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egcdeath · 3 years

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finders keepers

summary: did captain america just steal your cat?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers

author’s note: it’s been way too long since i wrote some pure, self indulgent fluff. this has been quite the refreshing experience for me but i think it’s back to our regularly scheduled program after this ;)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Miso had an air of arrogance that you admired. She took the world by its kitty balls, doing whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. Your cat left the apartment for sometimes days at a time, and frequently led male cats to your door. To you, your cat was more like a roommate than a pet, hogging up most of your bed, standing on the counter while you attempted to make food for yourself, and leaving most areas dirtier than she originally found it.

Okay, maybe you were personifying your cat a little too much. But after moving out to D.C., you were unspeakably lonely. Most days, it felt like Miso was all you had, and that you were all Miso had (save for her army of cat boyfriends).

This made things all the more concerning for you when you’d realized that you hadn’t seen your cat companion in five days. Five whole days without the comforting vibration of her purr, her ungodly hours of wakeup calls demanding to be played with, or pet. The cherry on top was that the cat food outside your door appeared to be completely untouched.

In your frenzied realization of your missing cat, your mind raced with a thousand different terrible situations your dear Miso could’ve found herself in. You frantically clicked through pictures of her on an online album and attempted to find a photo that would capture her white fur with large blobs of auburn, and her vibrant blue eyes to put on your ‘MISSING’ sign. The longer you clicked, the more that you began to worry that she had been caught and kidnapped by some terrible person with bad intentions.

You finally threw together the poster, sending it to your phone so that you could print it off at the OfficeMax down the street. Luckily for you, you didn’t make it that far, as the moment you began to lock the closed door of your apartment, you saw the unmistakable figure of your cat.

In the arms of your neighbor.

Now, you’d never met Steve. He was an Avenger, Captain America to be exact, and you were just… you. You’d convinced yourself that attempting to introduce yourself to him would ultimately end in failure, and an embarrassing one at that. Maybe he’d scoff and walk away, or call Tony Stark in front of you and tell him about the crazy woman he just encountered.

But none of that mattered. Captain America was stealing your fucking cat.

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked, stepping away from your door and approaching the Greek God of a man to the right of you.

“Oh, hey! We must be n-“

“You have my cat,” you said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve seemed to do a double take

“My cat, y’know, the feline in your arms.”

“Well, maybe we just have similar looking cats. This is Arabella.”

You nearly scoffed at this, shaking your head. First, Captain America kidnapped your cat, and now he’s trying to convince you that it’s not your cat? Yeah, you’d know Miso from a mile away. And what kind of name is Arabella?

“Arabella is a great name for her,” Steve retorted, pulling the cat closer to his chest. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Well I think it’s time for Miso to come back home,” the cat’s ears perked at this, and she glanced over at you. The sight of you made her wiggle and hop out of Steve’s tight embrace, landing on her feet and trotting over to you. The damn cat rubbed her face against your calf and purred as if she hadn’t been cheating on you for long enough to have gained a new name.

You squatted down and rubbed the back of your hand against her cheek, and shook your head at your pet, “you’re getting put on probation, young lady.”

She didn’t seem to mind, pacing back and forth around you. You glanced up and saw Steve with a rather neutral expression on his face, as if he was masking whatever it was that he was feeling.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Uh, maybe I’ll see you both around sometime,” disappointment coated his every word before he opened up his apartment door and promptly closed it behind him.

You were surprised at how quickly he conceded, but you weren’t particularly mad about it either. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you never got your Miso back.

——

A whole day later, you’d been in your apartment typing up an email when a soft rapping at your door got your attention.

“Just a second!” you called, hopping up and hurrying to the door. When you opened it, Steve was standing in front of you, waiting with an oversized box in his hands.

“These are some of Ar- Miso?” he trailed off, waiting for you to confirm the name, and you gave him a tiny nod. “These are some of Miso’s toys. I just figured if she’s not staying at my place anymore…”

As if on cue, Miso strolled up to the door, and stretched her arms up on Steve’s leg, begging to be picked up. The man glanced at you for approval, and you gave a dismissive shrug before he set down the box, and held up the cat.

Steve frowned as he held her, and frankly, it pulled on your heart strings. You had to remind yourself that this man had been holding your cat captive for at least a week, and at most… who knows.

She clearly had a connection with him, and that was what intrigued you most. Miso was a very picky cat, and it was only occasionally that she found someone that she genuinely liked, let alone wanted to be picked up by. If you continued to watch the display of affection in front of you, you might just cave.

“Uh, I left something in the oven for a little too long, so I should probably go get that. Thanks for stopping by.”

Steve nodded, understanding that it was time for him to exit.

——

You should’ve seen this coming the minute Miso was back in your home. You stepped out of the shower one morning to find your front door slightly ajar, and your animal nowhere to be found.

You huffed, frustrated that just three days after you told yourself that your cat was completely indoor from that point on, she had escaped. She could literally be anywhere at this point.

In a whirlwind, you threw on a sweatshirt and pants, ready to go print out the missing posters that you had designed just a few days ago. As you slipped on sneakers, you realized something very crucial. She might just be at Steve’s place.

You groaned aloud, rubbing your temple as you thought of how difficult your cat was being. You were becoming a bit nervous to approach Steve, you hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start, and if your cat wasn’t there, things might just be awkward.

Regardless, you knew you needed to try, so you exited your own home, and knocked on the door of Steve’s.

A few moments later, he appeared with your cat in tow.

“Hey!” he paused and trailed off, “I never got your name before.”

“That’s what you care about right now?” you glanced down at your animal. “It’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Hi, Y/N. Miso and I were just enjoying breakfast, if you’d like to join us?”

Was Steve shooting his shot?

“I appreciate your offer, but I think I’m alright. I have to get back to work, and my cat is still in your custody,” your eyes flickered down to the animal who stood proudly by his side.

“Maybe some other time,” he shrugged. “You work from home?”

You nodded, then squatted down to get eye level with your cat.

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll stop bothering you now. Bye Miso, see you around, Y/N.”

You picked up your cat, who briefly dug her nails into the ground in resistance before submitting to her capture. As you brought her back home, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the right choice.

——

Ever since you’d discovered Miso, or Arabella’s secret life, it’s like you couldn’t stop noticing her connection to Steve.

Some days, she’d be gone until the dead of night, when she’d meow and paw at your front door until you woke up. Other times she’d be laying in bed with you, and she smelled distinctly of your neighbor. Your cat had single handedly turned a stranger into a thoroughly integrated part of your life.

It was as if Miso was now your child, and Steve your ex-husband in a Cold War style custody battle, where Miso seemed to prefer her father. It was slightly disheartening. At the very least, you knew she was in good hands.

You held a throw pillow to your chest while you watched a rerun of a sitcom on your television, procrastinating in your work for as long as you possibly could. The sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your trance, and as you peeked through the peephole of your door, you saw a slightly distorted Steve.

Opening up the door, you gave him just the faintest hint of a smile, “what’s up, neighbor? Need me to grab you some treats for Arabella, or something?”

“Kinda the opposite,” he gestured with his head down to the cat squirming in his hands. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for the next week or so. I just wanted to let you know that if Miso gets out, she’s not with me.”

Steve set her down on your carpet, and she happily collapsed at your feet, “keep her safe for me, alright?”

——

You took a deep breath as you approached his door, hoping he hadn’t left just yet. You fiddled with the sticky note containing your number, and polaroid photo of your cat in your hand, considering turning around and scrapping the idea all together.

It was silly to think that an Avenger would ever bother reaching out to you. You were probably overstepping anyway. Steve would think you were a freak and take full custody of your beloved Miso once and for all.

Going against your better judgment, you set down the polaroid-note combo and quickly slid it under Steve’s door. Whatever happened happened.

The next morning, you were pleased to receive a notification from an unknown number.

Send Miso pics?

You were more than happy to oblige.

——

Over the course of Steve’s week-long mission, you’d sent several pictures and videos of your cat doing random things. Trying to get on the table, sleeping on top of your dryer, and even playing with one of the toys Steve provided.

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t as dry of a texter as you thought he’d be. He was eating up all of the Miso content, and would occasionally even ask for you to send more photos.

The final night of his mission, you were surprised when you received a FaceTime request, at first writing it off as a technical error (he was from a different time period, after all), but the follow up call demonstrated his intentions.

You cautiously picked up, the knot in your stomach growing as you did so, “hello?”

“Hi!” Steve greeted optimistically, the phone just a bit too close to his face. “Any Miso sightings?”

“Yeah, she’s actually sleeping on my foot right now,” you chuckled, flipping the camera so you could show her off in your dim, lamp-lit bedroom.

“So cute,” he hummed, “how have you been?”

“Me?” you laughed quietly, “I’m not the one on a top secret mission in god-knows-where. But I’ve been fine. How are you?”

“Honestly? I’m pretty tired. Kinda can’t wait to get home and see you and Miso,” he said in a quieter voice.

Your brain stalled out for a second. Steve was excited to see you? You hoped that you were reading this the right way, as you were more than willing to go with whatever it was that Steve was putting down.

“We’ll be expecting an immediate visit from you, then. I’ll let Miso know that she needs to start kneading a bread loaf for you as soon as possible. Any idea of what time you’re getting into D.C.?”

“Probably late morning, but it really depends on when Natasha gets up.”

You had a moment where you realized that you were talking to a real life superhero, and he had just referenced his friend… who was also a superhero. You paused for a second.

“Y/N? Hey, you still here?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just zoned out for a sec. Well, you better get here safe or else someone is going to be very annoyed with you.”

Steve laughed softly across the line, and you adjusted yourself in bed, yawning softly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is over there,” Steve apologized.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. One of Miso’s boyfriends is pretty upset that he can’t come in here and spend the night with her.”

“Which one?”

“I think that grey one. I don’t really know what his voice sounds like, but she’s been leading him on lately,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from both you and Steve.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I don’t need you snoozing while I come to visit our girl.”

“You are something else, Steve Rogers,” you said fondly, adjusting your phone one last time as you hugged a pillow. “I’ll get to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You hung up, and cuddled into your pillow with a sigh. Calling your dreams that night sweet was an understatement.

——

You seemed to be Steve’s first stop after his mission, stopping at your door with his duffel bag still attached to his arm, and wearing a slightly dirty and much too small white t-shirt.

Expecting his presence, you quickly got the door and gave him a toothy grin.

“It’s so good to see your face without a screen,” Steve commented. Internally, you swooned.

“I could say the same for you, Steve.”

Miso had been summoned by the sound of Steve’s voice, practically sprinting to the door and meowing at him on the top of her lungs.

“Miso really appreciates you coming here to see her first,” you added as he lifted her up and quietly cooed into her wrinkly head. “Feel free to take her for the next few days. I’m sure she’s getting tired of me.”

Steve shook his head at you, and grinned, “that’s so sweet of you,” he briefly looked down at his wristwatch, and his brows raised.

“Shit. I have to go, but I promise to see you soon. I’m glad to see that everything is well. Take care, Y/N,” Steve began making his way back to his own apartment, and you watched him with the semblance of a frown.

You really needed to stop longing for the unobtainable.

——

You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few days following his return, and your brief interaction with him. Part of you wondered if he was avoiding you for some reason.

Your phone lit up the room as it went off, and you grabbed it to look at the notification you received.

A picture of Steve grinning with Miso sitting on his chest looked back at you with a simple message connected to it.

Wanna come over? :D

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction

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buckys-other-punk · 3 years

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Hold on..THIS IS YOU?!

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Request: where she is a fanfic writer and Sebastian stumbles upon her blog and messaged her as well not letting her know who he was but being an open person she is as to who she was, sending pictures and all, and until one day, decides to meet with her and she is surprised that it was the one she was writing for?

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: fluff, sarcasm (of course) and cussing? i think that’s all

A/N: Hello my lovelies. I am sorry I haven’t been posting as much, but that’s usually how I roll..no jk I legit had no time to write because of my classes this semester, so if this sucks I’m sorry lol. I’m still trying to get back into my writing groove...Also don’t mind my minor mistakes 😅

A/N 2: Anyways I AM BACK AND this is my first request ever!! I’m so excited to write this, I am soo sorry this took forever, but hope I did your request justice and that you like it (and so do others). I feel like I wrote this kinda cheesy, but whatever.

[Y/B/N = your blog name]

As always lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my future works and feedback is very much appreciated. Enjoy! <3

Just another normal day without stress and a less anxiety filled world...no, today was actually awful. You were swamped with work and your best friend was complaining about her boyfriend. Let’s just say that the stress she was having with him was making you feel happy that you were single. Trying to relax you heated up some coffee (a/n: or tea) and sat on the couch of your small apartment. Grabbing your laptop you wanted to unwind reading. Probably some fanfics on Tumblr usually does the trick.

After reading some pretty good marvel related fics by your mutuals, you got inspired to write some fics yourself. Opening up a new tab you began writing about your favorite actor, Sebastian Stan. That man literally makes your miserable day a little better. Sadly, like all the girls and women who fantasize over him, he doesn’t know you. But, whatever right? You can always use your imagination and conjure up a make believe world where the two of you are happily engaged and have a German Shepard puppy named Stitch. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you opened another tab on your laptop to pull up your writing playlist, you began typing away on your keyboard writing a new AU where you’re the celebrity of the world you were creating and he was a huge fan of you. After you finished your new fic, you posted that immediately without edits because you were so excited to see people read it.

*across town*

“Have you guys ever read any fanfiction about your characters or yourselves?” the interviewer asked the pair.

“You know I’ve seen a few that were quite impressive. These writers are damn creative.” Anthony replied with a smile. “I will also not lie. I’ve read a few steamy ones and y’all are dirty.” he added with a slight disgusted face shaking his head towards the camera.

“What about you Sebastian? Have you read any?” the interviewer lady asked, looking over to the man.

“Honestly. I haven’t.” Sebastian chuckled looking back at her. “Maybe, if Mackie here finds a good one about me I’ll give it a read.” shrugging towards his friend.

“Oh man, I got a few that are worth reading.” Mackie laughed, rubbing his hands together.

“Hey, might as well share them with the world. Let’s give that writer a shout out!” she exclaimed, placing her notecards on her lap.

“Well, like I’ve said I’ve only read a bit, but I do have some blogs that I’ve saved. Maybe next time I’ll name drop a few and give fans some well deserved praise.” Anthony smiled looking at the two.

“Alright, well you better have a huge list for me.” the lady said with a smile looking at Anthony. “Thank you both again for your time. For everyone watching Falcon and the Winter Soldier comes out in March 2021.” She finished off the interview smiling and waving at the camera and the two men followed her actions as well. Once the cameras and mics were turned off the lady came back to the two men.

“Thank you again guys for your time” the lady said to the pair shaking their hands (a/n: ok let's pretend there is no corona in this world so yeah. Everyone is healthy and so is the world!). The two replied with a simple you’re welcome and another thanks in return.

“Wait, have you really read fanfiction before?” Sebastian asked his co-star as the pair walked towards their manager, who was waiting for them outside the room, getting their schedule for the pair’s next interview.

“I mean yeah. I got curious on what people were writing about us and our characters.” Anthony responded with a shrug looking down at his phone.

“Aren’t most of those like fifty shades of grey?” Sebastian asked, staring at his friend as stood near their manager.

“Only if you want them to be..” Mackie stared at his friend with a blank face as they came to an abrupt stop. “Nah man, I’m just playing. Some of them are steamy, others can be sad, like crazy sad and some are like tooth rotting cute. Like I recently read one that was with Captain America and this original character that the author came up with and it made me say ‘aww’ when I finished it. Me. A grown man said ‘aww’ after reading a fanfic. A FANFIC!” he added. Their manager quickly explained their schedule and walked them over to their car to head off to the next location. The two were seated at the back, while their manager sat next to the driver.

“You know what. Send me that story you read.” Sebastian said to Anthony.

“Are you sure Seb?” Anthony asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, why not.” he replied with a shrug. “Might as well read a good story before our next interview.”

“Alright let me send it to you right now. Honestly I think this writer is one of my favorites. I don’t know if it's her writing style or how she portrays our characters, but she’s amazing.” Mackie said with a smile getting the fic he recently read and sending it to his friend.

“So all her stories are good?” Sebastian asked, looking at the notification.

“I just said that she is my favorite writer.” Anthony looked at his friend with a ‘are you serious face.’

“Okay. Okay.” Seb said with his arms up in defense. After a few minutes of reading the fanfic Sebastian actually said ‘aww’ aloud just like Mackie after he first read the story.

“It was good wasn’t it.” Anthony asked with a toothy grin.

“Yeah this was really good. Y/B/N is a pretty good writer.” Sebastian said looking through your feed.

“You should tell her!” Anthony exclaimed.

“What, like make an account?” Seb asked.

“Well yeah, but I mean not your actual name of course. Make a fan account. Show these writers your appreciation, I know that if I were an author I would love that (a/n: wink wink). I’ve messaged a few writers complimenting their work without actually telling them who I am.” Anthony said, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna read more stuff from her before I message her.” Sebastian chuckled. Sebastian clicked onto your main blog page to find that you had just posted a new fic about him. “Wait, dude she just posted a new story...About me!” Sebastian exclaimed, showing his phone to Anthony.

“Nice, but we have to finish these interviews. You gotta read it during your free time man, sorry to crush your dreams.” he chuckled, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car. Sebastian sighed and followed his co-stars actions getting out of the car and continuing the rest of his day filled with interviews.

*later that evening*

After the interviews Anthony and Sebastian had dinner together at a fancy restaurant. During their dinner they talked about how crazy some interviews were. Sebastian brought up the subject of how Mackie publicly announced that he had read fanfiction. With that still stuck in his mind the two finished their meal and after parting ways. Sebastian took a cab and arrived at his apartment, changed out of his fancy suit to some comfy clothes and grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge. He walked over to his couch turning on the tv, not really paying attention to what was playing, grabbing his phone he opened the tumblr app finally creating an account.

*one week later*

Sebastian has read almost all of your works and texting Anthony almost every time after he has finished a new fic giving his reactions to each. He has liked and reblogged everything he has read from you and other writers, but he favors your stuff the most.

Mackie: dude you should tell her you like her stuff and stop texting me!

Seb: Alright I will, I just don't know what to say.

Mackie: Just say you like her work. It's as simple as that.

Seb: okay okay I will

Mackie: ok good, no stop texting my its legit 2 am

Seb: fine

Sebastian opened up the messaging area of the app and began typing away his appreciation to you. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous after he pressed send. Getting out of the app completely he tried to focus on whatever was playing on the tv. Then all of a sudden he heard a notification go off and his phone light up. Looking down on it he saw that it was a notification from you. Again his nervousness took place as he unlocked his phone to read the notification. The app opened and the direct message filled his phone screen.

(a/n: this is my first time using a fake dm thingy so just imagine that Seb is following you)

Seb: Holy shit dude, she actually replied back to me!

Mackie: Well of course she did, she's not a robot. But maybe she is since she’s up so late...

Seb: shut up and why are you still up? I though you were mad at me for texting you

Mackie: well you woke me up so what am i supposed to do

Seb: whatever I’ll let you go

Mackie: alright. bye lover boy

Sebastian shook his head at the text, he went back to the app to reply back to you. “What should I say?” he said to himself. “Maybe she’s in a different time zone or lives across the world or something… Okay okay. Maybe be chill and say I hope i didn’t wake you? No that sounds weird.” he shook his head trying to come up with something to say. Eventually he fell asleep trying to think of what to say to you.

*the next morning/later that day*

Sebastian woke up with his phone gone from his hand. He quickly got out of his bed in panic to look for it. Maybe you had said something to him or he had said something dumb to you. Once he found his phone he quickly unlocked it to check and thank god he didn’t say anything stupid. But he didn’t say anything. He shook his head clearing his thoughts. “Alright I think I know what to say.”

Y/N’s POV

You woke up to the sound of cars honking, groaning you looked at your clock. “How is it already 10 am?” you said aloud to nobody in particular. You sat up on your bed and grabbed your phone scrolling through various social media apps. At the top of your screen you saw a notification from tumblr. Opening the app to the notifications section, you noticed it was a blog that had messaged you from earlier in the morning.

sebstan_fan: Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Carter. I don’t know where you live, but I just woke up and had a dream about one of your fics. (wow I hope that didn’t sound creepy)

You smiled at the message, since you loved interacting with your followers.

y/b/n: haha its ok. I actually live near New York City and I also woke up. What was your dream about? (if i can ask)

Sebastian’s POV

Sebastian had just finished taking a shower and began preparing his late breakfast. “Holy shit she replied again!” he said to himself looking at the message.

sebstan_fan: Wait, you live near NYC! Me too! Wow such a small world. But anyways my dream was honestly just a reenactment of your fic.

y/b/n: that’s so crazy how we live near each other lol. But that's so cool how you dreamt about my work. You must have really liked it.

sebstan_fan: yeah it was really interesting how you wrote such a life like scenario.

y/b/n: thank you Carter <3

sebstan_fan: ok I now this is random, but what’s your favorite place to eat in New York?

y/b/n: ooh that’s tough. Let’s go with Lombardi’s since its the very first pizza place to open in the US

sebstan_fan: oh wow an excellent choice :)

*a couple weeks later*

You and your new tumblr friend have been talking about one another’s favorite hobbies and interests for the past few weeks. You feel like you have grown a new connection with your new friend and telling them about your shitty days at work. Today your best friend wanted to bring you with her and her boyfriend to some fancy restaurant.

y/b/n: Carter, I’m practically third wheeling with her and her boyfriend.

sebstan_fan: well that sounds awful. Where is she taking you?

y/b/n: idk to some fancy restaurant I’ve never heard of. Anyways she’s making me wear fancy clothes, but I just wanna wear my pajamas!

sebstan_fan: y/n come on. you gotta dress nice if other people are dressing nice too

y/b/n: ughh ok I think I found something nice. *sends picture of yourself in an elegant dress* what about this?

Seb’s POV

Sebastian got a glass of water and sat back down on his couch. Unlocking his phone to see the new dm from you he spit his water out of his mouth wetting the coffee table in front of him. “HOLY SHIT SHE’S GORGEOUS!” he yelled aloud staring at his phone in awe of your beauty.

sebstan_fan: Y/N, you look amazing! That dress is literally making you glow!

y/b/n: stop you’re making me blush..my friend just pulled up. I’ll dm you later once this stupid night is over.

sebstan_fan: alright have fun

y/b/n: <3

Sebastian quickly called Mackie to tell him that you sent him a photo of yourself.

“Dude, she is unbelievably gorgeous. I actually spit my water out all over my coffee table when I saw the picture. ” Sebastian said on the phone.

“Man you are so obsessed with her, it's kinda creepy.” Anthony replied through the phone.

“What? No man, we just clicked. We have a bunch in common and she’s really easy to talk to.” Sebastian gushed to his friend.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that you’re lying to her about your real identity. You’re like fucking Superman with a secret persona!” Anthony snickered at the man on the other line.

“Dude no, but I’ll tell her eventually that I’m me.” Seb replied back to Anthony.

“Well you better do it soon because I’m tired of hearing about you gushing over this woman.” Anthony huffed under his breath. “Anyways I gotta go so bye bitch.”

Sebastian laughed at his friend hanging up the phone and heading to his room getting ready for bed. As he laid on his bed he couldn’t take his mind off of you in that dress. You were so open with sharing your life to him, a complete stranger, yet he couldn’t do the same.

*the next day*

y/b/n: Carter! I forgot to dm you once I got home, but that dinner was terrible. I hated every minute of it.

sebstan_fan: what happened? Also good morning :)

y/b/n: good morning, sorry if I woke you. But anyways my best friend and her boyfriend brought some dude to make it a double date and the guy was a complete douche. I couldn’t stand a minute being there.

sebstan_fan: damn I’m sorry to hear that. I bet if I was there with you the night wouldn’t have been so bad haha

y/b/n: creepy..jk But I bet we would have completely ditched my friend and her boyfriend lol

sebstan_fan: wait, I got an idea! I mean since we live around the same area why don’t we meet!

y/b/n: what like in person?

sebstan_fan: no through zoom, yes in person!

y/b/n: wow the sarcasm in this one, but that sounds like a lovely idea. I feel like I already know so much about you tho...

Sebastian huffed under his breath, “not everything.”

sebstan_fan: lol yeah but it’ll be different to meet in person. Anyways where should we meet?

y/b/n: lol that’s true. Well I know this small cafe that’s so cute and I heard they have pretty good pastries. It would be awesome to meet there :D

sebstan_fan: alright how about Saturday afternoon? You don’t have work right?

y/b/n: nope I’m off! but that sounds good to me! I’m so excited and nervous at the same time. Like what if you’re some creepy stalker...

Sebstan_fan: why would you accuse me of such a thing?!

y/b/n: lol you know i’m just messing with you. But I gotta go my friend is now calling me, probably about that douche from last night...but I can’t wait to see you Carter!<3

“Yeah, me too.” Sebastian said to himself smiling.

*Saturday*

You sat at the cafe where you told your new tumblr friend to meet you. You ordered a drink and once it was finished, you grabbed it and sat near the windows saving a seat for Carter. As you waited you pulled out your laptop and began on typing away a new fic idea drawing inspiration from the small cafe and the gloomy weather outside.

“I’m sorry that seat’s taken...” you muttered to a man who pulled out the chain next to you, looking up at the figure. “Holy shit!” you exclaimed to the man who sat next to you.

“Shhhh...Please don’t say anything.” Sebastian whispered to you, sitting on the chair next to you and taking off his sunglasses.

“What? But how? You’re!? I can’t breathe.” you exclaimed erratically looking down at your drink.

“Hey, hey Y/N, just calm down and take slow deep breaths.” he said calmly placing his hand on your back.

“How the fuck do you know my name?!” you exclaimed again staring wide eyed at the actor. “Am I getting pranked or something? Where are the cameras?!” you nervously laughed looking around the empty cafe.

“No, you’re not getting pranked. It’s me Carter…” he said quietly rubbing the back of his head.

“You’re Carter?! I thought you were a girl!” you said looking into the man’s blue eyes.

“I may have lied about who I was, but I wanted to meet you.” he started as he stared down at the ground. “I didn’t want you to freak out knowing that it was actually me.” he said looking back up at you.

“Let me just gather my thoughts for a sec.” you said, putting your hand to your temples.

“Wait, why did you assume I was a girl?” he asked with a smirk.

“I don’t know! Carter is a unisex name.” you frantically said with a shrug. “And I mean most of my followers are female, so I just assumed you were one too.” you added grabbing your drink and taking a sip to calm your nerves.

“That makes sense I guess.” he said chuckling, looking out the big window of the cafe.

“This is so crazy that you are here. Sitting next to me and talking about my stupid tumblr blog.” you uttered. “Like you’re famous!”

“Yeah so what.” he looked back to you.

“I mean aren’t you busy filming and stuff?” you asked the man.

“Nope, we just wrapped up the interviews a couple of weeks ago. I’m on vacation.” he said with a toothy grin, which made you blush. “Aww look she’s blushing.” he said sweetly towards you.

“Shut up. It’s not like I get to meet my favorite actor who I’ve had a crush on since forever sitting next to me and casually conversing with.” you muttered quickly hoping he didn’t hear your profession of love for him.

“You got a crush on me?” he smiled at you.

“Fuck you. I do not!” you exclaimed looking away from him.

“Aww I think you do.” he said, nudging your shoulder.

“Whatever.” you said under your breath trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, I’m in awe too.” he began, which made you look at him. “It’s not like I get to see a beautiful woman who I like.” he smirked at you.

“I think I’m dreaming. Did you just say you like me?!” you asked pinching yourself back into reality.

“I mean yeah. I really like your work as a writer and the past what month we’ve been talking I think you’re a really cool and sweet person.” he said now blushing.

“I bet you say that to all the women you meet.” scoffing at his comment.

“No I’m serious Y/N. I think you’re a really talented writer. And I think you’re also really pretty.” again blushing, but this time he looked straight at you.

“Oh, wow. Thank you so much Sebastian.” you hesitated, your cheeks heating up. “That means a lot coming from you.” you smiled.

“Of course. And also I wanted to ask you in person if after coming clear about who I actually am, if you wanted to go out sometime. I know its weird and all sudden but-”

“Yes!” you exclaimed quickly cutting him off. “I mean. I would love to.” you said more calmly. “God, I’m trying so hard to keep my inner fangirl in.” you huffed under your breath.

Sebastian laughed at your comment and then asked, “Alright then. What about tomorrow I take you out for dinner?”

“That sounds delightful.” you smiled at the man. The two of you fell silent watching the people who passed by the small cafe.

“Oh, but can I ask you one more question? Why are you wearing a hat? And shades earlier? It's legit rainy and cloudy as hell outside.” you asked, looking at the man with your head resting on your hand.

“I’m going incognito. I don’t want my fans to recognize me.” he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Are you embarrassed of them seeing you with me?” you hesitantly interrogated.

“No, I just don't want them to interrupt our first date.” he responded with a smirk looking at you.

“Wait, this is a date?!” you exclaimed with wide eyes.

“Only if you want it to be sweetheart.” Sebastian smirked, winking towards you.

“Fuck you.” You said with a smile.

A/N: Yay you finished! Was that good? bad? cheesy? lemme know lol Again if you wanna be tagged in future fics, have any requests or just wanna chat hit me up! Thank you guys for reading and I hope you get excited for more stuff to come.

Tags: @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @sebtheromanianprince @aquabrie @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan @princess76179 @anbrax5553 @wintersoldierissucharide @caplanbuckybarnes @miraclesoflove @kitkatd7 @msgreenverse @saiyanprincessswanie @fandomsandxfiles @hailmary-yramliah @coffeebooksandfandom @thefallenbibliophilequote

^please lemme know if you wanna be added to future works or removed for tags^

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian x reader #reader x sebastian #sebastian stan x reader #reader x sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #you x sebastian #sebastian x you #you x sebastian stan #reader insert #sebastian stan fluff

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

The Way to Hell - Part 13

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

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

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤

Word count: 5k

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

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

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

Please comment, review and reblog. 💖

Title: Paradise lost

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

He hates it.

Hates her for being absent.

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

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

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

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

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

The Devil never had a queen.

‘You know what they’ll do to her…’

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t have one anyway.

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

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

~*~

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

It was her single flaw and his greatest advantage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t want this feeling to go away.

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

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

‘Liam never smiles.’

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

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

“You were a rape baby.”

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

“You’re lying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s yours.”

*~*~

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

‘Is this Valhalla?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wonders how long it took for her real mother.

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

Sharp as a needle, it pricks her heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Break her, until she talks.”

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

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

“You know August used to mock me…”

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

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

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

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

But August is not here.

“Well… shall we begin, little bird?”

***

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

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

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

‘Memento mori.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘So now you are doing this for her?’

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

Doom’s day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t release the... “

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

‘Oh angel, what have you done?’

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

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

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

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

And you left her to die.’

________________________________

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

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

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starryknight09 · 3 years

Text

One last good-bye

Febuwhump Day 15: “Run. Don’t look back”

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“Run. Don’t look back.” Rhodey pushed him forward. Peter stumbled, looking at the man in shock.

“Go!” Rhodey yelled. This time Peter listened. He knew he’d be useless in this fight. And Rhodey could fly. Peter couldn’t. Sure, he could swing, but only when there was something to stick to, which didn’t exist in the middle of this rocky wasteland.

He took off, sprinting as fast as he could in the direction of the Quinjet, not looking back. They’d wandered far enough away that the Quinjet was out of sight, so he hoped he was going in the right direction.

“Helping Dr. Strange will be fun, you thought.” He mumbled to himself as he ran. “Yeah right.”

He could hear the repulsors firing from the War Machine armor but the sound was barely audible over the stampede of all those things running at them. He wanted to glance back to make sure Rhodey was ok, but he knew he couldn’t chance it. He didn’t need his super hearing to hear the creatures gaining on him. Rhodey could take care of himself. He was a big boy. A louder bang sounded in between repulsor blasts. Rhodey must be pulling out the bigger fire power.

Run. He thought to himself. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

Why had they ever agreed to help Dr. Strange in the first place? This was way beyond his pay grade. Some other evil wizard was messing around with bad sorcery and now Peter was running from weird spooky undead creatures.

“Karen.” He gasped. “Any luck with the comms?”

“I’m sorry Peter. Something is still jamming my communication abilities.” Damn.

They never should’ve split up. Whose bright idea had that been anyway? Right. Sam’s. Peter hadn’t known him before, but it seemed like the whole being Captain America thing had kind of gone to his head.

“The enemy creatures are gaining on you.” Karen warned.

“I’m aware!” He tried to run faster but he didn’t think it worked. He knew it’d be bad news bears if any of these things bit him. Dr. Strange had been clear enough about that. His only consolation was that he was in the Ironspider suit, so if bullets couldn’t pierce it, he was pretty sure these ugly things teeth couldn’t. But he wasn’t absolutely 100 percent sure. Besides, the suit wouldn’t save him if was overrun by these things. The sheer number of them would crush him. Not a great way to go.

They were getting so close he could smell them and the pungent smell of rotting flesh and garbage made him want to gag.

Must run faster. Must run faster.

Finally, the Quinjet came into view. Oh thank god.

“I recommend you increase your velocity. At this current pace you will not reach the Quinjet before you’re overrun.” Karen informed him.

Shit.

“Help!” He screamed, hoping another group had returned to the Quinjet and would hear him. “A little help!”

A growl sounded behind him. Way too close. He turned around. And immediately regretted it. Man, they were as ugly as they were stinky, and he only had about a thirty foot lead on them.

This was not good. This was so not good.

In the split second he glanced backward, he tripped. He flew through the air before crashing to the ground and rolling across the rock laden dirt terrain.

I’m going to die. This is how Spiderman goes? Really? He thought as he tumbled.

The instant he stopped, he rocketed back to his feet and started running again, even though he knew it was pointless. Those things were right behind him. He didn’t want to turn around and look. He didn’t want to know when death would be coming.

But then from one second to the next, he had an idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Sure, he didn’t have firepower and he couldn’t fight these things hand to hand, but he still had his webs. Just because they couldn’t swing him anywhere didn’t mean they were useless. He spun back around, trying not panic at the fact that the creatures were only like ten feet away as he shot his webs out across the entire line of them, sticking them together.

They fell and that caused their comrades behind them to trip over them and fall as well like a line of dominos. It wasn’t a definitive solution, but it’d bought him some time. The Quinjet was getting closer, and now he could see people running down the ramp toward him. Sam and Bucky. Wanda and Clint. Scott and Professor Hulk. Dr. Strange.

He wasn’t going to die after all!

And then the other wizard guy showed up.

Ok. Maybe he’d spoke too soon…

Dr. Strange glided through the air to meet the other wizard guy in a collision of colors. Peter thought his gold sparkle transporting rings looked cool, but whatever spell he’d just cast put them to shame. Multicolored glitter sparkles fell from the sky like rain, landing on his skin but not hurting him. They rested there for a few seconds before fading away. A moment later he realized the noise behind him had greatly decreased. He risked a quick glance backward and gaped. Any creature touched by the glitter stuff started gradually fading away until they disappeared altogether.

It took him another few strides to realize he didn’t need to run anymore. Nothing was chasing him. Dr. Strange had eradicated the entire undead creature herd with one spell. Wow. There was definitely something to be said about the magic or mystical arts or whatever the man called it.

“Kid? You ok?” Sam asked, reaching him a few seconds after he’d stopped. The man clapped a hand on his shoulder and looked him up and down.

“Yeah.” He answered as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m good. So…now what do we do?”

Sam glanced up at Strange fighting the other wizard guy, the two of them periodically clashing in the air as they both fired colorful spells. If it’d been dark out Peter could’ve almost made believe he was watching fireworks.

“Hell if I know.” Sam admitted. “I draw the line at street magicians. This wizard shit is beyond me.”

Peter huffed out a laugh.

“Hey, where’s Rhodey?” He hadn’t seen the man since he’d ran and hoped he was ok. He couldn’t imagine the man hadn’t gotten away with the War Machine armor. He took a few steps back in the direction he’d came, searching the horizon.

“Don’t worry. He’s right there. See?” Sam pointed up in the sky where Rhodey was flying toward them.

Right. He didn’t know how he’d missed him. His heart rate slowed. Mr. Stark’s best friend was fine. Peter hadn’t been able to save his mentor, but he wasn’t going to let anything happen to his family, not if he could help it. And Rhodey was definitely part of Mr. Stark’s family.

“Watch out!” Sam yelled, but the warning came too late. He’d been so focused on Rhodey he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the wizards battling. His spidey sense flared in warning, but too late. He tried to dive out of the way, but the range of the spell’s blast heading toward him was too large to evade. The globe of red light enveloped him, and everything went black.

Peter’s eyes snapped open and he sat up before he was even fully awake, the adrenaline from the battle still churning through him. He’d been hit. Where was he hit? He ran his hands over the front of his body and looked down at it, but he didn’t see any blood. And nothing hurt. But…wait. What? Why wasn’t he wearing his Spiderman suit?

“Ok. What the hell.” He mumbled to himself, holding his hands up in front of his face as if they could tell him. But they were bare. And he had on jeans ith one of his science pun t-shirts, which was the outfit he’d been wearing before he’d put on the Ironspider suit earlier. Weird. Last he’d checked he’d left his clothes in the Quinjet. Maybe someone had changed him out of his suit and into his clothes? He frowned. That made no sense.

Where was the Quinjet anyway? Everything was a lot quieter. He glanced around, taking in his new surroundings, and his face slackened in shock. Because he definitely wasn’t in the barren rocky wasteland where they’d been fighting that wizard. In fact, his surroundings didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before. Was he even on Earth?

“Oh shit. Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” He muttered.

The ground he sat on looked like water, but its surface was solid. He slapped his palms down and watched as ripples expanded outward from them, like what would happen if you dropped a stone into water. But he wasn’t wet or sinking. Ok. This was officially freaky weird.

“Where am I?” He whispered and stood, doing a full circle to try to orient himself. It didn’t help. Everything looked the same. The weird blackish blue ground he stood on stretched out as far as the eye could see. No other pieces of landscape pierced it. The line of the horizon was only perceptible because the blue of the air was just a shade lighter than the ground. The whole aesthetic was dizzying and kind of trippy.

And then he looked up.

“Holy shit.” His heart leapt into his throat. The sky was a dark expanse of stars and galaxies. And he could see a few large planets that looked almost close enough to touch. It was terrifyingly beautiful. He reached out and tried to poke at one of the closer ones, a red giant with rings. It was too far away to actually touch, but the spot where his finger poked made the air ripple out in the same way it had on the ground, like the atmosphere was composed of gelatin that jiggled when touched.

“What the hell...” He definitely wasn’t on Earth. What kind of spell had he been hit with? Had he been transported somewhere? Banished? Was it reversible?

“Underoos.” Came a voice from behind him.

Peter stiffened. He hadn’t heard that voice in months. The last time had been on a rubble strewn battlefield, fighting for his life, and the life of the entire universe. Terror gripped him. He was afraid to turn around, and at the same time, he’d never wanted to do anything more in his whole life. He turned. And there he was. Mr. Stark. Standing there without a care in the world, hands in his pockets with sunglasses on and a characteristic grin on his face.

“Mr. Stark.” He whispered, unable to believe his eyes.

“Hey kid.” The man’s eyes softened as he took him in.

Peter just stared, brain unable to comprehend that this could possibly be real. He didn’t know what to say. He’d imagined so many times what he’d say if he ever saw Mr. Stark again, but now he could barely make his mouth move to form words.

“But— How—” He stammered, not even sure what he was trying to ask, and then a thought struck him and his eyes widened as he asked, “Am I dead?”

“No.” Mr. Stark reassured him then clarified, “Well, not technically.”

“What does that mean? Not technically dead? So, am I not technically alive either?” His tone got higher pitched even as he tried not to panic. He knew there were more important things to talk to Mr. Stark about, but he couldn’t think about anything else until he knew what was happening to him.

“You’re in the in between.” Mr. Stark explained.

He frowned.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” The man said, face showing his disapproval. And Peter couldn’t help the small smile that cracked across his face. He’d missed those looks from Mr. Stark.

“Then how do I go back?” He asked.

Mr. Stark shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do. We just have to wait.”

Not the most comforting answer. “But if I’m in the uh in between, how are you here?”

“It’s too complicated to explain, but let’s just say I’m here to keep you company.” Mr. Stark smiled again.

And Peter finally let himself enjoy the fact that he was standing there with Mr. Stark. Something he’d wished for more than anything. He wasn’t going to waste it even if his own fate was uncertain. In the next second, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around the man. He was substantial. Whole. Mr. Stark wrapped his arms around him and hugged him right back.

Tears welled in his eyes, and he didn’t know how that was even possible, just like he didn’t know how he could hug his mentor since supposedly neither of them had bodies right now, but it was happening all the same.

“I missed you.” Peter whispered into the man’s neck.

Mr. Stark brought a hand up to the back of his head and tangled it in his hair. “I missed you too kid.”

Peter didn’t know how long they stood there hugging. Not that it mattered. Time didn’t exist in this place. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did.

And Tony didn’t say anything. And he didn’t pull away. He just kept holding him. For as long as Peter wanted.

Peter tried to soak it all in and memorize every detail of the moment. The smell of Mr. Stark’s aftershave, the scratch of his beard, the warmth of his embrace, how absolutely protected and safe he felt. He tucked away every sensation and feeling so when he needed to in the future, he could close his eyes and recall it. Because he knew he’d never get another chance at this.

“It’s not fair.” The words came out before he’d even decided to say them.

“I know.” Tony agreed.

“I wish you could come back with me.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Do you…do you regret it?” He whispered his question. One of the things he’d always wondered.

“No.” Tony answered without hesitation.

“Why?”

“Because there was no other way.”

That was true enough. Dr. Strange had told Peter something similar. If Mr. Stark hadn’t snapped, they would’ve lost and everyone would’ve died.

“But do you regret inventing time travel? You could’ve lived a full life with Pepper and Morgan.” Peter had always felt like he’d been partially responsible for taking that away from him. The way everyone had told the story, he’d been the catalyst for Mr. Stark inventing time travel. And now he got to have this time with Mr. Stark when Morgan or Pepper never would, and that made him feel even more guilty.

“No I couldn’t have.” The man said pulling away so he could cup Peter’s face in his hands. “Because I didn’t have you.”

The tears in Peter’s eyes slid silently down his cheeks. “I wish you wouldn’t have done it.”

“I don’t. I had to. No regrets.” Tony smiled at him and Peter marveled at how it could be so soft and so sad at the same time. “I love you kid.”

“I love you too.” He said back and fell forward back into a hug. After another long minute or so, Peter gathered enough self control to pull away again. He couldn’t stay glued to the man forever. No matter how much he may want to right now.

As Mr. Stark let him go, he kept his hands resting on Peter’s shoulders, and Peter remembered another thing he wished he’d gotten the chance to say when Mr. Stark had been alive. The man had done so much for him. Had become something of a father figure to him. And he’d never verbalized his appreciation in any way.

“I uh I never thanked you.” He said.

“You never had to.”

“Still, I want to. Thank you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome Pete.” Mr. Stark smiled. “But no thanks are necessary.”

“Is there anything I can—"

“I don’t think we have much time left.” Mr. Stark interrupted with a frown.

“Oh.” A short burst of panic hit him. He didn’t want to leave Mr. Stark. “What-what if I want to stay?”

“No.” Mr. Stark answered firmly. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not your time yet.”

“So I can’t choose to stay?” He asked, but even as he did, he knew he never would. He couldn’t do that to everyone he loved at home no matter how much he missed Mr. Stark.

“No. That’s not how it works. And you wouldn’t really want to stay anyway.” Mr. Stark said in his typical all-knowing fashion.

“I know.” He said sadly and then asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Shoot.”

“What’s it like here?”

Tony gave him a peaceful smile, eyes twinkling as he answered, “Wonderful.”

It didn’t fix anything, but it was a small consolation at least. A weird feeling started somewhere near his belly and spread, like a buzzing, tugging sensation.

“Time to go Pete.” Mr. Stark said, his smile turning sad.

“Mr. Stark.” He whined and leaned forward to give him one last hug. He hated the feeling of being torn away from him. Hated how similar this whole thing felt to getting dusted on Titan.

“I know.” Mr. Stark shushed as Peter clung to him. “But it’s ok buddy. It’s going to be ok.”

Peter gripped him tighter, but he could tell it was a battle he was going to lose.

“Bye kid. I love you and I’m so proud of you.” Mr. Stark whispered.

“I love you too.” He said frantically, worried any second he’d be torn away and unable to finish what he wanted to say. “And I miss you so much.”

He tried to hold on, but in the next moment, he was finally ripped away.

“No.” He protested desperately. “Tony!”

“Tony!” The man’s name was still on his lips as his eyes snapped open.

“Hey, you’re ok.” Rhodey said from where he was crouched down next to him.

“I…I…what?”

“That wizard guy hit you with a spell, but Strange finally figured out how to reverse it.” Rhodey explained.

Peter blinked and looked around, recognizing his surroundings. He was lying on a couch in the Sanctum. It all came back to him. The fight. The other wizard guy. Getting hit by the red spell. Mr. Stark.

“I saw Mr. Stark.” He blurted out and Rhodey’s eyes widened.

“I did. I saw him.” He insisted, worried the man wouldn’t believe him.

Rhodey looked up at someone behind Peter’s head. Peter craned backward and noticed Dr. Strange standing there, a neutral expression on his face.

“It’s possible.” Dr. Strange said. “The spell sent him somewhere where he was neither alive nor dead.”

“Mr. Stark called it the in between.”

Dr. Strange nodded and Rhodey looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Interesting that Stark was able to cross over into that place.” Dr. Strange said. “You must have a strong connection with him for that to have been possible.”

Peter nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he remembered all that they had said.

Rhodey kept staring at him, his mouth open like he wanted to ask something but couldn’t figure out what. If it’d been him, Peter knew what he’d want to know, so he answered the man’s wordless question.

“He’s ok.” Peter said with a small smile. “He’s happy.”

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhump #irondad

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tsunonotarou · 3 years

Note

**this start is basically just your Ly slowly losing it over Idia**

There are times where I question whether or not spending all my gems over GM Idia was a good idea or not— then I see you cry over FG Leona (I'm sorry for your loss) and I suck it up and become very grateful. Plus, I'm still not over that illustration!!!! — I don't think I'll ever be HXYCHFUVFDHFYCG

Help, I started adoring ignihyde because of how attached I am of Ortho, then I saw how Idia cherishes his brother so much and how he's willing to do almost everything for him and I just—😭😭😭 As someone who also does and feels the same way, I immediately became attached. Anyways, here I am now, crying over the Shroud brothers and maybe possibly highly likely internally screaming over Idia AGSYFUDRHB (as I was typing this the image of him in his STYX uniform just flashed in my mind and now—)

**end of whatever that was hfyxjsfjjfdc**

Great to hear that you've finished that report! Even if you procrastinated til the last minute, at least it's done, no? Now, togther, let's try to do better in managing our activities and try to avoid doing the same mistake again. Don't worry about being that awkward person when it comes to taking care of their s/o, because same. So!! This can be the start of us learning how to care for one another 😌😌😌

And I'm also very happy to inform you that I'm doing even better than last time! I think I'm finally getting used to things and I'm now able to properly manage my time as opposed to before (err, I actually did nothing productive this entire day because I convinced myself that this is my "break," hoping it wouldn't backfire). Hopefully things will go your way as well! I will personally have a chat with life and demand they let you be relaxed if I could because you deserve it 😤😤❤️

KAVDJWVAIVSID I'M ALWAYS SO VERY HAPPY WHEN I HEAR FROM YOU!! (no matter what it is, just seeing you on my dashboard makes me feel happy!! Like?? That's Sem! And she's cool and awesome and I get to call her my beloved! who's Idia Shroud anyway? ew /j)

😭😭❤️ I no longer remember where I was originally going with this ask and it's become quite lengthy so I'll just end it before it starts to lose even more sense. Please accept this final kiss to thee ( ˘ ³˘)♡♡♡

-Ly <3

M-My Ly 😳 THE COMMENT ABOUT YOU LOSING IT OVER IDIA COMPLETELY FLEW OVER MY HEAD NOW IM JUST GONNA THINK ABOUT MY LY FOR THE REST OF LIFE BYE

What’s done is already done so don’t dwell on that my love 😌 GM IDIA IS DEFINITELY WORTH IT YES TAKE MY INCIDENT WITH FG LEONA AS A REMINDER TO NEVER EVER LET GO OF AN OPPORTUNITY (not that I ever had one, mf I hadn’t even met twst back then why do they have to release FG so early 💔)

“(I’m sorry for your loss)” MADE ME CRACK UP PLEASEKSUDGWMCLSKFKWF THAT WAS SO FUNNY FOR NO REASON 😭😭

GM Idia card was really on another level…now imagine his dorm SSR 😳

Yup, the Shroud brothers’ bond would really make the most heartless bitch go (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`) THAT STYX UNIFORM WAS THE SHIT IDK WHY PEOPLE ARE SAYING ITS UGLY MAYBE ITS MY TASTE BUT HE LOOKS GOOD IDC IDC AND HIM BEING ALL PROFESSIONAL AND SHIT GRRRR TAKING OVER FAMILY TINGZ GRRRRRR BARK BARK

Ly would do almost everything for a person? That made me love you more you’re so kind and sweet 🥺 but make sure you’re looking after yourself as well okay~? I know that’s my job, but you still gotta do it yourself in case I’m not there 😌

**I would love to hear more about your screaming and rotting so don’t hesitate to jump into my inbox okie hehehe**

Yup, I’ve finally finished it!! There’s still some fixing needed to be done after it was checked though so 💔 but yes let’s grow old together and learn to manage life a little better <3 we can help each other out <3

AAAA IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT!!! This was answered so late I’m so sorry ಥ_ಥ but I’m really glad that you took the day off to have a break! Rest is very much needed and just as important as other tasks!

Aaa but since this was answered late </3 I’m wondering if you’re still doing okay? I hope you are! I haven’t heard from you after answering your most recently sent asks so…I’m getting a little worried tbh ಥ_ಥ

I’m doing fine! Thank you so much 😳 I too, shall personally have a chat with life if it ever made it too harsh for you 😤 nobody messes with my Ly 😡🔪

I FEEL THE SAME LOVE WHENEVER I SEE YOUR ASK I ALWAYS GET GIDDY AND HAPPY BECAUSE I LOVE SEEING YOU TALK AND HOW YOURE DOING ETC ETC I JUST LOVE YOU IN GENERAL EXCUSE ME FOR BEING TOO MUCH

I’m far from cool and awesome I’m just a simp for a person named Ly ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ YES YOU GET TO CALL MY YOUR BELOVED PLEASE NEVER STOP CALLING ME THAT I LOVE YOU ARF WHO’S LEONA KINGSCHOLAR ANYWAY

No worries, bby <3 I genuinely don’t mind if your ask doesn’t have a specific reason, I could listen to you talk all day! And I’d still have hearts in my eyes because I adore you so so much <3 you can send me 4k long rambles and I’d still listen with all ears 😚 kisses accepted! Sending them back~

#garden tour #❀ – Ly

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caseyscartwright · 5 years

Text

My thoughts on 13RW Season 3 (SPOILERS)

So I binged 13RW yesterday and I have a lot of feelings about it.

What I liked:

Tyler: His storyline was my favorite part of the whole season. I feel like they handled it well, I still think they fucked up by showing the rape so graphically last season, but this season his arc was handled with proper care. I cried really hard when Tyler told Clay what happened to him, when he told Jessica, and when he stood up in the assembly and admitted that he was a sexual assault survivor. Watching Tyler find friends and happiness was so satisfying. I’m glad he made up with Cyrus and the punks, and that Zach finally gave him a chance. Devin Druid proved he’s a wonderful actor and shined like the star he is.

Jessica: I’m super proud of Jessica for becoming an advocate for victims and survivors herself, for standing up against Bryce and Monty, for being there for Tyler (seeing two sexual assault victims come together was super important), her scene with Mrs. Baker was also incredible. I’m still not crazy about Jessica and Justin as a couple, but I’m glad Jessica has found herself again and is able to have a positive sex life after what she went through.

Tony: I didn’t expect the ICE storyline with Tony and his family, but it was very emotional and it hit me really hard. I’m glad Caleb was there for Tony and I love their sweet, supportive relationship. Clony was back! I love that they shared ‘I love yous’ and that the friendship went back to its old roots.

Justin: I won’t lie, when he admitted to Jessica what happened to him, I was shocked. That was a beautiful scene and I’m super proud of Justin for opening up. His brotherhood with Clay was also on point this season, and I hope he can officially be adopted in season 4.

Clay: Clay has a heart of gold, and this season proved that, AGAIN. I love how loving and supportive he was towards Tyler, and how he was there for him. His scenes with Mrs. Baker were also moving and reminded me how much I miss Hannah.

Mrs. Baker and Jessica not forgiving Bryce: I feel like this is important to address. Yes, Bryce regretted his actions and apologized, but just because someone apologizes doesn’t mean they should be forgiven. Bryce caused A LOT of damage to multiple people, and no matter how sorry he was, the damage was done. Everyone has the right to apologize, but no one is entitled forgiveness and I’m glad both women didn’t change their minds about him. I also thought the scene between Olivia and Mrs. Walker was well done.

Zach being a good friend to Chloe: I’m glad it didn’t turn romantic and that Chloe was able to make her own decision not to have the baby. She’s young, in high school, and has plenty of time to be a mom or not, that’s up to her.

Alex, Jessica, and the killer reveal: After all that wait, the reveal did not dissapoint. Bryce was a fucking dumbass, Alex was helping him get up and he sealed his fate by threatening Zach and Jessica, so Alex pushed him and he and Jessica watched him drown. Well, bye, bye, dude. Oh, and I’m happy Jessica said Alex was her best friend and the ‘FML Forever’ moment was perfect.

What I didn’t like:

Ani, her hypocrisy, and the weird Clay/Ani/Bryce love triangle: So Ani becomes friends with Jessica, knows Bryce is her rapist, but still hooks up with him and has this whole flirty, romantic comedy relationship with him and barely gets called out for it??? I feel like Jessica should have been allowed to tell her to fuck off and stop defending her rapist. Ani spent the entire season accusing everyone of killing Bryce, defending him and talking about “the other side of Bryce”, and I found myself rolling my eyes so many times at her I lost count (and she also accused Jess of sleeping with Bryce... UGH). HE’S A RAPIST!! Why would anyone want to sleep with and be nice to a rapist? I kept waiting for her to reveal that maybe Bryce reminded her of someone she knew, or that she was messed up and that’s why she was with him, but zero, nada. I feel like that ‘relationship’ was there to add more drama, and to make Clay pissed, which he was right to be. This isn’t the same as Clay being mad about Zach/Hannah, this is VERY different, I’d also lose my shit if my friend/crush was dating a known rapist. I don’t know why Clay still chose to be with her after all her Bryce stanning, and after she accused him of being a murderer. I know Ani ended up helping at the end, but the whole ‘triangle’ was weird and it made me super uncomfortable. She was a hypocrite for protesting against rapists while dating and defending one. Anyway... I missed Hannah Baker.

Bryce ‘Cry me a River’ Walker: Yes, Bryce was sorry. Yes, sometimes pieces of shit like him regret their actions. But Bryce was a serial rapist, and showing 15 scenes of him crying/suffering didn’t change my opinion of him. He still raped girls, he still bullied kids, and I think it’s up to the audience’s interpretation whether you think someone like him deserves another chance. Like I said before, I believe you don’t have to forgive your abuser if you don’t want to, and no matter how much a bad person tries to atone for their sins, the damage is done. But anyway, I don’t want to talk about Bryce anymore, his dead corpse can rot now.

Monty: So... Monty was gay. I think making the violent rapist a guy who was dealing with internalized homophobia was... a choice, but at least they gave us a positive gay couple with Tony and Caleb. Yes, Monty had a horrible father and problems of his own, but he still chose to hurt Tyler and be a bully, so I don’t forgive him, and I don’t care that he was framed for Bryce’s death or killed in prison. Good riddance.

Bryce calling out Monty for being a rapist was like watching Ch*rles M*nson call out T*d B*ndy for being a serial killer.

That said... Justin Prentice and Timothy Granaderos are brilliant actors and I respect them.

Missing characters: Not enough Courtney. No sign of Sheri or Nina (who were also survivors and it would have been so powerful to have them in the scene where Jess gives her speech and be part of the HO group). Scott Reed was also MIA, and tbh he wasn’t much of a character in season 2, but he had ties to Bryce and Monty, so seeing him this season would have been interesting. I think Charlie took over his ‘helpful jock’ role this season, but I did like Charlie, so that’s good. I still don’t know what happened to Marcus, but oh well, who cares.

There’s probably more stuff I’m forgetting, but hey, this season was A LOT, so can you blame me? Season 4 hurry up, because I do want to see how all of this ends.

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filthyguitarfan · 3 years

Text

Writing about more songs that I like uwu

Indie for life.

I Bet On Losing Dogs - by Mitski I love this song because it resonates on a deep level with me. This one, to me, is about doing things that you know they will backfire or just fail, but doing them anyways. I had a relationship last year that I was really enjoying, my ex was the kindest guy I’ve ever met and we clicked really well, but my father found out by me not closing our conversations and he literally went berserk, threatening to out him to his parents and threatening me with physical violence. Wasn’t nice. The entire relationship was a losing dog, I knew it’d be found out one day, I just hoped that it wouldn’t be found out so soon. I knew that I had bet on a losing dog. I was watching the relationship fall apart in front of my very eyes as soon as my dad found out, but I still stood by the ring, looking into its eyes when it was down. I still cry about it sometimes. Oh well.

Because Dreaming Costs Money, My Dear - by Mitski A song about still feeling an aching void after something had passed. I can still smell the fire, though I know it’s long died out. The smoke still hangs in my hair and on some quiet evenings it burns my eyes. I can still hear my ex’s voice in my head, I can still see us walking around town when I go out and those memories sometimes make my eyes well up. The hopeful part of this song isn’t that we will be mended one day, but that if I “keep playing my violin” I will be out of this abusive household and I will manage somehow. Made Me This Way - by Seraphine I know that Riot only made Seraphine to please their chinese parent company, Tencent, but I really like the message they have here. Plus I think it’s really inclusive towards people who speak mandarin and are of Chinese descent, since one of its verses is in mandarin! The lyrics reminds me of the long way that I’ve come, from being a depressed emo kid to someone who aspires to become a surgeon. Everything that’s happened to me has contributed, one way or another, to me becoming the way I am now. Sunny Road - by Emilíana Torrini A song that the singer wrote for her deceased fiancé, who tragically lost his life to a heart attack. To me, this song is addressed to better times and happiness. I know it’s been a long time since I felt happy, but I hope I’ll meet it one day on a sunny road. Pillar of Truth - by Lucy Dacus A song that Lucy wrote to her grandmother when she was dying. To her, she was the pillar of truth that was turning to dust before her very eyes. The song is wonderfully written, growing in intensity as it progresses like a line of matches that’s been lit and is building up speed towards a pile of gasoline. This song was constantly playing in my mind when my great grandmother was dying. The 89 years that she lived on this planet and all the challenges she overcame. All of that, being reduced to nothing. I absolutely adore this song and I really recommend it. Through the Valley - by Shawn James This song first hit my ear when I heard Ellie singing it in the first teaser for The Last of Us Part II. I instantly fell in love with it, and boy oh boy, is it a good song. Grungy, melancholic and badass at the same time, it perfectly encapsulates the feeling of being left alone to rot, yet rising from your own ashes to seek vengeance. Motion Sickness - by Phoebe Bridgers A great song about being put on an emotional rollercoaster. The motion sickness you get is purely emotional, then you start asking for someone to roll the windows down. My father is verbally and sometimes physically abusive towards me, but after prolonged acts of abuse comes a period of overblown displays of affection. The kind of conditional affection that I’ve taught myself to reject, because it’s like the high from a shot of heroin. Be Your Own 3 AM - by Adult Mom The first non-binary artist that I’ve ever listened to! Adult Mom’s sound is very soft, tender and lulling. This song is about collecting your debris once you’ve fallen apart and building yourself anew. It helped me through my years when I felt lost and expectations were piling higher and higher. Wreck of the Day - by Anna Nalick A song that I like to put on loop when I feel like a mess. There were lots of shifts on the ambulance that left me completely destroyed. I haven’t had a patient code on me, but I did have dead patients who were DOA. The faces of the family and the torment that lingered in the air was hard to take in at first but I have gradually learned how to handle it. God bless this song. Real Love - by Big Thief This song captures those tender loving moments of you and your loved one just spending time together, alone, and admiring each other. Touching each other’s cheeks, promising to love each other forever. Masterpiece - by Big Thief THE song that I go to when I feel like I admire someone too much but they’re taken. They’ve seen the master piece, and it looks a lot like me, but they chose them over me. Relying on them only to get nothing when you need them.

Suicide Hotline - by The Prettiots A song about not feeling fine, envious of people who died, googling methods of suicide, but not feeling bad enough that you’d actually do them. Comparing your own shit to other people’s shit helps you put your shit into perspective . Map On A Wall - by Lucy Dacus Oh, please, don’t make fun of me. This song really does well with capturing the insecure sentiments of teenage years and early adulthood. I was always self conscious about my silhouette, about my teeth, my hair, my acne and my proportions. Even about the shape of my eyes. Yearning for someone while also trying your best to look good, even though everything you put on just feels bad. A map has no use when it’s just hanging on a wall, and neither does your true self if it’s hiding behind anxiety.

Into The Fire - by Thirteen Senses A leap of faith. A jump into the unknown. Into The Fire is all about what the title says: put your hand into the fire. Sometimes, we have to take risks. Write that e-mail. Apply to that college. Ask that special someone out. Do that needle decompression to save someone’s life. All year round, risks have to be taken. You can’t watch the flame and complain about it because it won’t get you anywhere. You have to take that jump yourself.

Anyway bye.

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fablesrose · 4 years

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Of Kings and Shadows XXVI

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days.

With the help of Loki and regularly scheduled meals (even if they were served through a straw since I couldn't use my hands) helped reset my internal clock to be able to keep track of the time.

It's been three days since I gave my report, part of it anyway, and no one has come to visit me. No one has talked to me. Loki hasn't come down to one of my therapy sessions. No one has even turned on the radio for me to listen to.

Yesterday they let me off of my restraining stand. It was an awkward procedure, with the restraints releasing, waiting for me--Noxy to step off of it, and then they froze the jumpsuit while they pulled the contraption through the floor and out of the way. Noxy could literally do whatever she wanted, but instead, she laid on her back, spread eagle and stared at the ceiling. She didn't hardly move.

Since that was boring as hell, I tried to occupy myself with no hope of ever getting human (sort of) contact again since I admitted to killing a fellow agent who I called my friend.

So, to pass the time I have made three card houses, each one more complex than the last, played tic tac toe with myself (spoiler: I only won once), touched up on my juggling skills, made out with my favorite celebrity more than a few times, got into an argument about shopping carts, and thought about impossible things, impossible places, and impossible dreams.

That was until the outer door opened. I couldn't think of a time that the door had opened. Loki stayed outside of the entire enclosure, maybe on a whole different floor. Food and water were delivered electronically with no need for a door.

But here we were, someone with cotton-light footsteps walked around the glass so much that I couldn't tell where they were until they spoke from the opposite position of the entrance.

"Hey Y/n," Natasha spoke softly, the way she only spoke with the team, on a good day. "I know you can't talk back to me, but I figured I could talk to you."

My first visitor. It felt nice.

"I know Lokes hasn't been down in a few days, but just hang in there. He'll come around. He always has." She gave an at ease chuckle, "You know, none of us would have believed it, but he's really a part of the team. He looked and sounded so stiff the other day, I haven't seen him like that in forever, honestly."

I wonder if being in a coma was like this. Being able to hear them, but not answer. I hated it.

"We've really added to the team, I don't know if Loki told you. They're all going to love you... If Wanda would stop being a little butt-sore." She left a pause to think, "Anyway, I just wanted to say that we miss you. I miss you."

I wouldn't have been able to tell if she had left or not except for the fact that my mouth opened and a voice not quite mine came out, "You know, I could tell you what she's saying."

A feeling of dread washed over me. This was not going to be good.

"She hates you. She hates all of you. You left her to rot in a cell for seven years, only to bring her back to rot in a different cell." Noxy still lied on the ground, not looking at Natasha, so neither could I see her reaction. "You left her all alone in a cell that gives her nightmares. One that just drags her back into a time where I wasn't there. Not yet, but oh how she wished for a sweet release for the pain." Her laugh was warm and inviting, but it was so bitter I could nearly taste it and gag, "And then you just waltz in here and say you replaced her. The audacity! How many people did it take to fill up the hole she left behind? Three? Four? Zero? Maybe there wasn't a hole at all." Noxy rolled onto her stomach, feet crossed in the air, and her chin resting on her hands. Her eyes were still fixated on the white ceiling, puposefully making it so I couldn't see, "So yeah, she absolutely loathes you."

I was devastated at what she said to her. There was nothing I could do to stop it.

To Natasha's credit, it didn't even sound like she flinched, or even blinked knowing her. She just said simply, "I don't believe you."

Noxy paused from waving her crossed ankles before answering, "You're right. Y/n didn't say those things, you wanna know why?" This time she looked at Natasha's stone-cold face, "Because she isn't saying anything at all. Now you tell me, " Noxy blinked slowly, pleasantly, "which is worse?"

Natasha didn't reply, but I did catch the faint movement of a swallow.

Noxy began a little sing-song: "She's gone! Disappeared! Never to return! The little girl you knew has left forever."

Natasha shook her head, "That's not true, we spoke to her just the other day."

Noxy raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure?" She raised her voice mockingly which added a bit of grain, "Oh, I'm Y/n and I love my friends! Let's have a sob-fest that this happened to me and I'll tell you everything you need to know about my King."

Blinking slowly, Nat turned on her heel and mumbled, "Yeah, this isn't working."

"Buh-bye!"

I sighed to myself. Noxy was going to ruin everything. First I pushed away Loki. Now Natasha isn't going to be on my side. One by one they were just going to leave me here to die. Not that I expected anything less in the months before, but it still hurt. What little was left of my hopes and dreams took a nose-dive. I wasn't sure if I could recover before I crashed and burned.

Who was I kidding? I'm pretty sure I already have.

A couple hours went by with me wallowing in self-pity. I couldn't even find it in myself to hum a song. No lyrics came to mind. So I sat. I stared at whatever Noxy stared at. It was all the same, white walls and bright lights.

That is, until something felt a bit different.

Congratulations Wanda, you've graduated to burlap!

Wanda mumbled sarcastically, Thanks, Y/n. Natasha would like to speak to you.

Oh, she already did and didn't receive a very kind response. Not from me of course, but...

Fine, Natasha would like you to speak to her.

I laughed shallowly, Alright, and how are we going to do that?

Wanda didn't answer me, instead a voice that I heard a few hours before spoke.

Hey... How're you holding up?

A sense of calm came over me, knowing that she could talk to me. I could still feel the roughness of Wanda's magic holding us together, but after the last few days, any company at all was worth it.

As well as you could expect I guess.

She hummed at me softly, It sounds like you're doing better than any of us would in your shoes.

You flatter me.

I gotta butter you up some how don't I?

I laughed a real laugh. My word it's been a while. I am a little concerned about what Natasha.

That's for me to know.

And for me to find out?

No.

I chuckled one more time, Alright Natasha, what did you really want to talk about?

She feigned offense, What, I can't just talk to my friend?

I've known you long enough that everything you do has a purpose.

She paused, Well maybe my purpose is to check up on my friend who's voice I never thought I would hear again. And to make sure that she knows that we have her back, and if Loki doesn't get down here to keep you company I'll kick his ass myself.

Thanks Natasha, but I don't blame him. Not fully anyway.

Why would you ever think that?

I would have taken a deep breath. I wasn't sure if I was ready to say it out loud. I wasn't sure if I was ready to make it real. But the mind makes thoughts more fluid, so it's harder to quickly change an answer to a simple 'no reason.'

I chose to kill someone.

So have we all.

Not a friend. Loki, he killed so many, but he didn't know any of them. You and Clint were assassins, but did you ever kill someone you were friends with?

She didn't answer. I didn't know whether it was a silent confession of guilt, or a concession of my argument.

Neither of us spoke for a while, choosing to let the conversation stew for a while.

Eventually she must have grown tired of the quiet and decided to end the conversation, So, Nick says that the next report will be tomorrow.

Okay.

Uh... She trailed off, not sure what else to add, Take care.

You too.

I felt Wanda break the connection between us and she left too, but not before sending a feeling.

One that I wasn't sure I still knew the name of.

Tag List: [Open] @snarky--starky @kitkatd7 @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog

#loki #loki odinson #lokilaufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x y/n #Avengers #avengersfanfiction #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n #clint barton #natasha #wanda maximoff #natasharomanoff #Of Kings and Shadows #chapter 26

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barbiefafictionismycryforhelp · 4 years

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Mattel should really hire me for story writing

Barbie and the Island Princess

Unpopular take: For some reason I kinda can’t watch Island Princess because of the basic plot and how stress inducing it can be. The songs saved the movie, in my opinion. So I created new plots for you to enjoy.

Plot #1: Ok imagine this, so ya’ll remember when Ro’s father died on the shipwreck, well what if Ro’s dad is a ghost and is taking care of her and Sagi, Azul, and Tika. Ro can’t really see him, but she knows he’s there. Ro’s father helped her figure out her memories and taught her survival skills. One day, when Antonio comes along, he whisks her away to Apollonia to reveal to Paladia that Ro is alive. However, Ro’s dad being a ghost and all, decides to take his revenge and huant both Ariana and King Peter. Which causes havoc in the castle, so Luciana, Ro, and Antonio become the typical YA trio and try to solve the ghost havoc. While ghost hunting, the trio found out dark secrets about King Peter and King Joseph (Ro’s father). Now Joseph is really angry and is ready to attack everyone at the ball, but the trio all confront Peter and Ariana and make them confess all their sin. Revealing that Peter has been trying to kill King Joseph (with the help of Ariana) and that they were enemies ready to start a war. Which ruins Peter’s and Ariana’s reputation and pleases Joseph. So Joseph tells his daughter Ro good bye and finally gets to rest. So in the end, Antonio dethrones his father, Ro solves a political crime and becomes queen, Antonio and Ro become a happy couple, and Luciana becomes a famous author and writes the best horror and romance novels, and also put her terrible mother in jail to rot (with Peter). The End.

Plot #2: Ro has been on the Island for 10 years now and Antonio comes into her life and takes her back to Apollonia, except they didn’t go home, They went to Parthenia. I know crossover time! Yay! So now they are stuck there, confused. There, they meet Eric, King of Parthenia, and he tries to help them both go back home; the problem is that the portals aren’t working for some reason.There, Ro, Antonio and Eric become friends and reveal each other secrets. Eric reveals that he is in love with a girl named Clara and she is on the other side and is trying to get to her. Antonio reveals that he was a sick child and almost died until a woman healed him. Ro reveals she is trying to find her family. while there, Ro tries to figure out her memories and heal ( because her memories are lost). Antonio helps Ro with her memories and both discover some secrets about Parthenia and its connection to the other worlds, while discovering about other kingdoms secrets and falling in love. Eric remembers Apollonia and tells Antonio and Ro that his mother healed Antonio and Ro’s father is part Parthenian. It is also discovered that Ro’s father and Antonio’s father hated each other and King Peter was trying to kill Ro’s father. Ro, now healed, discovers that she is Princess Rosella. Antonio swears to dethrone his father, with the help with Eric. Now the portals are open and they all come back Apollonia and fight to the death. In the end, Antonio dethrones his father, Rosella returns home and Eric finds Clara. The End. *How did the portals open, idk.

Plot #3: Ok so the first half of the movie happened, but what happens instead is Ro finding out that she isn’t royal and her parents abandoned her. This makes Ro depressed and hides in the royal garden. Antonio not wanting to marry Princess Luciana and Luciana not wanting to marry Antonio, decides to Come up a plan to ruin the wedding. So Antonio writes a letter to Ro telling her to run away with him and Luciana pretends to get ill to avoid the wedding. In this version, Tika wants Ro to be happy and gives the letter to Ro. Ro accepts the offer and runs away with Antonio. King Peter is furious that Luciana and Antonio devised and plans to kill Ro, but he is too late, Luciana escapes, Ro light up the royal garden, and Antonio revealed to his mother that King Peter cheated on her. Ro and Antonio sailed away together. However, according to the kingdom Ro and Antonio both disappeared in the ocean and became ghost. Antonio became the ghost of the ocean and drowns sailors. Ro can posses animals and attack innocent civilians. However, the real story is Antonio and Ro both traveled around the world, discovered treasures and new islands (and the human anatomy hehehe). Eventually, they settled down, have a nice family, and live in Parthenia. As in Apollonia, Danielle divorced her husband Peter and prays everyday that her son comes back and visits, and Luciana becomes an author. The End.

*Anyways I’m done, tell me in the comments or repost which is your favorite plot and why. More head cannons on the way*

#barbie and the island princess #long post #ill do more but college #1 is my fav #Luciana #Antonio #Rosella #I hate King Peter club

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oriigami · 4 years

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Scrapyard Boys and Sunshine Days

(Okay, so... it occurred to me all of a sudden that Franky and Shanks totally could’ve met when the Roger Pirates were in Water 7, and then this happened. Read it on AO3 here!)

“Whatcha making?” a voice asked, bright and cheerful and right next to his ear, and Franky startled and dropped the wrench, jerking around.

The boy who’d been peering over his shoulder looked a few years older than him- twelve or thirteen, maybe. He was wearing a straw hat that looked a little battered but shone like gold in the sunlight, crowning a messy head of bright red hair. He was with the pirate crew that had arrived earlier that day, Franky remembered. Tom’s friends.

Franky looked at him suspiciously for a moment. “Why?”

“I’m curious!” the boy said, standing up on his tiptoes and leaning around him to get a better look at his workbench. “It looks cool!”

Franky hesitated a moment longer, but the casual compliment wrung enough goodwill out of him that he sidled over a step to make room. His workbench was less a workbench and more a repurposed fragment of decking, but it served its purpose well enough. At the moment, it was cluttered with pieces of metal, some welded together and many others haphazardly scattered about.

“Cool! What is it?” the red-haired boy asked, tipping his head to the side and squinting at the mess, like if he looked at it at the right angle some pattern would eventually slide into focus.

“It’s not anything yet,” Franky said, scowling briefly at the inadvertent reminder. “But eventually ‘s gonna be a cannon. I’m making a battleship.”

“A battleship?” the red-haired boy echoed. “That’s awesome! So hey, you work here? Are you a shipwright too?”

Franky puffed up in pride a little bit, unable to stop himself from boasting. “Yeah! I’m Tom’s pro-te-gee. Or, one of ‘em,” he added in a rushed mumble before returning to normal volume. “He’s teachin’ me everything he knows and someday I’m gonna be the best shipwright in the world!”

“In the whole world?” the red-haired boy asked, wide-eyed, and he didn’t laugh when he said it.

“In the whole world!” Franky said decisively. He chewed his lip for a moment, then stuck out his hand, filthy with dirt and engine grease like all the rest of him. “I’m Franky.”

The red haired boy grabbed his hand without hesitation, and shook it enthusiastically. “Hi, Franky! My name’s Shanks and I’m a pirate!”

Franky squinted at him doubtfully. “You don’t really look like a pirate,” he said. “You look like a kid. Like me.”

Shanks scowled. “Hey! I’m a real pirate!”

“Yeah? What’d’ya do on the ship, then?”

Shanks folded his arms and muttered something.

Franky blinked and leaned a little closer. “What?”

“I said I’m a cabin boy,” Shanks mumbled.

Franky snorted.

“Hey! Shut up!” Shanks said, elbowing him. “You’re like, seven, you don’t know anything.”

“You shut up, I’m ten!” Franky snapped, shoving him back, and Shanks tripped backwards over a twisted spur of metal and they both went down in a clumsy tangle of limbs, shoving and kicking.

A moment later, as if summoned by the crash, another head, this one indigo-haired and wrapped in a bandana, popped up from behind the nearest scrap pile. “Oi! Franky! Don’t start fights!”

Franky managed to twist around and yell, “I’m not! Shove off!” before going back to ineffectively trying to kick Shanks’s ribs in. It probably would have worked better had he been wearing shoes, but it was Franky’s philosophy that shoes (and long pants, and shirts most of the time) just got in the way.

Iceberg muttered something exasperated under his breath that Franky didn’t hear, and then vaulted over the crown of the scrap pile with practiced ease and skidded down the side. He hooked an arm around Franky’s chest and pried him free with little apparent difficulty, much to Franky’s irritation.

“Leggo, Icebrain!” Franky yelled, flailing against the hold. “Lemme go lemme go!”

Iceberg ignored him, turning to where Shanks was pulling himself up to a sitting position in the dirt. “I’m very sorry about him,” he said, and then smacked Franky across the back of the head with his free hand. “Don’t pick fights with customers!”

Franky huffed and folded his arms. “We weren’t fighting. We were making friends.”

“Yeah!” Shanks chirped from where he was still on the ground. There was a dark blur of oil smeared high on one cheek, his hair a ruffled mess, and he was still grinning sunshine-bright. “I like Franky. He’s funny.”

“Still,” Iceberg said crossly, pressing a thumb between his eyes like Franky and Shanks’s combined presences alone were enough to give him a migraine. “One of these days you'll get into it with someone who wants to actually hurt you!”

Franky just glared sullenly back at him until the older boy sighed in surrender and glanced back at Shanks. “Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m Iceberg.”

“I’m Shanks!” Shanks said. “So are you Franky’s brother?”

There was a beat of silence.

“What,” Iceberg said, looking absolutely horrified, at the same time that Franky yelled, “No way!” with a matching expression of disgust.

“Absolutely no relation-”

“-already annoying enough, can’t even imagine-”

“-the hair is just a coincidence-”

“-the actual worst-”

Shanks just laughed, grinning bemusedly and glancing back and forth between the two of them as they talked frantically over each other, before all of a sudden freezing and bringing his hands up to pat at his head. “Ah!”

Franky and Iceberg both paused mid-sentence at the exclamation, glancing over. “What?” Franky asked.

“My hat!” Shanks said, digging his fingers into his hair- and now that he mentioned it, Franky registered that the old straw hat he’d been wearing when he’d first introduced himself was nowhere to be seen.

Iceberg frowned, looking thoughtful. “Must have got knocked off in the tussle… I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

“I need to find it!” Shanks finally shoved himself to his feet, glancing frantically around.

Franky finally succeeded in squirming out of Iceberg’s grip, stomping hard on his foot and ducking under his arm. “What’s so special about it? ‘s just a hat. You can get another one.”

“No! It’s special, it was a present from my captain!” Shanks protested, actual distress clear in his voice. “I can’t lose it!”

“We’ll help you find it,” Iceberg said easily, making a calming motion with one hand. “It must’ve gotten picked up by the wind, but it still can’t be that far.”

They split up, scattering to cover more ground. The scrapyard was big and messy, sprawling out in all directions from the base of the bridge, but Franky figured a bright yellow hat tied with a red ribbon was bound to stand out against all the endless black and brown and grey.

A flicker of something moving towards the top of one of the taller scrap heaps caught his eye, and he tilted his head back, pressing one hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the morning sun.

It was Shanks’ hat, lodged on a twisted bit of wood that looked as though it had maybe once been a forepeak. Iceberg had been right- it must have gotten caught in one of the strong winds off the ocean. Franky squinted a little bit and the heap of wood and metal slid into focus as the decimated front half of a long-dead ship, slanting at an angle up into the air, half-buried in other assorted scrap and garbage.

“Oi!” he yelled over his shoulder. “I found it! Hang on, gonna grab it!”

Without bothering to wait for the other two to catch up, he hoisted himself up onto a slanted fragment of what had once been a hull, and began to climb. The wood was dehydrated after years of rotting beside the ocean, and slightly rough with crusted salt. Franky had plenty of practice climbing over these wrecks and ruins, though, and he knew the tricks to it- knew to stick to the metal bits wherever possible, since they were less likely to give under his weight.

“Franky! Be careful, dumbass!” he heard Iceberg’s voice holler up from the ground, nearly drowned out by Shanks’ enthusiastic cheering.

He grinned to himself and hauled himself up over a broken-off oar, pulled himself a few more feet along by a length of chain that had once looped around the deck, and was finally able to reach a hand out and snag the straw hat from its perch. The straw felt warm under his fingertips, like it had been drinking in the sun as it sat up there.

He needed both hands free to climb back down, so he set the hat on his own head for safekeeping, and started the descent. Once he was ten feet or so from the ground, he jumped, skidding down a tilted section of decking to tumble safely to the dirt. The hat’s rim flopped down over his eyes from the impact, and he scowled at the sound of Shanks’s laughter.

“Shut up!” he said as he shoved the brim back up, glaring up at him. “Or I won’t give it back!”

Rather gratifyingly, Shanks stopped laughing admittedly, though his grin stayed. “Sorry!” he said. “Thanks for getting it back for me.”

Franky shrugged, pulled the hat off his head and shoved it at Shanks, who took it immediately and settled it back on his head in a gesture that looked almost habitual. The golden straw was marked with a fresh collection of faint, smudgy black fingerprints in oil and engine grease.

Iceberg sighed in relief before glancing up at the sound of Kokoro’s low, gravelly voice calling his name from across the scrapyard. “Ah, I said I’d help her with the shopping today,” he said, turning away. “Don’t get into any more trouble while I’m gone.”

“Fuck off!” Franky yelled at his retreating back. “I never get into trouble!”

Iceberg snorted audibly, and waved without turning back.

“Bye! Thanks!” Shanks called after him, then returned to fussing with his hat, considering the blur of his reflection in a nearby steel panel, before turning around again.

“How do I look?” he asked with a grin.

“Dumb,” Franky said immediately. “What kinda pirate wears a straw hat, anyways?”

“Well, the Captain used to, and now he’s king of the pirates,” Shanks said, unfazed by the insult.

“Huh,” Franky said, because he couldn’t really argue with that. “Izzat why you wear it, then? To be a great pirate?”

“Nope!” Shanks said cheerfully, then frowned. “Well, I’m gonna do that too! For sure! But the hat is different. Captain asked me to keep it safe for him.”

“Safe?” Franky repeated, brow furrowing. “Didn’t you say he’s like, the best pirate ever? What’s he gotta be scared of?”

Shanks hesitated, then sat down on the ground next to Franky, leaning against the slanted section of deck. “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked. “You gotta promise not to tell. Really, really promise.”

“Promise,” Franky said, leaning a little closer, curious despite himself.

Shanks bit his lip, then said, “Captain’s dying.”

Franky’s head jerked up. Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been that. “What?”

Shanks nodded, and ducked his head, the brim of the straw hat hiding his eyes. “He’s sick, the kind that there’s no chance of getting better from. He’s trying to hide it, and he acts the same as ever, but the whole crew knows. Nobody wants to talk about it.”

He pulled his legs up to his chest, frowned down at his knees. “This is gonna be our last voyage,” he said. “We’re going all the way to the end of the Grand Line, all the way to the last island, and then… that’s it. There’ll be no more Roger Pirates. Everybody will just… go their separate ways. Like none of it ever happened. Like we didn’t turn the whole world upside down.”

Shanks brought a hand up to fiddle with the slightly frayed brim of the straw hat. “So… so that’s why I gotta keep his hat safe. Cause he asked me too, and he trusted me, and soon he’s not gonna be around anymore, so I gotta. Okay?”

Franky just nodded, looking down at the dirt between his feet. “Okay,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “I get it.”

Shanks glanced over at him. “You do?”

Franky thought about Tom, and his big hugs and bigger laugh and about how he’d feel if Tom was all of a sudden not there anymore, and nodded. “Yeah.”

The silence that fell around them at that was uncertain but not uncomfortable, and after a moment Shanks nudged Franky. “Hey. Y’know what?”

Franky looked up. “What?”

“In a couple years, I’m gonna start my own pirate crew,” Shanks said, “and live free on the sea! You should come with!”

Franky blinked twice. When he looked again, Shanks’s smile hadn’t given an inch. “...what?”

“You should join my pirate crew!” Shanks said. “I mean, someday in a couple years, once we’re older an’ everything. You can be our shipwright!”

Franky scowled, shaking his head vehemently and leaning away. “No way! I don’t wanna be a pirate!”

Shanks frowned. “Why not?” he asked, looking genuinely puzzled. “Pirates are freer than anyone! They can go wherever they want and do whatever they want and nobody can ever tell them what to do. It’s the best life there is!”

“Yeah, well,” Franky glared at the ground, hands balling up into fists, fingernails scratching at the dirt. “That’s- not always a good thing, y’know. Being able to just, leave, whenever you want, and- abandon anything you don’t want.”

“Oh,” Shanks said, a funny note in his voice, and then, after a long pause, “Is that... what happened to you?”

Franky hunched his shoulders higher, and didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” Shanks said, quieter.

“S’fine,” Franky mumbled. “I’m fine.” When Shanks didn’t say anything, he repeated more vehemently, “I’m fine. An’ it was a long time ago, anyways. I don’t even remember ‘em.”

“Still. Sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“But… there’s good pirates too, y’know,” Shanks said. “I mean, I know, there’s a lotta selfish assholes out there, but… a lotta good people, too! Like my crew!”

“...maybe,” Franky said reluctantly. “I mean. You’re not bad. For a pirate. I guess. Maybe.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” Shanks said, laughing. Franky rolled his eyes and elbowed him, but he was grinning, too.

“Shut up,” he said. “I’m still never gonna be a pirate, though. Never ever.”

Shanks shrugged. “Suit yourself, I guess. Too bad, though. I think you’d be a great pirate!”

“Yeah?” Franky said. “Well, you’d be a terrible shipwright.”

“Hey!”

Franky snorted with laughter at the offended look on the other boy’s face, and Shanks punched his shoulder and pouted dramatically, but Franky could see he was barely fighting down a smile as well.

In two years there would be an execution in Loguetown and a trial in Water Seven and nothing would ever be the same, but for right now there was just laughter and sunlight, and smudged fingerprints on a straw hat, and the ever-present music of waves against the shore.

“Hey, Franky! Whatcha making?” a familiar voice asked, bright and cheerful and right next to his ear.

“Huh? Oh, heya, Luffy,” Franky said with a welcoming grin, automatically stepping aside so his captain could squirm under his arm and get a look at his workbench. The table was wide and smooth, neatly organized with a stack of blueprints weighted down in one corner. Sitting in the center was a half-finished contraption of glossy, shiny chrome.

“I’m workin’ on an upgrade for Sunny’s cannons,” he explained, picking up the half-built machine and passing it over for Luffy to examine. Letting Luffy handle an invention for a couple minutes was a fantastic durability test. “I think I can get us more range and power if I can find a way to automatically compress the gunpowder for a bigger explosion. Marine ship stalking us, they think they’re outta range, and then BANG! Super, right?”

“That’s so cool!” Luffy said, bouncing in place. “You’re so cool, Franky. I’ve got the best shipwright in the whole world.”

Franky grinned. “The whole world, huh?”

“The whole world!” Luffy confirmed enthusiastically, and for a single stuttering second Franky was looking at a different boy with a worn straw hat and a grin like sunshine.

He blinked, and it was just Luffy again, and for a moment he could imagine a scattering of engine-grease fingerprints on the crown of his hat, long since cleaned away by the years.

“Hey… Luffy,” he said. “Did I ever ask where you got that hat of yours?”

#one piece #op #my fic #cyborg franky #franky #red-haired shanks #iceberg

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bayern-moni · 4 years

Note

True or dare : admit your feelings to someone you like or kill them.

Gin: Slightly drastic, Anon, aren't you? You would certainly get along with Aizen-taicho.

Aizen: What are you trying to imply, Gin?

Gin: Nothing, taicho, nothing you'd understand anyway.

Aizen: However, Gin, weren't you the one who bragged about having no heart nor feelings? This Anon here suggests otherwise. Were you lying to me?

Gin: I have absolutely nothing like that! I refuse to be thought of otherwise!

Aizen, smirking at the uncharacteristic irritation showed by his subordinate: As you say, Gin, but the ask speaks clearly. You have to admit your feelings, implied you must also admit you have them in the first place, or just killing your special person like the cold-hearted snake you claim to be. Are you sure you could get that far? I guess Hakufuku would be against the rules, this time. Now that I'm reminded of it, it's time you'd finally confess your undying love bla bla bla to that Matsumoto, isn't it? This is as good as a chance as any.

Gin: Were you ever told you're a massive son of a bitch, captain?

Aizen, looking unfazed and smirking: More or less since the day we met.

Gin: I assure you, you totally deserve the title.

Aizen: So do you, Gin. So do you.

He sipped his tea.

Gin's choice: Admit it or kill

Gin was at loss. Completely and utterly at loss of what to do. He had to admit his feelings to Rangiku. He knew he couldn't kill her, he could never bring himself to harm her, let alone kill her (he didn't even want to think about such things). Physically, at least, because hurting her emotionally seemed to be something he had always been good at. So he had to confess. He wasn't given any other choice. But ... was it really so necessary now? He had already waited for 109 years, a few more years or decades to collect some ideas on how to do it couldn't hurt much, could they? There weren't even guarantees that she wouldn't slap him to death as soon as he just appeared to start talking after all the shit he put her though. Or worse, she could accept. Though, she did cry when he died so maybe he hadn't literally all the odds against him in this endeavor. He didn't understand how, because in his vocabulary one that became a metaphorically human-eating monster didn't exactly had the needed curriculum to be still loved like that, but if she wanted to go on doing it he certainly wouldn't complain. So, how does he do it? He could ask for some advice, given he was totally blank in the matter. Izuru? Nah, scratch that, the boy couldn't say something like that without blushing to death to save his life. Rangiku was obviously out of question. Aizen? He'd rather die (again). Tosen? Absolutely not.

Shit.

"What are you doing here, Gin?" asked the red haired woman, spotting him standing in front of her door with a so dumbfounded look to be almost endearing. Almost.

Shit.

"Rangiku! Long time no see!" he tried to buy some time while his mental gears tried to put together something that wasn't outright idiotic or suicidal. Rangiku raised an eyebrow, skeptical. She looked too much like Aizen when she did that, Gin thought.

"I'm here to confess" managed to say at the end.

"Search for a priest, then"

"No, not that kind of a confession!" he was horrified just at the thought. Wrong start.

"Oh, you finally resigned to admit your feelings for me?" There was a mischievous spark in Rangiku's eyes that forebode nothing good for him. But she looked too happy for him to back down now.

"That's right" he still looked uncomfortable and she had every intention of getting back at him by prolonging this status of his as long as possible. They had the same nature at their core.

"You do know this is the least romantic confession in the history of love confession, right?" Now she was truly amused. He cringed. He loved her, he truly did, but this thing of feelings expression just wasn't for him at all. He couldn't do anything to help it, he was born like that. And she knew it.

"Yes, but you still love me, Rangiku"

Fuck you, Hisagi.

"Of course I do" she smiled, a curve so radiant enlightening her face that her warmth spread around his icy heart as well. "But I'm still waiting for my love confession, dear" another amused smile "Otherwise, I'll tell Unohana-taicho it was you that stole all her medical gauze that time to make poor Kira-kun look like a mummy" He gulped.

"If I did that, she'll probably neuter you or something equally gruesome, nobody was so suicidal to actually defy her ire; so we can only guess how it's ending up on her bad side. Then, do you want to go on? Ah, I always wished for a day like this, I'm so happy, Gin!" Nevermind she had just threatened him if he didn't say anything.

He had truly never had a choice, then. But in the end, it wasn't so bad like his always too paranoid mind was dreading. She did love him, after all.

He smiled. Genuinely for once. And then he went down on his knee.

Gin had every intention of making this the most dramatic and tooth-rotting love confession Rangiku had ever heard. He wanted to be so sappy that Rangiku'd be laughing on the floor by the time he was finished.

So much he'd putting all those rubbish romantic comedies she so loved to shame.

Aizen: It went better than I expected. And here I thought you were going to confess to me.

Gin: If I didn't know better I'd say you are jealous, taicho. Just a few lines before, you actually sounded bitter like you thought of yourself like a nosy third-wheel between me and my lovely Ran-chan.

Aizen: I'm not, of course.

Gin: Sure you are. Nosy and third-wheel, I mean.

Aizen: Mind your words, Gin. Remember that I can decide to make you scrub every toilet in Las Noches anytime and you can't refuse. I even bought a new set of toothbrushes for you to use.

Gin: Are you aware that I did blow a hole in your chest and had Shinso poison you to death?

Aizen: I didn't die, though. It must mean something.

Gin: That you're more difficult to kill than an army of cockroachs? Seriously, taicho, how on earth did you think I was going to admit my supposed feelings to you of all people? We abundantly satisfied the second part of the ask by now.

Aizen: Love and hate are just different sides of the same coin. Merely preconceptions created by humans that didn't get to have their way. So it was entirely possible in a theoretical way.

Gin: ... Sure. And what about you killing me? It'd surely kill the mood, other than, well, me.

Aizen: I just wanted to show you how it's properly done. And in my defense, at the time I felt deeply betrayed.

Gin: Ooh, the understatement of the century. Should I also thank you now, taicho?

Aizen: Gin, you're being overdramatic. We're straying from the topic at hand.

Gin: That is you trying to guilt trip me into confessing to you?

Aizen: Exactly

Gin: You're wasting your time, captain. I'm already taken. Moreover, in your case I'd pick "or kill them" anyday.

Aizen: Where I'm from, It is called denial, Gin.

Aizen's choice: Admit it or kill

It was a night like no-one had ever seen in Hueco Mundo, the eternal darkness softly embraced by the light of brighter moon. The palace of Las Noches was uncharacteristically quiet and only a perturbed voice from the innermost hall of the court could be heard. This voice was smooth and full of emotion, a particular tone that belied its bearer's strangeness with such sincerity. The flow of words like a musical stream of sweetness.

"You are the only one that matter to me, your frame is so lovely that even gods invy you, your existence like a balm for my exhausted nerves. The way eternal shades reflect on the soft lines of your perfection warms my once dead heart like nothing else. You are my whole, you're the existence I couldn't live without. I adore you"

"Taicho, why are you talking to the mirror?" asked Gin and cleared his throat to hide his baffled expression.

"Wasn't the Anon the one who asked for us to admit our feelings to someone we like?" replied Aizen like nothing was wrong.

"And are you talking with the mirror?"

"Yes, I am"

"... Nevermind. I don't want to know"

Part of the Truth or Dare Challenge featuring Gin and Aizen I started yesterday. For the Anon that requested it, I really hope you like it or that at least it made you laugh. Bye bye, everyone!

#bleach #gin ichimaru #gin x rangiku #gin #aizen sousuke #aizen #bleach aizen #aizen x ?#rangiku matsumoto #rangiku #unohana #inappropriate use of tea cup and mirror #Aizen's fault #character meme #ask #anonymous #anon ask #truth or dare challenge #headcanon

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katedoesfics · 4 years

Text

Shadows of Hyrule | Chapter 2

Link was at his locker just seconds after the last bell rang. He tossed his bag over his shoulder and waited for Mipha as he typically did. They pushed through the end-of-the-day crowd as students milled about the halls. When they reached the front door, they spilled out with the other students, trotting down the front steps. Link turned when he heard his name and saw Daruk waving an arm. Link and Mipha walked over to the group of seniors that stood at the corner of the building. Urbosa greeted Link with a smile, her hand on her hip, as he and Mipha approached. Teba gave a short nod with his chin, and Revali turned his back, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you two doing tonight?” Daruk asked.

“Studying,” Mipha said with a slight groan.

“Sleeping,” Link said with a smirk.

Mipha rolled her eyes, turning around as she heard Riju’s voice. The freshman skipped towards them and waved enthusiastically.

“Can we go to the arcade?” she asked her sister.

“That depends,” Urbosa said. “Don’t you have homework?”

“Don’t you?” Riju said. She leaned forward, her hands on her hips.

“I don’t know how she does it,” Daruk said, “but she probably has homework finished for the next six weeks.”

Urbosa grinned down at her sister. “It’s true,” she said.

“Just because you’re already accepted into college doesn’t mean you don’t have to do work.”

“She could get zeros for the rest of the year and they would still fight over her,” Teba said.

“Because I did my homework,” Urbosa said.

“I always do my homework!” Riju whined.

“Don’t you think you’re a little old for arcades, now?”

Riju shook her head and grinned. “I gotta make sure I still have the high score.” She turned to Link. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll kick your ass at air hockey again.”

Revali snorted. “It’s not hard to kick his ass.”

“Shut up,” Daruk snapped at him.

“Link.”

Link looked around him. He noticed Zelda standing outside the black town car that always picked her up. Dorian opened the door for her. She peered at Link over her shoulder before she slid in.

“Um,” Link started. “Maybe tomorrow. I gotta go.” He glanced quickly at Daruk. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Daruk raised a brow but nodded. “See ya.”

He said good-bye to Mipha and waved a had over his shoulder as he made his way away from them. Normally, he and Mipha walked home together, but he didn’t question it when she did not follow him. He hadn’t planned on going straight home, anyway.

“Link.”

It seemed to come from his left as he made his way down the road. Traffic passed lazily by in the school zone. He hesitated at the intersection, then opted to follow the direction of the voice to his left across the street. He followed the sidewalk as it moved down the next street, but the voice did not return. He continued on aimlessly as the road curved through the city until he heard the voice again, almost a half an hour later. This time, it came from his right.

Link looked in the direction of the voice. He was moving away from the center of the city, now, and the roads had started to grow narrower as they wound their way through suburban neighborhoods. He took one of the suburban roads to the right and followed it further towards the outskirts of the city. A bus turned onto the road behind him, chugging along before coming to a slow, squeaky stop just yards in front of him. A group of young children jumped off the last step, chasing each other across yards as they headed for their homes.

“Link.”

The voice moved towards another side street marked with a dead end sign. Link hesitated as he peered down the road. He couldn’t see the dead end from where he stood, but tall power lines loomed close by. He followed the dead end road as it twisted around, ending in a cul-de-sac. There were only two houses at the end, one on the left side, and one on the right. Before him was the start of the woods that would open up to where the power lines stood. And the voice seemed to call him forward into the trees.

He followed an overgrown path as it twisted through the forest, walking only a quarter of a mile where he stood in the tree line. The ground sloped upwards slightly to his left and was leveled off where he stood, and further on to his right until it met a small river. A narrow bridge crossed the river, and a lone car traveled across it. Across from where he stood was another tree line. The woods appeared to be much denser, and if he walked completely through it, he imagined he would come out by the interstate just outside the city. The voice beckoned him across the power lines and deeper into the woods.

“What are you doing here?”

He was halfway across the strip when he heard Zelda’s voice to his right. She made her way towards him, her gaze narrowed on him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “Were you following me?”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Why the hell would I follow you?”

“So, why are you here?”

“Why are you here?”

Link hesitated. “Meeting my dealer.”

Zelda’s eyes narrowed further.

Link decided to ignore her and continued on toward the tree line, but Zelda trotted after him.

“You’re following the voice, too,” she said as she caught up to him.

Link paused and glanced at her. “Why are you following it?”

Zelda shrugged. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I wanted to know what the hell it was.” She followed Link as he walked forward once more and they stepped into the woods, following the sound of the voice in silence.

They walked for close to an hour before the trees began to thin around them. Before they knew it, there was a small clearing in the forest where a very large tree stood in the middle. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through its branches, casting the meadow in a golden glow. Before the tree, plunged into a stone pedestal, was an old sword. Though the blade appeared rusted, the hilt shone like new.

“Link.”

“What the hell?” Zelda muttered. “Is that a sword?”

Link ignored her and stepped forward, examining the sword. As he neared, he felt a strange sensation, a pull in his chest, as if the sword itself were calling him to it. He hesitated, peering at the sword, before finally closing the gap between him and it. He touched the hilt carefully with the tip of his finger, pushing against it lightly to see if it would move, but the sword seemed to be stuck in the pedestal.

“Don’t touch it,” Zelda whispered. “We should leave it alone.”

But Link’s curiosity peaked as his fingers wrapped around it. He was filled with a strange sense of power as he gripped the sword. It fit perfectly in his palm, and in one swift movement, he pulled the sword out of the stone pedestal. It gleamed in the sunlight, surprisingly lighter than it looked. Zelda hissed from behind him.

“What did you do that for?”

Link examined the sword closely. The voice had settled, seemingly satisfied that Link had retrieved it.

“What are you gonna do with it?”

Link turned to Zelda and shrugged. “Keep it.”

She narrowed her gaze on him. “Why? What do you want with that dirty old thing?”

“It’s cool.”

Zelda rolled her eyes and turned her back to him. “I don’t hear the voice anymore.” She peered over her shoulder, her gaze on the sword for a moment. She turned her gaze to meet Link’s. She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it, turning away to walk back through the forest.

Link let the blade rest against his shoulder as he followed Zelda through the woods. He asked the question she had decided not to ask. “Do you think… Do you think the voice came from the sword?”

“You’re insane,” Zelda muttered. “Someone was just fucking with us.”

“Why would someone do that?”

Zelda shrugged. “Maybe they committed a murder with that thing and they wanted to frame you.”

They were both quite sure that that wasn’t the case, but neither particularly wanted to talk about the strange voice and the fact that it was only the two of them that could hear it.

“I can’t believe I wasted my afternoon coming out here,” Zelda muttered. “I should have been studying for that test.”

Link snorted, and Zelda narrowed her eyes at him over her shoulder, turning her nose up at him.

“Some of us actually want to have a future,” she said to him. She pushed herself gracefully over a large, fallen tree, while Link stumbled over clumsily behind her, dropping the sword in the old, rotted leaves.

“You're the princess of Hyrule,” he commented as he got back to his feet. He dusted himself off and picked up the sword, then continued to follow her out of the woods. “You can have any future you want.”

Zelda stopped and spun on her heels angrily. She opened her mouth, then closed it again as her gaze landed on the sword in his hand. She pinched her lips together, huffed through her nose, and turned around to continue through the woods. “I guess. Besides, you know, being expected to take the throne.”

“Doesn't sound like a bad deal to me.”

“Who said I even wanted any part of it?”

Link hesitated. He examined the ground as he walked, being careful not to trip on any hidden roots. “You don't?”

“I don't know,” Zelda muttered.

“We can trade.” He looked up and grinned at her as he met her gaze. “I'll drive all the nice cars and you can deal with my sister.”

Zelda raised a brow at him. “You have a sister?”

Link shrugged and kept walking, taking the lead. “You're too high maintenance for her.”

“Excuse me?” Zelda trotted to Link's side. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Link grinned, too happy to be getting under her skin. But instead of answering her, he just shrugged.

They stepped out of the tree line, the warmth of the sun greeting them. Link let the sword rest against his shoulder once more and waved to Zelda over his shoulder as he stepped away from her, moving across the field. “See ya.”

It didn't take him long to get home, but the sun had dipped below the distant mountains enough to cast their world in a quiet twilight. The air had cooled, the streetlights had turned on, and birds began their delicate, nightly calls to the emerging crickets. Link held the sword carefully behind his back as he slipped through the front door. To his relief, neither his sister nor his father were in the kitchen.

He closed the door softly behind him and made a quick stop at the fridge. He peered inside, searching for something to satisfy his grumbling stomach. He reached his arm in, jumping at a voice and bumping his head. He looked over the door of the fridge to the young girl that stood on the other side, a wide grin on her face.

“You missed dinner,” she teased.

“Did you save me any?”

She rolled her eyes. “Dad wouldn't let me. But...” She pulled a container from behind her back and held it out to him.

“I've trained you well,” Link said, straightening and closing the refrigerator door.

“Don't be late again or Dad will kick your butt.”

Link raised a brow as he peered into the container. “Is that what he said?”

Aryll giggled. “He said you're a no good lazy dumbass and he's gonna kick you to the curb.”

“Don't say dumbass, Ary.”

Aryll rolled her eyes. “Dad says you're gonna drop out of high school and do nothing with your life.”

“That doesn't sound like a bad thing. I like doing nothing.”

Aryll's face hardened in child-like seriousness. “Dad says -”

“Do you listen to everything Dad says? You know he hates me.”

Aryll crossed her arms. “No he doesn't, stupid. He just wants you to be a better person.”

“You sound just like him.”

Aryll peered around him curiously. “What's that?”

“Nothing.” Link pushed her aside and walked around her, being careful to keep the sword hidden from her.

“You're hiding something!”

Link walked backwards and grinned. “Non'ya business.”

“I'm gonna tell Dad!”

“Go head,” Link taunted. “And I'll tell him that you were the one that ate all the cookies.”

Aryll gasped as he rounded the corner into the hallway. He trotted hurriedly up the stairs, down the hall, and slipped behind the door into his bedroom. He tossed the sword carelessly into his closet, stripped out of his shirt, and dropped onto his bed with a heavy sigh. He tilted his head towards his alarm clock. It was only seven, which left plenty of time to ignore his homework and take a nap.

#legend of zelda #breath of the wild #loz #botw #fic #fanfic #shadows of hyrule #soh #chapter 2 #soh2

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years

Text

Stay Ch. 16

Master List

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Angst, and fluff, and feels oh my!

A/N: So yeah I swear I wroth an authors note for this... but idfk what happened.

ANYWAY! Thank you all for being so patient while I got my life together. This one is also short and sweet (guess that’s the mood I’m in). However, y’all should know me by now. This is just the calm before the storm.

Hope you enjoy this one my pumpkins!

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @5aftermidnight@jeromethepsycho @marvel-randomness @daniellajocelyn @katecolleen @yanginginthere@wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @lesbian-girls-wayhaught @siriuslycloudy2

March 2007

At some point in the last five months, you’d stopped recognizing yourself. The woman in the mirror wasn’t Y/N. Her hair was different, down to even the eyebrows. Her accent distinctly that of a life long Londoner. She worked for an independent UK couture fashion magazine, chose wine over whiskey, and was distinctly heterosexual.

When the chance to work this job requiring deep cover came up in December you jumped on it. You didn’t want to be you anymore. The you that couldn’t be with the woman you loved. The you that was heartbroken. The you who was beginning to doubt that you’d ever be happy. Fuck her.

Being Charlie Daniels was far better. She was, of course, a real person. Just one who was now living comfortably in the Bahamas courtesy of MI6. Even legit agencies had use of freelance talent every now and then.

Settling into her life had been easy. Not setting her boss on fire or blowing his brains out daily was a different task altogether. Turned out that a magazine was a great front for a crime empire. Lots of international travel, young and beautiful and desperate men and women, money exchanged in countless untraceable ways, on and on. And this fucker was happy to take advantage of every single disgusting avenue it opened up.

You almost had everything you needed to hand to MI6, get your obscenely large payout, and get on to another gig while they threw all of these bastards into cells to rot for the rest of their miserable lives. Just one more trip. After whatever horrible things they lay out in Tokyo you’ll be set.

Tokyo is one of those cities you can lose yourself in. Like New York but better for its interesting balance of vibrancy and grounded reserve. You absolutely love it.

The whole point of the trip, at least on the surface, was to focus on Fashion Week Tokyo. Honestly, there was a part of you that wished this was your world. Nothing but runway shows and after parties. Writing about the latest trends rather than delving into the inner workings of the worlds miscreants

Oh well. It was nice enough to pretend. You had to admit that you’d miss Charlie Daniels once you shed this skin in a couple of weeks.

You’re sitting two people down from your boss at an underground show. The level of security here screams that there are other things going on behind the scenes but it’s still a room filled with a who’s who of the Japanese and international fashion communities.

This was your third show of the day, and you knew there would be a party after where you’d have to schmooze all while plucking information from your unsuspecting fellow guests. You’re exhausted. So rather than pay much attention to the show you let your mind wander.

When she walks out you feel her rather than see her. Slowly you turn your head to stare dumbstruck at the model walking onto the catwalk. Your heart begins beating against your ribs, your mouth goes dry, your hands shake.

It takes every ounce of control you have to keep your emotions in. To not scream “Natasha!” at the top of your lungs. To not grab her and run for the hills. Charlie Daniels and her easy life be damned. It’s hard but you manage.

As she turns and comes back down, passing now closer to you, her eyes don’t graze the crowd at all. Head up, shoulders back, she walks the runway like she’d been doing it for years.

The rest of the show is maybe ten minutes but it feels like years. You know the models are all attending the party. Eye candy for the high end guests.

It’s fairly easy to ditch your coworkers in the crowd as you try to find the best vantage point in the room without being too obvious. After a solid twenty minutes, you find yourself planning an escape route. Most of the models are milling about but she’s no where to be seen. You will find her.

But you know you can’t skip out just yet. At the bar, you order a red wine and make yourself seen. Charlie would never miss the whole party after all. You spend a bit chatting with designers and a few models, feigning interest in the whole thing until you hear your boss call out to you.

“Oy, Charlie!” Carl’s voice alone makes you want to put him down. When you turn he’s waving you over to the bar. Sighing heavily you head over.

You’re about ten feet away when you see her, head back laughing at something Carl or his friend had said. Both men are far to close to her for your liking and the hungry look on Carl’s face sets your blood boiling.

He slings an arm around your shoulders and you carefully coach your face to not show disgust. “Charlie here is my best writer. Doin’ some pieces for us on this whole thing,” he waves his other hand around wildly.

“Good to meet ya, Charlie, I’m Dan,” the other man, clearly American says.

“Likewise,” Natasha doesn’t react to the accent at all.

“This here is-”

“Natalie,” Natasha cuts him off, extending a hand to you. Holding her eyes with yours you take it. It’s like touching a live wire.

“Natalie is an American model working here in Japan. May be a good topic for a piece.” He ribs you leaning closer, “And a good piece for the office eh?” Suddenly that MI6 money seems far less appealing.

“I’d love that,” Natasha beams. “Why don’t you guys go mingle and Charlie and I can chat!” The men exchange a glance, but there’s plenty of fresh meat around to sink their teeth into.

Carl flashes you a greasy smile and a wink as he walks away. Thinking clearly that you’re going to snare this woman for him. You, unfortunately, had a few others. Not something you were proud of. Demands of the job you told yourself.

“She’ll take a vodka neat,” you tell the bartender.

“Yes,” Natasha smiles at him, “Whiskey for her. Makers if you have it.” He thinks nothing of it and makes your drinks.

“So, how’s modeling in Japan?”

“Probably about as good as writing for a sleazy jackal.”

You laugh, “That bad? What’s the goal.”

“Getting a cover,” you commend the clever word play.

“That’s a good goal. Long term?”

“Something like that.” She takes a sip of her vodka, “How long are you here?”

“End of the week.” Your skin itches to touch her. The men are rounding back. You hold her gaze and shift your eyes back to them. She catches on.

“Perfect! It’s so hard to have a good interview here, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you come by my hotel?” You whip out your spare key card. “I’d love to get your story for the mag, maybe do a full feature.”

“A feature would be excellent exposure!”

“Wouldn’t it?” Carl slides up next to her. “We can get you all the exposure you could want Ms. Natalie.”

“Charlie was telling me all about it.” She flashes him a coy smile. “Thank you so much Charlie! I forgot I have a late fitting tonight for another show so I’ve got to run. But we’ll chat soon yeah?”

“Absolutely! It was so good to meet you Natalie.”

“Same! Bye!” She hurries through the crowded room and disappears.

“Busy girl.” Carl quips. “Whiskey?” You look down at the glass by your hand.

“Some guy sent them over,” you gesture to Natasha’s lipstick stained glass. “Seemed rude to refuse. Can’t stand the stuff though.”

“That’s a mans drink,” Carl laughs at his own perceived joke and you force a smile.

Somehow you make it through the rest of the evening. You’d refused to allow yourself to hope that she’d be here, too obvious to come the same night, better to wait. Kicking off your shoes you head straight to the mini bar and crack open a whiskey, downing it in one gulp.

“You really need to be more careful,” Natasha’s voice comes from the bathroom. “I mean not even checking around. Sloppy.”

“Charlie Daniels doesn’t have to check for Russian assassins in her bathroom,” a smile pulls your face so tight it hurts.

“Well, Natalie Rushman isn’t a Russian spy. So…”

You let your real accent resurface as you pull her into your arms, “Natalie Rushman, I don’t know if that’s clever or lazy.” She kisses you hard, tongue sliding over your lips hands gripping your ass.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Kinda like the accent.”

“Oh?” You revert to the clipped posh Londoner sound. “Would you rather be with Charlie? I hate to break it to you, she’s strictly into dick so you may need to get a bit creative.”

Natasha’s head falls back with laughter, “I’m always into a challenge but,” she cups your face in her hands, “I’d much rather Y/N, she’s got a cute accent too.” Your kiss is soft this time, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, honey.” Gently you push a strand of hair out of her face. “Is this smart? Are you gonna get-”

“I’m good. I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was risk.” She pulls away and tugs you toward the bed. “There’s no surveillance on me here, I check in every week, that’s it. This is strictly to build a cover.”

“Cover for what?” She gives you a sideways glance. “Right. National security.”

“Do you really want to talk about work?”

Smirking at her you push her back on the bed. “Maybe later.”

You lean down to her but she stops you by planting a strappy heel in the center of your chest. Trailing your fingers down her leg you snag a knife from her thigh holster. Carefully you slide the blade under the straps, the incredibly sharp edge cuts through the thin suede like it’s nothing.

“Those were very expensive you know,” eyes sparkling with desire.

You slip the shoe off and toss it aside. “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Your lips press against her ankle.

Everything in your life until her was so fleeting. Even your own name, the sound of your own voice, who you were… But with her, you were grounded. You weren’t anything but her’s, you were Y/N.

Suddenly you’re overwhelmed. Caressing her muscular calf you just stare at her eyes. Emerald green, dark liner, lids heavy with lust and exhaustion.

“Natasha…” Your voice cracks and you fight for composure.

“Y/N? What is it?” She shoots up, cradling your face in her hands.

You shake your head, unable to really find the words and unwilling to send this storm of emotions to her. “I just…” You cover her hands with your own. It’s not that you don’t want her, you do. But…

“Can we just… I just wanna hold you…” Her expression immediately softens, eyes sparkling a touch with tears. “Sorry… I… I just…”

“I’d love that, baby.” Tenderly her lips brush yours, then your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids as they flutter closed.

You shed your clothes and crawl into the plush bed. Holding tight to one another you spend hours drifting in and out of sleep, covering the other with soft kisses. Before the sun rises your hands wander southward.

This time you don’t fuck one another senseless. It feels like you’re trying to memorize every curve, every sound, every subtle thing that marks being together. You both know you many not get to do this for some time. The knowledge aches but it doesn’t make having her any less sweet.

Post Snap

You lean your head back on the wall behind the booth. The crying man from last night is gone, you find yourself hoping that he’s resting peacefully somewhere… even though you know it’s pointless to hope for such things.

There are more people filling the bar than there was before. The TVs are off, radios turned up, reporters frantically trying to determine what happened. It was global, that was clear. All planes grounded, trains stopped, communications spotty due to damaged cell towers.

A man speaks frantically to someone who seems to be a friend that he was heading to Nuremberg from Budapest, how the roads are almost not navigable. He doesn’t know if his family is even still there but he has to find out.

Despite his distress, your lips curl a bit at the mention of Budapest.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow #queer fic #wlw

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