Brenda Lee.

1963 - Kyu Sakamoto

Kyu Sakamoto started a three week run at No.1 on the US singles chart with 'Sukiyaki', the first-ever Japanese song to do so. It made No.6 on the UK chart in 1963 and was also a No.10 UK single for Kenny Ball in the same year.

1969 - Led Zeppelin

During a short 5 date UK tour Led Zeppelin appeared at The Free Trade Hall, Manchester, England supported by Blodwyn Pig and The Liverpool Scene. The flyer for the tour stated: 'Come & take off, levitate with the Led Zeppelin album'.

1973 - Marvin Gaye

Motown Records released ‘Let's Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye. The track became Gaye's most successful single for Motown and one of his most well-known songs, with the help of the song's sexually explicit content.

1974 - Abba

ABBA's second album (but first UK release), 'Waterloo' entered the UK chart for the first time peaking at No.28. The album's title track won ABBA the 1974 Eurovision Song Contest.

1985 - Dire Straits

Dire Straits started a nine-week run at No.1 on the US album chart with, Brothers In Arms. The album is the seventh best-selling album in UK chart history and won two Grammy Awards at the 28th Grammy Awards, and also won Best British Album at the 1987 Brit Awards.

1988 - Bruce Springsteen

During Bruce Springsteen's stay in Rome during a world tour a photographer took a shot of Bruce in his underpants sharing an intimate moment with his backing singer Patti Scialfa. The picture confirmed the rumours that Bruce and Patti were having an affair.

1996 - Ella Fitzgerald

US jazz singer Ella Fitzgerald died in Beverly Hills, California, aged 79. Already blinded by the effects of diabetes, Fitzgerald had both her legs amputated in 1993. Winner of 13 Grammy Awards, the 1956 'Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook' was the first of eight "Songbook" sets. Appeared in the TV commercial for Memorex, where she sang a note that shattered a glass while being recorded on a Memorex cassette tape. The tape was played back and the recording also broke the glass, asking "Is it live, or is it Memorex"

2002 - The Beatles

A rare autographed copy of The Beatles' album Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band sold at auction for £34,000 ($57,800), more than five times the estimated price.

2008 - Liverpool

Liverpool was voted England's most musical city in a national campaign set up by the Arts Council. The home of The Beatles Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark and The Zutons took 49% of the vote in an online poll set up by the funding body. Sheffield - which brought the world the Arctic Monkeys and Pulp - came second, while Manchester with Oasis, Stone Roses and The Smiths came third.

2010 - Elton John

A case against a man accused of threatening Elton John's life was withdrawn just hours before his trial was due to begin. Neal Horsley had responded to Elton's suggestion that Jesus Christ was gay in a Parade magazine interview by writing an angry online response entitled "Why Elton John Must Die". After being held in an Atlanta, Georgia jail since last March, Fulton County Superior Court Judge Kimberly Esmond Adams dismissed the case against Horsley because his actions did not warrant criminal charges.

2016 - Brian May

Brian May of Queen posted a note on his website objecting to Donald Trump's use of 'We Are The Champions' at campaign events. "Regardless of our views on Mr. Trump's platform, it has always been against our policy to allow Queen music to be used as a political campaigning tool," May wrote. The following month, Trump used the song as his entrance music when he made his first appearance at the Republican convention.

2016 - Jimmy Page

Led Zeppelin's guitarist Jimmy Page denied stealing the riff to 'Stairway To Heaven' when he took the stand at a copyright trial in the US. The band were accused of lifting the opening guitar line from 'Taurus', a 1968 track by the band Spirit. Page testified that he had never heard the song until people started posting comparisons online a few years ago. Page admitted to owning several Spirit albums, but only remembered buying two of them, neither of which contained Taurus. Under questioning, he conceded that he did own a copy of the band's self-titled debut, on which the track appears, but could not recall how it came to be part of his collection.

0 notes

romanoffsbish · 2 years

Text

… Live For Me

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Die For You… Previous Part

Nat's POV

As I ran into the hospital, looking absolutely insane, nurses ran towards my shouting.

They immediately took Y/N back to emergency surgery, and then I found myself alone to drown in my thoughts.

This mission that just got us here only ever happened because of me. I caused her to run, I yelled at her to leave me alone, and then I couldn't even survive 24 hours without some contact. Talk about clingy...

Before I spiral out I realize I should text Fury, and the team. However, my phone is dead, so I have to use Y/N's. Before I unlock it I take a second to look at her lock screen. It's a candid photo she had taken of me surrounded by cats on our third date.

"Natty!" Y/N shouts from the living room of the compound.

"Yes detka?" I shout back from the kitchen where I had been making a post workout smoothie.

"Go get ready, I'm taking you on a date, a very special one if I might add." Y/N excitedly says as we meet in the middle.

"Where are we —." I try to ask

"No! It's a surprise. Meet me at the car in an hour." She ushers out, placing a gentle kiss to my cheek and running off a giggling mess, preventing me from pushing any further.

—————

"Close your eyes Natty." Y/N says as we approach our secret destination.

"No.." I whine.

"Then I guess I can just turn around and cut this date short." She teases.

"No!" I shout, then reluctantly close my eyes, not before catching the smirk forming on her face.

She parked the car, and gently helped me out while placing a hand over my closed eyes to prevent me from peaking.

Y/N wraps her left arm around my waist and walks us forward until she brings us to a stop.

"Ta-da!" She whisper shouts, removing her right hand, and motioning towards a cafe.

I stand there confused, she brought me out for coffee and acted like it was a super sacred place.

"Coffee?" I question, then immediately cringe at my lackluster tone, and instantly regret my approach.

She chuckles in response, and reaches over me to open the door.

"No-no. Not just coffee... It's coffee and —."

"Cats!" I gasp out at the sight, cutting Y/N off.

The cafe was outstanding, then there were several secluded corners full of bookshelves, with comfy seating, and most importantly the building is flooded with cats.

Cats of all types: chonky boys, fluffy girls, some of them were missing limbs, some blind, then there were pigmy cats. My God, my heart burst at the sight.

"Detka, this is just perfect. Thank you so much for keeping it a surprise, even with all my begging." I say grateful, gripping her hand impossibly tight.

"Of course Natty, this place was a tough find, but once I heard about it I knew it was an experience you had to have." She replied, guiding me into the building.

"Go find us a spot and I'll get our coffee." She commands with a kiss to my cheek, and a slight shove.

She doesn't have to tell me twice! I found a collection of cats huddled together and I gingerly approached them. I sat myself in the middle and a chunky calico found its way into my lap and I was in heaven.

It was in this moment that I realized how inconvenient it is to only have two hands, it'll never be enough.

I was in such a calm and serene state that I didn't see my beautiful y/h/c snapping photos.

"Here's your cup of joe." Y/N faux gags, interrupting my serene state.

"Hate all you want, but being plain is much better than insane like you with your cup of sugar." I reply

She rolled her eyes and picked up a beautiful pigmy cat, and she held it up in front of her, and then bumped noses with it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/N has always had me pegged, because had it only been coffee I would've been just as excited. I was only so initially lackluster because her secrecy and enthusiasm about a coffee shop had confused me.

All moments with her were special to me, I'm still not sure how we ended up where we are now in the first place.

The addition of the cats on this date just solidified to me how in she was. She had still been so hesitant at this stage in our relationship, but her walls were slowly breaking down for me.

Jesus, here I am getting distracted, granted it's a welcome distraction to remember happy memories. At the same time though she's going to be okay so reminiscing is not really warranted...

I entered our anniversary into her phone to unlock it and it worked, bringing me a sense of relief.

However, the list of contacts just plunged me back into a sense of chaos. I basically have to decode this list, and it's honestly offensive. She seems to have ranked us, and some got really offensive names.

My girlfriend is honestly insane, but the list actually seemed pretty self explanatory. So I called "Goose's Bitch," to inform him he's an idiot and of Y/N's condition. Then I texted the group chat a simple "We're at *sends location*, Y/N's in critical condition. Will update you when I know something."

Then I moved on to "The Better Widow." Very offensive, and now that I think of it I'm sure Lena's the one who helped Y/N create these contact names.

"Hello? Y/N? Are you okay? What did Natalia do this time?" I hear Yelena speak into the phone.

I clear my throat to make it clear that it's not Y/N and indeed me.

"A lot actually... I really messed up Lena." I reply, not even trying to keep my resolve up.

"Where are you Natasha?" Yelena asks, and I can hear the anxiety in her voice.

"*Your local* Hospital."

"I'm on my way!" Yelena shouts, then disconnects the phone.

Y/N and Yelena have been the best of friends since we took the Red Room down together. It's literally made me the happiest to know how much they genuinely love each other, and the lengths they would go to, to protect one another. However, it's also led me to many horrible messes that I was expected to clean up ...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I walked into the living room to see Y/N cuddled up to Yelena, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight. My sister and the love of my life being that close fills me with glee, especially when Yelena's not one for physical contact. Then the happiness I was feeling faded into deep worry when I saw guilt swirling around in Yelena's eyes. Then I notice the unconscious state my girlfriend is in.

"Shit! ... Y/N/N, wake up."

"You weren't supposed to drink that."

"Nat's going to kill me.."

I cleared my throat and I could see Yelena's body stiffen.

"Natasha." She whispers while jumping up and facing me in a defensive stance. As she stands I see Y/N topple over and the sense of worry deepens.

"Yelena, explain to me why my girlfriend's unconscious and at a loss for control of her motor functions."

"Well, you see, I might've made a dangerous concoction of booze in the hopes that Bucky and Cap would be shit-faced tonight. You know since they don't really feel the affects by nursing their beers. So, I mixed God knows what up and funneled it into the beers they usually drink. Not expecting anyone else to touch them. I walked into the living room, and saw Y/N had downed two of them, and then she was a goner." Yelena stumbles over her words.

"You are an idiot... Y/N better be okay!" I shout while carrying Y/N to the medbay and giving her IV fluids.

After an hour of waiting I hear Y/N groan, and then hiccup.

"Detka, are you okay?" I rush out as I make my way to her.

She looks at me like a deer caught in headlights, then she began to sob. Before I could even try to console her, her sobs morphed into giggles, and then she was back to hiccuping.

Definitely NOT okay...

"Hey, can I tell you a secret?" Y/N 'whispers' to me.

"Yeah, of course." I actually whisper back, smirking down at her as I'm preparing for her to unintentionally snitch on herself.

"Okay, just don't tell Natty." She giggles, oblivious to her surroundings, and begins spilling the beans.

"Last week, Yelena told me to help her pull a prank on Bucky. I told her it was a bad idea, but I can never say no and disappoint my little blondie. So, we stole Bucky's arm from Tony's lab, since he had been repairing it. She snuck Peter in to help her rewire it. So, at the party on Friday, they're going to have it programmed to fight himself." She giggles out mischievously.

Oh shit... Today's Friday, and said parties currently taking place.

I kissed Y/N on her forehead, then told Friday to make sure she doesn't get into trouble. To ensure it I handcuffed her to the bed.

I walked into the party and looked around, it appeared normal at first. Then I saw Cap and Bucky, and they were actually shitfaced, so Yelena's plan worked. If it didn't cause Y/N any problems, like potential liver failure, I would actually find this sight hilarious.

Then, within the blink of an eye I saw Peter and Yelena in a corner in a fit of giggles, then I witnessed Bucky punch himself in the face.

I was too late, so I slowly left, making sure there was no trace of me there to begin with.

They can handle themselves, I already had one drunk lunatic to handle. Plus, who knows what else she might say if I stay...

——————

"Natasha!" I hear Clint shout, clearly angry and apparently about to make it my problem..

"What?" I question frustratedly.

"Your sister and girlfriend have a death wish is what!" He seethes

At that I finally look up from my book, and though I'm trained to stay stoic, I can't fight the need to burst out laughing.

"Oh God.. Clint.. What.. What happened?" I mutter out through my laughter.

"Ask your children." He growls and walks out in search of them.

I compose myself, and decide I'll watch the footage of today's events before I do anything else.

"Friday, playback the footage of whatever it is Y/N and Yelena did to Clint today please." I instructed the AI.

"Of course Miss Romanoff."

The footage starts with Yelena whispering to Y/N, and then Y/N throwing her head back, then attempting to shake it to say no.

Then she eventually concedes, and is dragged to the weapons room by an eager Yelena.

Yelena's basically the little devil on Y/N's shoulder.

I'm not able to see what they do exactly, but I can see Y/N standing guard while Yel's tampering with his specific weaponry.

Then Friday cuts to the next clip, where I find Y/N, Yelena, and Clint in the compound's gym. Clint's at the archery station preparing to train. Y/N and Yel are tucked away in the corner with a camera of their own, and wearing lab gear on their face, and a poncho.

He's a trained spy, and doesn't see them?

At this point this is on him.

3. Clint aims

2. He pulls back

1. He shoots

BOOM

Then the next thing I see is him being thrown back by a strong blast. Then the cloud forming around him is hues of pink and purple. He jumps up, and storms off, a cloud of pink and purple glitter following him as he does.

I close my laptop, and open my book back up.

Like I said, he's a spy, this is on him. He can handle it...

——————

Their litany of pranks is never ending. They put dye in Peter's webs, they once switched the salt and sugar around—never trying anything like that again though, Wanda handled them. They once hacked Friday, and made her speak and only respond to Russian, it took Tony hours to override them. Once, Y/N took Mjolnir, and hid it from Thor. He was too drunk to think to call it, and he began to wail like a baby.. She felt bad after that one and returned it along with a box of his favorite pop tarts. At least my girl is worthy...

It was clear that no one was safe, well except me—they wouldn't dare.

Most of the pranks would end in me scolding Y/N, but then she'd pout, and I'd find myself mad at whoever it was that snitched on her. She was my precious baby, who could do no wrong!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Natasha!" Yelena whisper shouts, while waving her hand in my face, snapping me out of my endless memories.

I looked up at her with teary eyes and a pout.

"You look like shit." She mutters before pulling me up and into a hug.

"Shh.. моя сестра. I got you, Y/N's going to be okay. She's too stubborn, and loyal to die."

"Yelena.. What if.."

"No!" She coldly asserts.

"She doesn't get to leave us. It's against my rules. Y/N has to outlive us, I won't survive that loss, and neither would you." She continues, doing her best not to break.

I just break out into a full sob, knowing she's completely right, and Yelena just holds me tighter in response.

"Miss Romanoff? You're here for Y/N Y/L/N correct?" The nurse says as she approaches us.

Yelena and I immediately unravel from one another and turn to face her.

"Yes we are!" Yelena states, speaking for me when I clearly can't.

"Follow me please, surgery went decently, she's stable, but she is still unconscious."

Yelena and the nurse begin to walk away, it takes me an additional ten seconds to register what was said and I then sprint forward to catch up.

As I walk in I see Yel with two fingers to Y/N's pulse point, and her eyes locked on her chest. Clearly not trusting the nurse or the machines to be truthful.

"She's alive." Yelena whispers in confirmation, doing her best to keep it together.

I make my way towards Y/N, and pull a chair up to her bed.

I moved the hair out of her face, and just took her relaxed features in.

"Detka, I need you to wake up please. You don't get to just die on me." I whisper in her ear, then move up to kiss her forehead.

"Or me, ." Yel adds, and lightly punches her arm.

"Hey! Don't touch my baby." I growl.

She rolled her eyes, then she grabbed onto Y/N's other hand, and kept her eyes focused on the rise and fall of her chest.

"We still have to finish our ever growing list of pranks Y/N/N. Like sledding with Cap's shield, and hacking Sam's wings.. We have so much left to do together." I hear Yelena whisper, and see the single tear running down her cheek.

I lock eyes with Yelena, and can see the desperation in her eyes, it matches mine.

"We're not done yet baby... I haven't been able to switch your ring to a more permanent fit. We haven't even scratched the surface of our lives together. We still need to get married, well engaged, then married. We need to get that cabin in the woods we always used to talk about. Then we obviously have to go get our cats from the cafe. Then there's that family we are meant to start, or should I say add on to. You, and Yelena are my family.

Our story doesn't end here moya lyubov. Please, live for me..."

"Us!" Yel interjects, while reaching for Y/N's pudding cup and receiving a glare and slap to the hand from me.

"Don't you dare." I growl.

"Watch me!" Yel challenges.

Y/N's POV

"Put the pudding cup down!" I vaguely hear someone growl, as I am coming to.

"Why? It's not like it's of much use sitting there, and I'm hungry." I hear more clearly, it's my devious blonde bestie.

"It's for Y/N is why! When she wakes up soon, she'll be hungry and she can't eat much else. Go to the cafeteria if you are hungry. " I hear my beautiful redhead scolding her.

I just listen to them bickering, finding it amusing like always. Then I hear a crash and instinctively try to sit up to see what's wrong.

Big mistake, because all that gets me is a sharp pain surging through my body, and a groan falling past my lips.

I hear scuffling and am soon met with my girlfriends concerned face, and my guilty best friends who's covered in chocolate hovering above me.

"Detka? How do you feel? Don't try to move again. I'll go get a nurse!" Nat frantically says, but before she goes I grasp her wrist to halt her.

I intertwine our fingers to keep her there, then I glare at Yel, and she looks panicked. I nod to the water and she frantically gets me a cup and aides me with drinking it.

"I'm tired Natty. I don't want this anymore."

I mumble, trying to catch my breath.

I can see the fear in her eyes, so I gulp more water down, catch my breath, then I continue with a squeeze to her hand.

"Calm down love." I say with a squeeze to her hand.

"I just want more than this constant fighting, and the paperwork. I want to live Natty, I want to be selfish, I just want more and I want it all with you." I croak out.

"Not you though, you pudding thief." I add on, playfully glaring at Yel.

"I'll go get more." Yel quietly mumbles with a pout, and I squeeze her hand reassuringly as she walks out.

Nat doesn't reply, she just stares at me, but I can see the gears turning. I think she might just combust.

I pull my hand out of hers, and she snaps her attention to the movement. Before she can spaz out, I reach my hands to her face and gently cup it.

"Natty, breathe! It's a lot to consider." I say, stroking her cheeks with my thumb.

She reaches up to grasp my wrists, and gently places them back down. Then she lowers her face to mine and rests her forehead to mine, and sighs in relief.

"Don't move. Rest." She whispers.

After a minute of silence I can hear faint whimpers, but most importantly I can feel Nat's tears on my face.

"Natty.." I whisper against her lips as our faces are directly aligned.

Her eyes open and she stares back into mine intensely, and then she attaches her lips to mine in a gentle way. Before we got to the point where the urge to deepen it presented itself she pulled away, and I whined in response.

She pulled back slowly, chuckling lightly at my response. Then her face immediately turned soft, and her eyes were glossy and screaming with love and adoration.

"Marry me!" She states—not questions, and she does so with the brightest smile I've ever seen.

"Nat.." I hesitate.

"I'm serious Y/N/N! This is all I've ever wanted with you." She says while lifting my left hand up to her lips, and kissing my ring finger.

"Really? This isn't just because I almost—." I anxiously begin to question.

"Don't... Please.." She pleads with me to not even question such a thing, and I nod.

"Well, my answers yes, it would've been the same if you asked me last week, or the week before that, and so on." I beam, and she kisses me deeply, and while we're kissing I feel her slip my promise ring onto my left hand.

"Place holder" she mumbles against my lips, pulling back with a cheeky grin.

I scoot over slowly, and painfully in an attempt to make room for my fiancé.

She hesitated, but she slowly climbs into the spot I created for her. She reached her arm behind me and wraps it around my neck, then she kissed my temple.

"So, how do we do this?" I ask

"Well, we plan the wedding! I'm thinking outdoors, in the fall, and maybe we do it at Tony's Cabin. Then we start house hunting now, because we shouldn't live where we work anymore, it's not healthy. I'll also talk to Fury, you'll retire from Avenging and I'll get you a sweet position."

"You can possibly train the new recruits, or do whatever it is you please. I just know you like to keep busy, but you can be my live in wife if that's what you want." She laughs out, and winks at me.

"Outdoor weddings perfect Natty! We should keep it small, I don't need anything big, just you and me would even be fine." I agree

"I also think we need more than what a cabin can offer us. I'm thinking a four bedroom farm house, we can buy land near Clint. Not next door though, because Lord knows he'd be over all the time." I laugh out

"Four beds?" Nat questions with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well duh! There's our room, your office, Yelena's room, and our future fur babies and baby babies room." I say as if it's the most obvious thing.

Nat smiles wide at my dreams for us, and then she leans up on her elbows, turns her body, and places a kiss to my nose, then my lips.

"Sounds perfect." She mumbles while pulling back.

"Wait, did you hear me while you were under?"

She says while laying back down

"Bits and pieces, but I just simply remembered our cabin dreams."

"We can have both, we don't have to give up any dreams." She states seriously

"That's sweet love, but it sounds awfully expensive." I laugh out.

"Since we plan on having kids, both a house and cabin is probably not in the cards." I continue to rationalize.

"False! Kids means mean we definitely need a getaway. Tony will gift it to us." She deadpans.

"Oh, I'm sure he—."

Before I can continue Yel runs in, out of breath with her arms full of jello, ice cream cups, and different puddings.

"I'm back." She pants out

"Yeah, we see. Did you happen to steal the entire contents of a mini fridge?" Nat questions.

Yelena sheepishly nods in response.

"They were moving too slow, and running around me, so I took matters into my own hands." She replies, absolutely serious.

"Yel, it's a hospital, of course they're busy. My need for pudding didn't require you to become a doubled down thief." I deadpan

"Too late, it's been done. Now pick!" She states while dropping all the options onto the tray.

I just giggle in response, and point out the vanilla ice cream cup.

"Is that a ring?" Yelena gasps while looking at my hand.

"Mmhmm." I hum, enjoying the treat that Nat's spoon feeding me.

"Wait! You're tell me I missed the proposal? Unfair!" Yelena grumbles, while shoveling pudding into her pouting mouth.

"Life's unfair." I state with a smirk.

"Well, cheers." She shouts, clinking her pudding cup with our ice cream cups.

We fall into comfortable silence and as I found myself falling asleep on Nat's shoulder, I heard Yelena mumble.

"I better be the flower girl!" With a dramatic huff.

This right here is the beginning of the rest of our lives, and I'm happy to be going into it laughing my ass off.

—————————————————————

The Story of Us (Part 3)

3,974 words

214 notes · View notes

op-imaginesandmore · 3 years

Note

How would Issho/Fujitora, Doflamingo, Smoker, Arlong, and Gin react to their s/o dying in their arms? (human s/o for all of them including Arlong) Sorry there are so many the posts you've made so far I've enjoyed immensely. I love your style of writing! (:

I know it’s been *checks notes* actual years since I have touched this blog, but I kinda wanted to try my hand at a few of the asks I have in my inbox. I’m going to do just Smoker, and with each of the asks with multiple characters I will pick the one I am most comfortable with writing and go from there. I hope you like it! And also, to anyone who reads this and likes it, thank you! But my ask box will remain closed until…idk, probably a long time. I don’t want to get any one’s hopes about about anything.

Pairing: Smoker x GN!reader

Warnings: Angst, character death (you asked for it), mild descriptions of injury, mentions of blood, implied smut (mildest of spice), unbeta’d if that is a warning

***

The OP was supposed to be a simple one. Get in, do reconnaissance, stay under the radar, come back with what info they needed on the pirate crew, get out.

No one thought Big Mom herself was going to recognize Y/N, because you were good at your job. You had been spying for the government for years, you’d worked with Smoker as one of his subordinates, had infiltrated countless pirate crews, revolutionary bases, treasonous scum that thought they could get away with anything, and had always succeeded in your job.

Lay low, go unnoticed, get the info, come back to him. It was a perfectly organized system that was like clock work, each gear turning for the purpose of civilian protection, and justice.

Until now.

Blood soaked the beach he was kneeling on, who’s it was, he had no idea. Could be his, was probably the pirates’ that were scattered around the Vice-Admiral like debris after a storm, but what infuriated him most was it was most definitely yours.

Wheezes, broken and wet, escaped from your lips, swollen eyes looking up into stoic grey that was like looking into twin hurricanes. Anger, righteous and intense, swirled around with frustration, concern, grief, and an emotion you knew from your quiet moments between soft sheets and the hard planes of his body.

So gentle you barely felt it, he lifted you from the sand like something precious, your blood dripping down his arms and pooling beneath your broken body. Your eyes, swollen and bruised, squinted up at him and a soft smile cracked painfully across your lips.

“Hey handsome” you rasped, a cough that was soaked with blood spurting out. Smoker put a large hand through your matted hair, jaw clenching as he tightened his hold on you.

“I’m gonna get you to the ship’s infirmary” he seethed through his teeth, the usual multiple cigars he kept there like pacifiers long gone. He made to get up, but the cry that came from your lips was shrill and heartbreaking. He immediately stopped, holding you to his chest in a hold soft enough for a newborn.

“I know it hurts, but you need-“

“Do you remember Alabasta?”

Smoker stopped, looking down at your broken body that had the audacity to be giving him the smile that always managed to make his heart flutter in his chest like a crushing school girl’s. He swallowed thickly, not trusting his voice and opting for a nod.

“You were such a baby about Strawhat, I thought you were going to implode when he had his crew mate save your life.” You reached a trembling hand to his face, stroking the rough stubble of his jaw. Almost involuntarily, Smoker leaned into the soft touch, turning his head to kiss your palm as memories of their time on the desert island came to mind.

It had been the first time you had ever yelled at him, calling him reckless and blind. Telling him you were thankful for Strawhat, grateful he had saved his “stupid, sorry, ass” so you had the chance to give him a piece of your mind. He had retaliated with a practiced speech about being your superior, about how you should worry more about your job than what he was doing, how you shouldn’t talk to him like that.

Then you had the nerve to yell at him that you didn’t have a choice but to worry about him. When he yelled at you back about the why, instead of answering him you kissed him square on the mouth.

Their first kiss was in the moment, it was all teeth clacking and sudden and Smoker had been blindsided, but also hadn’t been. The two of you had been flirting with the line between officer and government agent for months at that point, subtle glances and bold, shameless flirting on your part had morphed into soft and subtle touches and hours of listening to you talk about everything and anything.

When the shock of it had worn off a second after you started kissing him, he hadn’t expected for himself to kiss you back. He had adjusted your chin, softened the kiss, and wrapped his arms possessively around your waist and lifted you, your legs wrapping around his own waist in a way that sent chills down his spine as he carried you to his desk. He set you down upon it, gentle as can be, but your legs stayed around his waist, his hips grinding into yours in a way that had him growling. Your lips had been like soft, plush, velvet on his own chapped ones, tongue sinful in its exploration, running against his to beg for entrance.

The two of you broke apart, you were panting, your face flush as you put your head on his chest and listened to the quick thumping of his heart. He smelled like a cigar, a hint of sweet fruit in a haze of earth and smoke that always managed to make your head spin. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you licked the taste of him from them.

“I worry about you because I care about you Smoker” you looked up at him, your eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the sunlight coming in through the porthole of his cabin “probably more than what’s appropriate for a working relationship, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.” You put your hand on his face, stroking the apple of his cheek in a way no one had ever dared touch him before “if you don’t want this though, we can stop right now and never talk about it a-“

Smoker was kissing you again, softer but with a passion that turned your whole body into jelly that molded into his. It was brief, too brief for your liking but he was looking at you with a smoldering gaze that promised more.

“We do this, we tell no one.” He said with conviction “I can’t have my subordinates thinking I have favorites, and fraternizing could get me and you in a lot of trouble.”

You nodded, understanding alighted in your eyes as you coyly bit your kiss swollen bottom lip.

“If that means I get to see your smoke powers at work in the bedroom, I’ll take an oath of silence”

He felt his body react, his hardened length against your thigh making you squeeze your legs together, bringing him impossibly closer.

Smoker’s chest tightened at the memory.

“I’m glad” you said, swollen gaze growing distant “that it all happened the way it did. The last year and a half has been the best of my life” another cough, violent and cracking in its intensity that it had you whimpering into Smokers chest, and his eyes were burning with the tears that were inevitable now.

“Y/N-“ Smoker started, the deep rumble of his voice cracking “baby, you’re gonna be fine, let’s just-“ he took a breath, steeling himself to try and lift you up again, but your head falling limp against his chest stopped him, made the breath leave his lungs and, for the first time in a very long time, Smoker felt true terror grip his careful self control.

“Y/N?” His voice, so unlike the commanding bass it usually was, soft and broken as the body he held “Y/N? Sweetheart c’mon, wake up” he shook you, your head lolling to one side and then the next awkwardly, before it rested back on his chest and Smoker realized your uneven breathing had stopped, the rasping, painful breaths gone quiet and the only sounds to be heard on the bloodied beach were Smoker’s own uneven hyperventilating “Y/N please! You-you can’t do this! Baby, c’mon-open those pretty eyes, please! Y/N? Y/N!”

He held on tight to your body as he slowly broke down, the tears running rivers down his face that had smudges of your blood on it from holding your body up to it, his face buried into your hair as if he could revive you if he held on a little tighter, begged a little harder to whatever god or devil would listen. His cries broke through the silence, their only companion the lapping of water against the sand and gore. He rocked back and forth, clinging to your lifeless body like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

That was how Tashigi found her Vice-Admiral, sobbing into your hair as he begged you to wake up. Her heart shattered into a million pieces, but she had to keep him moving, had to remind him of the duty he still held.

“Vice-Admiral Smoker?” She breathed, caution in her tone, heartbreak threatening to pull her under when his breath caught. He looked up at Tashigi with a tsunami of emotions that she had never seen him display. Heartbreak and grief worked in tandem to make the ever stoic and statuesque officer crumble to his knees.

“I’ve gathered the survivors of our platoon, we’re awaiting your orders, sir”

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Smoker looking down at his dead lover, the emotions that had been raging across his face draining from his being, and was replaced once again with the careful stoicism that his position required of him.

He got up slowly, you still cradled against his chest as he looked out at the horizon. It was another long moment before he spoke.

“We bury our dead, then we take the fight to the one who started this.” There was a fury in his words that struck fear into Tashigi, a fear for how reckless her Vice-Admiral was about to be against a Yonko.

“But Smo-“

“Did I fucking stutter?” He whipped his head around, the grey of his eyes burning with an unbridled rage that seemed barely contained “I’m not gonna rest until every last piece of filth that carries the name of Charlotte are wiped from every ocean from the East Blue to Raftel.” He glanced down at the body in his arms, a soft, broken look before the rage hit again.

“They’re gonna pay for what they’ve taken, I’ll make sure of it personally.”

#smoker #one piece #Smoker x reader #Smoker One Piece #angst #crying #character death #tashigi

149 notes · View notes