#might not resonate with many. might not even be the hopeful amazing tone i usually keep up in this blog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clouds-rambles · 3 years

Note

Just had a jimmy neutron brain blast-

Hear me out; modern au with xiao or childe but the reader is a videogame character (from genshin or some other game) that gets isekaid into xiao/childes world. Can be a head cannon or one shot, whatever you want to do! hope I'm not bothering you, have a nice night/day/evening!<3

Big brain moment!! Isekai is (in theory) one of my favourite genres I love the concept of just being stuck in an amazing new world. I blame that on my escapism lmao :)

Happy birthday Xiao! I might write something else for your today!

Hi 1k words of me rambling, hope it makes sense lmao

Pairing(s); Xiao x reader

Warnings;

Keep reading under the cut!

You were just having tea with Morax when the feeling of falling had suddenly came over you. You try and reach out to the god before he disappears from view.

You land loudly on your feet and curse louder at the brief shooting pain through your leg. You take in the scene around you and you’re confronted by strange technologies that you go to touch the kettle like device before you hear someone trying their best to keep quiet. You take a step back from the kettle and summon your polearm.

“I can hear you, come out no” you order tapping the claymore on the floor in anticipation

“[name]?” the man questions revealing himself from the shadows of the room

“Not many know me by name mortal. So, pray do tell, how do you?” you ask staring the man down readying your polearm.

Xiao, a university student and a dance major. He’s been playing Genshin Impact casually for about two months now usually in the evenings when he’s not running through dance routines on campus. Xiao is a secluded an so his father, Zhongli, wanted to set Xiao up as comfortable as possible, if an apartment by himself was what he needed that’s surely what Xiao would get.

“I think you’re actually [name], from Liyue” he states bluntly. You nod

“Get to the point” you order pushing your claymore closer to Xiao’s face

“You’re from a game I play” he states bluntly

“Sorry, what”

It’s been a few days since you had fallen into this reality and you’ve settled in nicely into Xiao’s schedule. You had been lucky that you landed right at the start of Xiao’s holiday. He has tried to tell you about the things of this world, you haven’t understood much and the thought of so much population kind of scares you.

You feel like if Liyue was to look like this in a thousand or so years would you really feel at home there as you do now? Would a Liyue like this city need a yaksha like you? Would they need someone to protect them? You have to wonder if this was the reason why Morax gave up his mortality and godhood, perhaps he already saw a future like this...

You look to Xiao who had decided to go to the studio today as he twists into the music he’s dancing to and smile a little. Maybe being cast out from Teyvat isn’t all bad, you haven’t taken and enjoyed the company of mortals since you felt similar confines of mortality thousands of years ago.

At the other side of the studio there’s a clanging of a door being kicked open

“And who was going to tell me that my bestie has had a girl over all week?” the short man asks interrupting Xiao’s dance sequence

“It’s not like that Venti, and you know it” Xiao sighs putting his hands on his hips and staring down the friend

“Another mortal?” you ask standing up and leaning into the newcomers space

“Shit Xiao you never told me they look like [name]” he looks to the other with a laugh. You blink a few times

“I am the [name] you speak of, under normal circumstances humans don’t see me” you tell the man your brows tightly knitted together

“They’re not joking” Xiao tells the shorter man “It’s a long story that I won’t be telling you” he adds turning away from the two of you and puts the song back at the beginning

“So you’re really the yaksha [name]?” the man asks, you raise a brow at him and channel the power of anemo to shove a burst of wind in the mans face

“You think I need to prove it to you?” you ask with a chuckle “What’s your name human?” you ask looking down at the shorter man

“I’m Venti” he grins shoving a hand for you to shake, you don’t “I do music but if it’s artistic I do it” he adds. You nod.

“You know I was saved by a guy kind of like you millennia ago” you confess with a smile at the memory

“When you were overcome with nightmares right? By Barbatos?” Venti asks and you frown

“It unnerves me how much you know, and how much you freely speak about it” you confess looking to Xiao who’s restarted his dance routine. Venti giggles your words before watching Xiao again

“What’s it like there? In Liyue?” Venti asks, you chuckle at him and raise your brow

“Don’t you play the game?” you ask, Venti nods

“It’s not the same though” he argues and you sigh

You tell Venti about all your favourite places, you talk about what the Harbour is like during the lantern festival and what it’s like sitting with Morax to drink tea and your meetups with Ganyu to drag her out of burying herself in work

“Do you miss it?” Venti asks, and you laugh again and pat his shoulder

“I’m not sure your mortal brain can comprehend what I miss” you respond and walk outside.

Venti’s question weighs on your brain. Did you truly miss it? Sure you miss Morax and Ganyu, but really? The adepti are a dying breed, being here is probably better than being forgotten by Liyue, this world will never ask of you.

“Doing alright?” you hear Xiao ask from behind you, you hum in response “If Venti said something I can always beat him into shape” he adds with a chuckle at his humour. You shake your head and smile to Xiao

“Do you wanna see something cool?” you ask stepping closer to Xiao who takes a moment and then nods approving of your request. You stand behind Xiao, take his hands and with the power of anemo you start flying in the air

“This is how I get around Liyue” you tell Xiao in a hushed tone, he feels your breath brush against his ear

“Wow” he breaths, Xiao’s cheeks heat up a little as you float over the university campus. You close your eyes and continue to feel the pressure of Xiao’s body and the lightness of the anemo beneath your feet

“How do you feel?” you ask Xiao with a grin

“Is it odd to say I feel at home in the air?” he asks breathing in the air around him. He feels you shake your head behind him

“Visions are a complicated thing, I wouldn’t be surprised if people of other realities could resonate” you answer, you hold Xiao in the air for a little longer holding his presence. You notice Xiao taking in the scenery almost breathless.

“Xiao! [name]! We going for dinner or not?” Venti yells up to the both of you. Xiao jumps a little since he was so zoned out just floating in the air

“Dinner?” you ask as you descend

“Mm, Venti breaks into my apartment if I don’t eat dinner with him at least once a week” Xiao grumbles as you lower him onto the ground. You nod

“Goldet, the boss of the Inn I used to stay at would come up with almond tofu” you reply with a smile “I never liked it much but a close friend said it reminded him of eating dreams, it was my way of keeping close to him” you confess with a soft smile

“Almond Tofu is my favourite” Xiao informs you walking over to Venti

“He never shuts up about the Almond Tofu” Venti jokes patting Xiao on his shoulder, Xiao glares at the former. You smile at them and their friendship.

Dinner was nice, Venti recommended something for you to eat and you more than liked it. After dinner Venti parts ways with you and Xiao takes the both of you back to the apartment.

The two of you lounge on the couch, the telly plays some ridiculous late night tv show as the both of you sit. You find yourself leaning your head on Xiao’s shoulder a yawn escaping you. You don’t notice Xiao smile at you and close his eyes to relax with you. You close your eyes another yawn escaping you.

It isn’t often you have to sleep considering your immortal adepti status but sometimes, especially when extremely comfortable and relaxed, you find yourself dozing off.

Your dreams, when not getting infected with darkness, are filled with hopes of this new world you’ve found yourself and the new mortal companion beside you.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #xiao

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

i have an angst request, i guess??

could you imagine the reaction when MC and a brother are cuddling, being real sweet and tender, rubbing sensitive bits of skin ect.

MC stares off for a bit and the brother thinks they’re being nostalgic but when they ask what they’re thinking about 😘 MC just says “oh? i’m just remembering that i’m a potential food source for you guys 🙃“

~My first request! Yay!~

I hope you like it. I just picked just 3 brothers that I thought would be fun. But if you want more lemme know!

Lucifer

Quality time with him is rare. He's a busy demon after all.

But after an unsightly incident a few years back he has been trying to take some time out of the day for himself. It is also the perfect excuse to have some quality time alone with you.

He likes to have you sitting on top of him while he lounges. Your weight and heartbeat were soothing. A living noisemaker.

It has become a routine now. You come and rest with him and enjoy each other's company.

This time you were a little distant. Your eyes constantly track the motions and actions of his mouth. You seem fixated on every little thing he does. From a sip of his drink to the way he scowls while reading the evening news. You’re mesmerized by something.

He takes it as you reliving the taste and feel of his lips on yours. He'd be happy to give you a reenactment. But, when he leans in for a kiss, he senses...fear?

No. Surely you had gotten over that little mortal hurdle. For all things unholy, he hasn't even threatened you in over a year.

He'll pry, demanding a reason for your sudden apprehension. If anything to mask his own fear with righteous indignation.

When you tell him it takes a lot of effort not to laugh. It wasn't a ridiculous notion. He had indulged once or twice in his younger years-not that he would tell you. The thought had crossed his mind not that he would tell you. But really you would have been dog food before he would put any effort into it.

He'll brush your concern off. He has no interest in your flesh in such a rudimentary form. Now that pretty little soul of yours was another matter...

“You seem- distracted.” Lucifer’s purrs against your temple kissing it tenderly. His deep rumble resonates down your spine. “What are you thinking about γλυκιά μου?” He drags a razor-sharp canine down your neck teasingly. “Something good perhaps?”

“No, sorry.” You burrow closer to his chest. “Just had a… thought.” Lucifer’s thumb stills, halting the teasing pattern he had been tracing into your thigh. He scowls brushing his nose across the crown of your head. If you were thinking of anything other than him, then he was doing this wrong.

That thought was… offending. He had carved out a spot for you in his already ridiculous schedule, and yet you seemed miles away. Normally these precious moments were spent with you snuggling close loving his undivided attention, and him loving yours in kind.

Tonight your demeanor was so demure. You clung to him as usual, soft lips trailing down his jaw to the little sliver of exposed skin from where he had loosened his tie hours ago. But, it just felt like you were just going through the motions. “Speak.” A request and order in one.

"If given the chance, would you eat me?"

"What?" Lucifer cups the back of your head and pulls you away to make eye contact. "What?" He balks, eyes wide. His expression was completely undignified. That certainly wasn't what he was expecting.

You explain to him about a conversation you had overheard in your early days of the exchange program. For some reason, it just hit you then at the feel of his mouth on you.

"I- hmmm. Personally, I would have fed you to Cerberus. I don't particularly enjoy the taste of human flesh." He settles back into his office chair unfazed. He thought he had something to worry about. "Besides, I have come to find I like you warm and breathing." He pinches your side teasingly ready to get the evening back on track.

"Wait! You thought about it!?" His blasé tone takes you aback.

Lucifer knocks his forehead into yours with a snicker. "Not too hard. Besides you'd probably give my pups indigestion with all the trouble you’ve turned out to be."

Beelzebub

He likes to spend time with you at his favorite cafe. The one with the little tea cakes and great sandwiches.

Normally you will spend a weeknight there studying and munching together. One hand scribbling away in your notebook and the other engulfed in his large hand. By the end of the night though, you always find your legs interwoven with his and his ginger head resting on top of yours.

He is full and happy. So happy in fact, he steals a kiss, and then another.

It’s a good thing he picked a booth in the back so the rest of the cafe can ignore the couple nestled closer and closer in the back. He sneaks a few more peaks in here and there, whispering softly. It was going great until- He hadn’t expected to feel you lock up. Was it something he said?

You’re embarrassed when he pulls away and tries to brush it off. You just got swept up in some thoughts, no biggie.

He won’t pry, he gets it, it happens to him too. But, when you untangle yourself from him he has to know what’s up.

When you tell him he is distraught. Because he 100% has and probably still will eat a person. He might have munched on a witch that had pissed him off just the other day…

What he hates most is he can’t really lie and deny that he hasn’t thought about it.

“You taste amazing.” His words ghost over your lips as he savors the sweet mix of your coffee and natural flavor. You always taste like spiced oranges and honey when your lips brush. It’s intoxicating. Suddenly the flavor of you changes, a sour note hits his tongue. You go still and look out across the small cafe.“Are you ok?”

You pull away blinking rapidly. “Yeah-sorry.” You chuckle humorlessly. “Just...had a thought.” You try to move back into his arms but he stops you.

"What's the matter?" He tilts your chin up with a callous finger. You turn your head away and answer. "What?" He could hear you just fine. Superhuman hearing and all, but he just couldn’t comprehend what he heard.

"Do you consider me as a food?" You repeat yourself. "I know demons eat people, and like you've mentioned it before. I guess, I don't know. Shouldn't I be scared?" You've never seen a demon wilt before. Beel recoils and tucks in on himself. His hand flops down to sit on his thigh.

Of Course, he did think about it. Hell’s he had considered it. Aside from being a demon, he was the avatar of gluttony. How many nights had he laid in bed, stomach growling, and your scent filling his nose when you first arrived. Mammon had a work out the first few weeks of school dragging him away from your immediate vicinity. It was fortunate for the both of you that you had bonded so quickly or else he could have ruined everything.

His silence was enough for you to know. "Crazy how things turn out right?" You try to lighten the mood. You stroke his hair gently trying to comfort him. "Sorry, I kinda ruined date night huh?"

"No, no this is good." He chuckles rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Or I mean. We should talk about this. Before Diavolo started working on the exchange program, human souls and flesh were pretty common delicacies." Beel collects his thoughts with a sigh. “The verdict didn’t go over well at first. I wasn’t too happy either if I’m being honest. But, I’m happy he did it in the long run.” He meets your gaze with a warm smile. “You’re the kinda treat I want to enjoy for eternity.”

Asmodeus

A deviant. An absolute terror when it comes to PDA. He doesn’t care if it’s class time. If he wants to be in your lap then that's where he'll be.

He'll nuzzle the crook of your neck whenever he finds his way on to your thighs. He always has a compliment ready for you. New perfume or cologne? Is that shirt the one he bought you? He'll dote on you for hours until you are a blushing mess.

He schedules out movie nights with you. Just the two of you, some good drinks, plenty of pillows, and no bothersome brothers.

The movie he picked tonight was an oldie from the Devildom. He was feeling a little sentimental and thought you would enjoy seeing some culture. You agree, but forget one little thing.

Old Devildom culture was...pretty graphic.

Asmo doesn’t notice how your mind drifted off during the opening act. He is busy creating a new trail of hickies along your shoulder and upper arm around his pact.

He does notice when he hits the sensitive spot of your neck that normally has you squirming but-nothing. Huh? Was he losing his touch? He is usually so aware of his partner's mood. He asks what’s wrong.

Your question comes out of left field. He panics, figuring the movie wasn’t the best for this conversation. He turns it off and gives you his full attention.

Has he eaten a human or two before. Yes, back when he was young and would get swept up in the heat of the moment. Crimson was a lovely color on him.

You try to console him. Really you get it, it was an errant thought. You know he won’t eat you.

Can he still call you a snack tho?

You watch the movie in dead silence. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you figure you should probably be disturbed by what you see on screen. Were you that desensitized? Probably. Should that worry you? Maybe? You try to weigh it out in your hand. The black and white feature flashing across your eyes. You have seen worse in crappy human B rated horror movies. But, those were special effects and pints of red-colored slime and food coloring. You had a nagging suspicion that the scene in front of you was real. You glance down at the slim demon trying to fuse his body into yours. His body flickering in and out of focus in the flickering lights of the movie. You try to focus on him, his warm body nestling closer to you under the blankets. It worked for a moment before another loud roar from the screen dragged your eyes back up.

The contrast between the violence on the projector and the soft innocents of Asmodeus’s lips on the corners of yours was wild. He wasn’t even paying attention to the film. Typical. This was his normal ploy to have you all to himself. It worked though, and you loved it. Oh- You watch with wrapped attention as the human on screen was consumed both body and soul by a horde of demons.

“Is the film more magnetic than me?” Asmodeus pulls away licking his lips. His rose-colored gloss was smeared across his cheek. You shudder blinking past the sudden thought of what that soft red color also looked like.

"Nah," You huff wrapping your arms around him to press your chest to his. He purrs practically preening from your attention. "Just thinking."

"Oh~" You can feel his playful smile stretching along your hairline. "Care to share." He nips your earlobe.

"I just, humans really are just kinda food to you guys huh?”

You’ve never seen Asmodeus move so fast before in your life. One moment he is doing his best impression of an octopus and the next he is standing several feet away from you, hands raised in a mix of shock and defense. “Where would you-” He trails off hearing the sound of violence and death behind him. “Oh Hells.” He clicks off the projector in a panic. “I am so sorry honey! I did not think that through.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Would this be an inappropriate time to say I would go straight to your thighs?”

Asmodeus snorts in the dark. “Hips more like. You are nothing but sugar and fluff.” He flips the lights back on and he comes back to kneel next to you. He cups your face. “You know I would never do that right? I can’t say I haven’t done it before but I’ve never thought that about you.”

You hum kissing his warm palm. “Should I be offended or thankful?”

He hits you playfully. “That’s not funny!” You laugh taking his light swats, grateful that the mood in the room was already lightning.

“It is and you know it.” You scoop him back into your lap and snatch the remote up from where he had tossed it. “Come on let’s finish movie night. I’m picking the show this time.”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #Obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #fun prompt!

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magicforjournals · 3 years

Text

The Green Dress (A Story About Loki) Chapter two : That was unusual

Warning : A little teasing, a lot of fluff and kissing.

So that’s him. That’s Loki.

Why are you not bothered by his presence? He’s supposed to be the bad guy, no? Why are you so captivated by his eyes? All you want to do is run your fingers through his hair and feel his lips on your skin. Why are you feeling like this?!

Pepper tugs on your hand, bringing you back to reality. “Come on, let’s go get a drink,” she nudges you slightly towards the bar. You need a drink, and a stiff one at that. The feeling that came over you when you locked eyes with Loki, that had never happened to you. You don’t register that Pepper has let go of your hand, still walking in the direction of the bar, when you almost run into someone, full force. Two strong hands grip your waist, stopping you from toppling over, and you look up to meet those beautiful eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.” You say, quickly stepping away from his electrifying touch.

“It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Loki answers. His voice is deep and his accent makes your lower belly hurt for more. You want to hear him talk forever. “I’m Loki,” he says, stretching his right hand out to you.

You reach out to shake his hand, giving him your name and getting goosebumps as your skin touches his. This man surely has you under some kind of spell, right? You had heard his brother talk about his magic once before, when you had come over to see Nat after a mission.

“You’re not an avenger, are you?” He smiles down at you, a dimple showing and his voice resonating inside of you.

“Oh no, no. I’m a teacher actually, but Natasha is my best friend and I’m here often, more than my own home,” you giggle, tilting your head up to get a better look at him. He is tall. And so handsome. Why are you giving this man all this information about yourself? You need to get away from him and his irresistible eyes, you think as you lower your gaze.

He reaches down for your chin with his right hand and gently lifts your face up again to look into your eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“A teacher, that’s interesting!” He says softly. You hear Nat call your name from the bar. “Your friend is waiting, I hope to see more of you soon.” He says with a wink and walks away. See more of me soon, what the hell does that mean?! You’re shaking your head as you walk over to the bar, trying to get rid of the haze that took over while you were next to him. This isn’t natural, there’s something else going on.

“I see you’ve met Loki,” Nat says as she hands you your favorite drink. “What do you think? And why are you blushing?!” You were blushing?! You slap a hand to your face and feel the heat of your cheek. Well, that’s unusual. You take a big sip of your drink, almost finishing it.

“Nat, I think Loki might have me under a spell or something.” You whisper to her.

“What do you mean?” She asks, growing concerned.

“I don’t know. I can’t stop looking into his eyes whenever I’m next to him. We shook hands and it was almost... electric when his skin touched mine. I can’t think straight right now.”

“Either he put a spell on you or you’re into him.” Pepper giggles.

Attracted to Loki. You did want to feel his hands on you again, be near him, touch him… maybe you did want him.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Nat replies. “It’s Loki, God of mischief! I wasn’t thrilled with Thor bringing him here tonight in the first place. Please just be careful around him, I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t trust him.” She holds your hand and gives it a small squeeze. You know she’s right and she only wants what’s best for you. Loki had been the villain for so long now that it was hard for everyone to trust him. You smile at Nat and squeeze her hand back.

Sometime later, you are all sitting on the couches, just chatting. The men are arguing about who is the strongest, as usual, and other Avengers stuff you don’t really care about. You notice that your drink is empty, and you get up to go to the bar.

As you wait for the bartender to mix you another one, Bucky leans over the counter next to you and grabs a beer. “Hi,” he says as he pops the top off.

“Hey Buck, how are you?” You reply with a smile.

“I’m good, how have you been? Everything still going ok at school?” Just like Nat, Bucky was always curious about your job. You think that it possibly brings him some comfort, being friends with someone with a normal life and a normal job.

“I’ve been good, school too. My students are amazing, so smart. Potential Avengers maybe!” You say as you wink.

“We’re in trouble if they’re your students though!” Bucky chuckles, “Listen, I don’t usually beat around the bush with you, so I’ll just say it. I didn’t like seeing you with Loki earlier. I don’t like him and I don’t want him near you or even to touch you again.” He adds. Oh, he’s serious... he’s doing his staring thing.

Ok, people really don’t like Loki around here. You can understand that, however.

“Oh,” you gasp. “I understand, Buck.”

“I just want you to be safe,” he says with a sweet smile, putting a gentle hand on your arms and rubbing little circles with his thumb.

You look down at his hand, moving your eyes up to his face and you see that he’s looking at you, a strange sparkle in his eyes.

“You look nice tonight, by the way. I like the dress,” he adds. A burning hot heat floods your cheeks for the second time tonight and you dip your head whispering a thank you. He smiles at you and walks away to go sit back with Steve.

You grab your drink and head back to your spot next to Pepper. You notice that Steve is staring at you as he sips on his beer, and you wonder what the hell he wants. The party goes on, you guys keep talking and arguing, and Maria opens her presents. You’re having a good time.

As you get up to go to the washroom, you again feel Steve’s eyes on you and you quickly get annoyed. That staring bit is just getting old at this point. Why is he looking at you like that? He was the one who had made it clear he didn’t want to get involved in any sort of relationship, and he’s been eyeing you down like you’re a piece of candy he can’t wait to unwrap. It’s infuriating. Once locked away from the world, you walk to the sink, splashing cold water down your arms in an effort to calm you down. He’s probably had one too many beers, just let it go, you try to tell yourself. Once you’ve successfully calmed yourself down, you’re on your way out, when you, once again, bump into Loki.

“Hi”, he says with a crooked smile, wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you from stumbling over your own feet. You’ve never been this clumsy, but around him, it’s like you can’t find your footing.

“Hey,” You reply, squirming out of his hold. “Washroom’s free!” Stupid thing to say, you think to yourself.

“Ah, thanks,” Loki replies.

“No problem!” You say back, feeling like a complete idiot.

“Can I be honest with you?” he then adds after a brief moment of silence.

“Yes, of course!” you say, too quickly.

“I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you tonight.” He says suddenly, slowly walking towards you, making you move instinctually back against the wall. He presses one hand against the wall next to your head and looks down at you. You knew he was tall, but he is towering above you. He’s taller than Steve, you think. Having him so close to you, you can feel the warmth of his body through his black shirt. Your eyes fall to his shoulder, following the length of his arm, and you see that he’s rolled up his sleeves, his pale, toned forearms clashing with the colour of the thin material. “There is something so… so intriguing about you”, he adds, and your eyes flash up to his face, so close to yours. You can taste his breath on your lips, mint and alcohol mixed together, and you have to hold yourself back from wanting a better taste. His eyes are gazing into yours, and you fall into the deep ocean before you. He lifts his other hand and caresses your cheek softly.

“I’m not that special,” you gasp as he touches your skin.

“I think you are. As I said, I have had a very, very hard time keeping my eyes off of you,” he whispers. ‘“You look ravishing in this dress. I have to admit, I have a weakness for the colour green, and it suits you just wonderfully.” He brushes the hair off your shoulder and traces his finger along the curve of it. “I know that everyone fears me, but you don’t seem afraid. Are you?”

“No, I don’t find you scary.” You whisper against his skin.

“You don’t think of me as the villain?” He asks, genuinely surprised.

“I don’t know…” You say with a frown. “I think you were maybe misunderstood a lot and y-you don’t know how to express yourself,” you answer him honestly.

Then, without any warning, Loki crashes his lips against yours. You should be pushing him away, but his kiss is tender and passionate, his lips intoxicating and you just cave in. You moan against his lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, and Loki responds by dropping his hands to your waist and pulling you in tight against his body. You shiver as you feel the tip of his tongue against your lower lip, licking slowly, begging for access. Moaning again, you part your lips and let him in, his kisses becoming increasingly desperate as he groans in pleasure in your mouth. You can feel him getting harder against your stomach. You hadn’t realized how much you needed - no - you craved him. You’re the one to break up the kiss, gasping for air. As you close your eyes and tilt your head back against the wall, you get a glimpse of Loki’s swollen lips and you can’t help but moan softly. Eager to taste you again, Loki drops his head to your neck, kissing and biting as he makes his way up to your ear, running his hands over your body. He takes your ear lobe between his teeth, nibbling gently and whispering just how beautiful you are, how much he needs you. His words and voice reverberating in the very pit of your stomach, making you pant as a throbbing heat makes you clench around nothing.

“Loki,” you moan his name. “Not here, not now.” You gather all the strength you have to put a weak hand on his chest, not to push him away, but to let him know you’re about to lose it here in this hallway. He slowly lets go of his grip around your waist and rests his forehead against yours, taking in your scent.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, “I don’t know what came over me, but I had to kiss you. It won’t happen again, unless you ask me to.”

Those sweet words turn you into a puddle and you reach for his lips, needing to feel their softness again. This time, he kisses you gently, wrapping a careful hand around your face before breaking your embrace.

“You should go back before one of them comes looking for you,” Loki whispers against your lips. “We’ll see each other soon, I promise.” He kisses you once more and goes into the washroom.

As you stand in the hallway, your fingers against your swollen lips, you can’t stop yourself from smiling. What just happened? Did you just kiss Loki Laufeyson? No, no. Did Loki Laufeyson just kiss you?! You were alone now and craved his touch, more than you’ve craved anything else in your life.

You tried to fix your hair and dress quickly, and made your way back to Nat, who was getting anxious. As you sat with your friends, you couldn’t stop thinking about Loki’s lips, his touch, the way he held you tight, and the heat and dampness between your legs returned. You were aching for more of him. You looked around the room and found him smirking at you while in conversation with his brother. Blushing instantly, you squirmed in your seat and saw, out of the corner of your eye, Steve noticing the silent interaction, his face stoic as ever. And that, that was unusual for Captain America.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #marvel #mcu #avengers #natasha #bucky barnes #steve rogers #pepper potts #thor #tom hiddleston #reader insert #chris evans #loki (marvel)#green dress

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vetrubius · 3 years

Text

ANONYMOUS AFFECTION

CHAPTER 1: ACKNOWLEDGING EXISTENCE/

W.C:1,624

Summary: Y/N L/N is a 24 year old bartender who owns a small bar. The usual life of hers is about to change after meeting the Hero Associations Chairman, Izuku Midoriya. She’s in charge of the afterparty of the Sports Festival for the Hero Association. Watch her as she falls in love gracefully with one of the strongest hero.

Warnings: Aged up characters, SMUT, Alcohol, Cigarette, Hook ups, Slight Name-Calling, Nudity :)))

The bar at the corner of the road had a warm aura in it. Any new comer would be welcomed at the sight of young adults lost in a mist of dense smoke, and liquor. The laughter resonating through the small bar established the happening atmosphere in the space. The humongous bar on the left did the space justice. The glowing bottles of alcohol with yellow encompassing it was a view worth dying for. The row of bottles stacked up from top to the bottom shelf was balancing the small live stage on the opposite side of the wall. The large floral stained window did justice to the space. The chairs and table in the middle were filled with people as the live performance was ongoing. The warm light flooding the room and the task light above the live stage ensured that the attention would remain to the girl singing on the stage.

You watch Jirou sing on the stage with her purple satin dress whose thin straps held up the dress and the fabric draping along her curves, highlighting them beautifully and enlarging every detail possible. On the stage with her was Mina, gracing the wooden floor with a green satin cage bralette and black latex which complemented her skin tone. Her sex appeal bursting through the whole space, kept the audience thoroughly involved with her. Behind the two ladies were Kirishima and Denki on the guitar and the drums. Kirishima adorning the little bow tie he’d tied over his white shirt and his low rise ripped jeans which lowkey showed his V through his shirt (not that he minded the way the college girls threw themselves at him). As Kirishima played his guitar, your gaze was fixed on the yellow haired friend with a black highlight who was playing his drums.

You and Denki had been friends for a while which had led to the build up of sensual energy between the two of you. There had been nights where your head was settled between his crotch, engulfing his manhood in your mouth as sweet moans escaped his mouths. His hands leaving marks on your ass and whimpers leaving your mouth and him filling you up to the point you couldn’t even talk or walk properly. Tonight might be another such night where you’d be under him with a guarantee of sore legs the next day.

“Hey Y/N,” your eyes darted towards the voice “Looking pretty in the trousers and shirt. Going for a gender neutral look?” Tenya said as he made himself comfortable on the bar chair.

“Yeah, trying that but clearly isn’t working on the person I want.” You said a smile creeping up your cheeks.

Tenya and you had been college best friends and the pact of not dating each other had already been made. The beauty of you two was the fact that both of you upheld it. You’d never thought about Tenya that way and he didn’t too.

“A shot of bourbon, please” he said as he shuffled in his seat to remove his wallet.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, the first one is on the house.” You said, sliding the shot glass towards him which he downed in almost an instant.

“Tough day at work, huh?” You asked, resting your chin between the palms of your hands as your elbows rested on the black granite table.

“Yeah, too many bad guys out there you know,” he said, signalling for another one “Keep the bar and yourself safe, Y/N.”

Your eyes returned back to the yellow-head on the stage. “So, Denki huh?” Tenya said while taking the second drink.

“Yeah, he’s a good plaything.” you said smiling at Kaminari from behind the bar.

“Don’t get emotionally involved with him. He’s a great guy. But not someone you’d want to spend the rest of your life with” he said while keeping the shot glass down.

“I don’t plan to. But I do plan to keep him on the toes until you get your official hero licenses. It’ll be a good motivation for him.” you said, looking back at Iida and grinning.

“The typical Y/N card. Always baiting other people to do their best using her body.” he said looking at the table and smiling.

You looked around the bar. The college kids sitting in front of you. Some were pursuing their education but most of them had to appear for their heroes licenses exam in six months. You too had dreams of becoming a hero when you were a kid. Until you realised your quirk was useless. The one idea of developing an amazing quirk that you desperately wanted was snatched away from you. The terror in your eyes when the doctor said to your guardians “Her quirk is being immune to alcohol poisoning” It felt like the world had collapsed. What could a 6 year old like you do with a quirk like that? The children in your school kept name-calling you. Drunk hag, alcohol creep were some of the many. You were so used to it.

Now that you were 24 and owned a bar, it’s not like your life had any spice to it. Just one night stands, your everyday customers and your best friend. Of course that didn’t mean you didn’t have ambitions. You did want a family and to be reciting your vows in front of the stained glass window. But you weren’t sure if you were available emotionally for anyone yet. Also, the acceptability of your quirk in the other households was not something you anticipated.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard Tenya’s voice “Are you facing any problems in the bar?” he asked after downing his third drink.

“Yeah, the liquor prices are becoming slightly expensive, the electricity units are skyrocketing and I need more furniture,” you sighed. “I want more customers but where will I accommodate them?” your eyes returning to the stage but this time at Jirou.

“Actually our firm was planning a after UA festival afterparty, only for adults.” he said tapping his fingers on the cold platform. “Could we use your bar? There won’t be a lot of people. Only official members and the boss. Do you think you could handle that?” he glanced towards you.

A party? You pause to think a little.

Your brainstorming lasted roughly about 45 seconds.

“Yes, but I’ll need advance payment.” you say, looking at Tenya with fire in your eyes.

“I’ll ask for permission from my higher ups and let you know.” he said, picking up his bag “Meanwhile, you deal with him.” he said, tilting his head behind you.

You flip to be face in face with Denki.

“Hey sexy, ready to go?”

The door unlocked only for Denki to push you against the wall with his lips attacking yours. With one hand he grabbed your face while the other worked on locking the door.

“Aren’t we feisty today” you said as he made his way on your neck, as you tried to unbutton him with one hand and the other grabbing his hair. Denki was quick to pick you up in bridal style and make his way to the dining table. Before he kept you down, he unbuckled your trousers, removed and dropped them on the side.

Placing you softly on the table without breaking the kiss, he starts to slowly drag his fingers along the slit on your wet panties. “Oh Kaminari~” your back arching and your hands on his back, scratching every edge you can get.

Denki enjoying every little bit your body reacts. The small whimpers, the bite on his shoulder blades, most of all the way your mouth steams on his. It makes him almost lose whatever little composure he has out of the window.

“Ah gorgeous.” he said while breaking the kiss and taking a step back to admiring your body.

The little protective crystal dangling on your boobs. The black bralette, the white shirt covering your arms and your sides and your panties soaking wet for him. You looked sinful

“Beg.”

“Can you please eat me?” you ask, grabbing your one boob in your hand and the other one in your mouth.

“Try harder.”

“Sir, could you please eat me out?” you say between the moans, with one hand circling your clit, the other hand on your boob.

He picks you up again and takes you to the bedroom and dumps your body on the mattress.

“Come sit here, I wanna try something.” he said, clambering behind you. You don’t waste time trying to fit the pocket of his arms.

The second you make your way, his lips made his way on your ears as the walls witnessed your undoing.

With one hand, he played with your tits a little more and the other made his way inside your panties. This unholy sensation made your soul leave your body. His thumb rubbing your clit and his index and middle in your pussy. The squelches and your moans were absorbed by the walls. He knew you were at your limit.

Kaminari stopped abruptly, breaking a protest whine from you. “More, please” You said through your broken voice.

Meanwhile in Hero Association:

“Hey Tenya, how have you been?”

“I’ve been great. Hey, I got a venue for the afterparty. It’s a bar of one of my best friends. It’s down by the old man's shop.”

“I see. Y/N L/N, was it?”

“Yeah, her.”

“I’m interested. Could you book the place for 25th November?”

“Alright. I’ll email her. And Izuku?”

“Mhm?”

“You’ll find her interesting.”

“I hope so. It’s been a while” the putting out of a cigarette and footsteps towards the window was audible as the green haired hero overlooked the city.

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emospritelet · 3 years

Text

Twisted Fate - chapter 26

Last time, Gold started to suspect that Neal might be his long-lost son. Here's what happened next

[AO3]

Belle left hospital the next day, Gideon strapped to her chest in a sling while Gold wheeled the suitcase beside her. The day was pleasantly warm, sun on her face as she walked to the car, and it felt good to be out in the fresh air and away from the hospital, with its hurrying staff and constant noise. She was still in pain, and far more tired than she had expected to be, but she stopped off in the lobby of the apartment building to let Marco coo over Gideon and comment on how much he looked like his father. Gold had a tiny smile on his face all the way up in the elevator.

It was a relief to sleep in what she now thought of as their bed, Gold spooned around her and his scent in her nose. Gideon woke them in the night, but Gold kissed her shoulder and whispered that she should rest. She still lay awake listening anxiously until he got back into bed and assured her that Gideon was fed, changed and sleeping again. There was an urge to go and check on him herself, but she told herself firmly to trust Gold to take care of his son, and her body was tired and sore enough that she soon drifted off.

Gold woke early, just as dawn was greying the sky, and tiptoed from the room to make a pot of coffee and check in on Gideon. Quiet as he was, Belle was stirring when he put his head around the bedroom door, and so he handed Gideon to her to feed before returning to the kitchen to pour out the coffee and make a hearty breakfast.

The first few days were hectic as they tried to adjust to their new life, establishing as much of a routine for Gideon as they could. Gold was enjoying being a father again, and fully intended to do the best job he could. Belle was clearly exhausted, and so he tried to ease the burden as much as possible, letting her nap with Gideon while he cleaned up, made dinner and baked. In between his chores, he dealt with work matters, giving instructions to Mr Dove in relation to rent or enforcement matters, assessing collateral for loans over video calls and countersigning a new tenancy agreement. He got up to feed and change Gideon in the middle of the night, hoping that Belle would get some much-needed rest. A small voice at the back of his mind told him that he, too, needed to rest, but sleep was elusive and his mind far too preoccupied to notice his building exhaustion.

He had been a ball of nervous energy ever since he and Belle had had the conversation about Neal. Getting his family settled into their home held his attention for the daylight hours, but once he was lying in bed, his mind was let loose to agonise over every possible worst case scenario it could dream up. The day after their return he was alert to every noise outside the apartment, every suggestion that a knock might sound and the Cassidys be outside. The knock never came, and over dinner the following evening, Belle mentioned that she had received a text from Emma. Henry had developed a bad cold, and Neal and Emma thought it best that they not visit and run the risk of passing it on to Gideon.

“I’m sorry he’s not well,” said Gold, an odd mixture of despair and relief rippling through him and pricking at his skin. “I’m sure they’ll come over soon. I’ll make a carrot cake this weekend. Maybe some chocolate cupcakes. Just in case they show up.”

Belle gave him a level look, as though she wasn’t fooled by his easy tone. She probably wasn’t.

“This must be hard for you,” she said quietly, and Gold put down his fork, abandoning his pretence at equilibrium.

“I still don’t know what the hell I’m gonna say to him,” he admitted. “How do I even raise the subject? Cupcake, Neal? Oh, by the way, did your mother ever mention that your father was Scottish? Kind of short? Me?”

He grimaced, running his hands over his face, and stilled at the warm pressure of Belle’s hand on his arm. He spread his fingers to gaze out through them into calm blue eyes.

“There isn’t going to be an easy way to do this,” she said gently. “But you could always try talking about your past, see if anything resonates with him.”

The fingers snapped shut, hiding her from his sight, and Gold sighed heavily before dropping his hands back to the table and sitting back.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That seems - more natural, I suppose.”

“You could always ask Archie for advice,” she suggested, and he nodded.

“That’s true. Although we don’t know whether there’s anything there to ask advice about yet.”

“I suppose.”

“If there is…” Gold sat forwards again, threading his fingers together nervously. “If there is, if Neal really is my son, I have a feeling Dr Hopper will be seeing a lot more of my money.”

Belle smiled, squeezing his arm again.

“A worthy investment, wouldn’t you say?”

“If it gets me a good relationship with my family, absolutely.” He gave her a tiny smile, and she beamed, her eyes gleaming.

“It’s already doing that,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you. Facing your pain, your past, your fears… it’s a brave thing to do.”

He smiled, her words making his heart swell with love, even as he endured the discomfort of unexpected praise.

“Well, I have many years of cowardice to make up for,” he said, with an awkward smile.

Belle gave him a somewhat sad smile in return before sitting back, and there was a moment of silence. He picked up his fork again, cutting into the slice of almond cake and spearing it with the tines.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did your father say when he’d be visiting?”

Belle nodded as she cut a piece of her own cake.

“He said next Monday,” she said. “It’s usually a slow day in the shop, so he’s gonna close up at noon after he’s dealt with the flower delivery, and drive down. We’re planning to meet at four-thirty.”

“Ah.” Gold popped the piece of cake into his mouth, enjoying the soft sweetness of ground almonds and the tang of orange zest. “Well, he’s welcome to stay, of course.”

Belle eyed him over her fork, but shook her head.

“He’s only coming down for the day, and to be honest I think that’s a good idea,” she said. “I said I’d meet him at the diner by the park, and I think it’s best if it’s just me and Gideon. I thought we could go for a walk and get something to eat. That’s probably enough contact for both of us at this stage.”

“As you wish,” he said, secretly relieved at not having to play nice with Moe French.

“Depending on how this first visit goes, he might be staying over in future, though,” she added.

“Of course.”

“And you never know,” she said, spearing another piece of cake. “Maybe one day we’ll move back to Storybrooke. You, me, Gid, and - well, we’ll see how things go.”

She gave him a secretive little smile, and for a moment he envisioned entering the pink house with several small children racing past him to fill the place with life and love and laughter. He smiled back.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Belle was enjoying motherhood, but she wondered how single mothers coped alone. Gold had been amazing, racing around the house keeping it clean and tidy, cooking delicious meals for the two of them and helping to feed and change Gideon. He insisted on being the one to get up during the night, even as she said they should take it in turns, but she had to admit that it was a relief to get some rest as her body recovered. He made cakes and cookies and brought her breakfast in bed while she fed Gideon, and made sure she wanted for nothing.

She was worried that he was doing too much; she caught him napping on the couch one afternoon with a pile of laundry in his lap, hands buried in Gideon’s sleep suits and head back against the cushions. She had let him sleep, tiptoeing through to the kitchen to make some tea, and made the dinner herself that evening.

As the time drew nearer for her father’s visit, she found herself getting nervous, and Gideon seemed to pick up on it, growing fractious as she dressed him for the trip outside.

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” asked Gold, helping her get him into the stroller, and Belle shook her head.

“It’s fine, really,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be okay once we’re out and he’s got something new to look at.”

“In that case,” he said. “I’ll make something nice for when you get back.”

“You always do.”

“Well, something special, then,” he said. “What would you like?”

Belle pursed her lips.

“A full night’s sleep and a foot rub?”

He grinned.

“Consider it done.”

“I’ll be eating about five-thirty,” she added. “So I won’t want anything for dinner, but I’ll probably feel like curling up with a glass of wine and something stodgy.”

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

He finished tucking Gideon in, and kissed his cheek before straightening up to kiss Belle. She clung to him a little longer than usual, and he squeezed her tight.

“It’ll be okay,” he said softly. “And I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”

She nodded, taking a deep, fortifying breath, and set her hands to the stroller, pushing it towards the elevator. Glancing back over her shoulder, she could see Gold watching her from the doorway, and she gave him a reassuring smile as she pressed the elevator call button, hoping for a positive outcome.

The apartment was eerily silent without either Belle or Gideon, and Gold didn’t like it. He busied himself cleaning up, folding a freshly-washed pile of laundry and vacuuming the floors. He also made up a pan of chicken casserole, adding a generous glass of red wine, and set it to a low simmer while he pondered what else to cook. He made some bread, pummelling the dough briskly before setting it aside to rise, and wiped flour-covered hands on his apron before poking through the store cupboard again. Belle had mentioned wanting something stodgy to eat, so he decided to make a pan of brownies.

By the time he had finished mixing the batter and put the tin in the oven, it was a quarter to six. He poured himself a glass of the wine and took a large gulp, one toe tapping on the floor as he wondered how Belle’s dinner with her father was going. He hadn’t received a distressed phone call, so he had to assume she was fine. She was more than capable of standing up to her father, but he hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. Surely not even Moe French could maintain his bad attitude when he got to hold Gideon.

A knock at the apartment door made him start, and he set down his glass, wiping his hands on his apron and grasping his cane to head for the door. Looking out through the spy hole, he paused as Neal’s face glanced up, his figure distorted by the curve of the lens. Gold’s heart started thumping high in his throat, blood pounding, and he swallowed, his throat dry, the handle gripped tight. His hand shook as he opened the door, and he licked his lips nervously as Neal grinned at him, hefting what looked like a leather laptop bag up a little further on his shoulder.

“Hello, Neal,” said Gold, unsure where his calm tone had come from, but relieved that he sounded normal.

“Hey,” said Neal, patting the bag. “Belle asked Emma to pick her up a couple of books from the university library. I said I’d drop ‘em off on my way home, since I was in the area.”

Gold made a decision.

“Please, come on in,” he said, stepping back and holding open the door. “Belle’s out at the moment, but you’re welcome to wait. I could make some coffee. Or I’ve opened the wine, if you’d prefer a glass of that.”

Neal’s eyes brightened.

“Really? Wouldn’t say no, it’s been a hell of a day.”

He stepped into the apartment, and Gold closed the door behind him, following him into the kitchen and trying to calm his racing heart. Neal shrugged off the strap of his bag, putting it on the table with a heavy thump of books and wriggling his shoulder.

“Belle should try e-books,” he said. “Less chance of a dislocated shoulder.”

Gold chuckled at that.

“I offered to get her one, but she prefers the feel and smell of real books,” he said, getting a second glass from the cupboard and pouring a measure of wine. “Not that she’s had all that much time to read lately.”

“No, I guess not. Thanks.” Neal took the wine. “You say she’ll be back soon?”

“She took Gideon to go and meet her father, but I’m expecting her back in the next half hour or so.”

“You didn’t go too?” asked Neal, and Gold pulled a face.

“Let’s just say that the peace between the two of them is new and fragile, and my presence really wouldn’t help that.”

“Yeah, I pretty much heard her dad’s a tool,” said Neal, making Gold grin.

“My opinion of him is fairly low, but I have to say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Guess you can’t choose your family,” said Neal, and took a drink. “Wow! That’s nice!”

“A favourite of mine.” Gold hesitated, turning the glass between his fingers. “How’s Henry?”

“Yeah, he’s a lot better,” said Neal. “Totally snot-free, happy to say. We thought we might come over Friday, if you’re up for having visitors.”

“I’m sure we’d love that.”

Another pause. Gold took a mouthful of wine, feeling his pulse thud in his throat, his skin tingling. He almost choked as he swallowed, and blinked rapidly, his eyes watering.

“You okay?” asked Neal. “Went down the wrong way?”

“Yes. Uh - shall we go through to the lounge?”

Gold gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen door, and Neal wandered off, leaving him to follow on feet that felt as though they were made of steel plates. It was a relief to sit down, and he had to stop himself from tapping his feet restlessly as he turned the glass between his hands and tried to think of something to say. Neal was good enough to break the heavy silence.

“How’s life with Gideon?” he asked, and Gold smiled.

“He doesn’t give us a lot of time to sit and take a breath, that’s for certain,” he said, “But it’s wonderful. I’m incredibly lucky.”

“You’re enjoying being a dad again, huh?”

“Very much.”

“Is it like you remember?” asked Neal, and Gold hesitated. Here, at last, was an opening. An opportunity.

“With my first son,” he said. “I wasn’t there for the first eighteen months of his life. A little like you and Henry.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” Gold looked down at his wine, deep red rippling catching tiny specks of light. “It wasn’t by choice, I might add.”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you weren’t in jail,” said Neal, and he smiled.

“No, not jail. Unless of course you count the one of my own making.”

“Deep.”

“Pompous. Sorry.”

Neal chuckled, and Gold took a drink of wine.

“His mother and I weren’t suited,” he said then. “We were never in a proper relationship, and I wasn’t surprised when she left town. But then she came back two years later, with a child. My child, so she said.”

“You think she was lying?”

“No,” he said immediately. “No, I knew he was mine. At least - at least I thought that I knew. I could - I could feel it.”

He tapped his closed fist against his heart, and Neal watched him silently. Gold gave a tiny shrug.

“Of course I wanted to give him everything I hadn’t - that is - I wanted to do the best for my son as I could,” he said, floundering a little. “I worked hard, earned a good wage - unfortunately, that meant spending more time at work, and less time at home. Milah didn’t appreciate being, in her words: ‘stuck indoors all day with a screaming brat’.”

Neal had gone very still.

“Did you say Milah?” he asked neutrally.

“My ex,” said Gold, wishing his heart would stop thumping so hard. “Anyway, I came home one day, and she’d gone. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at that, but I never thought she’d take him. I never thought…” He cut off, ducking his head. “I never thought I’d lose him.”

Neal took a swallow of wine, and Gold squeezed his glass in an attempt to still his trembling hands.

“What happened?” asked Neal.

“Well, I found out that without being named as his father, I had no right to find out what had happened to him,” he said wearily. “So I had to search alone. She moved around a lot: from Scotland to England, and eventually, to the US. The last place I could trace them to was Social Services in Phoenix. She’d left him there. Said she’d come back and never did.”

Neal shook his head, looking stunned.

“So - so what happened?” he asked. “Did you find him?”

“No.” Gold eyed him steadily. “No, he’d gone. Run away. I was three months too late. I kept searching, but there were no more leads. He knew how to hide, it seemed.”

Neal swallowed hard, and set down his glass.

“You said you weren’t named as the father,” he said. “So his name wasn’t Gold, right?”

“No,” said Gold. “His last name was Bonny, after his mother.”

Neal pushed to his feet in a rush, agitation making his nostrils flare.

“Who told you my mother was called that?” he demanded. “Was it Emma? What did she say? How did you know that?”

“What?” Gold shook his head, an invisible hand squeezing at his heart and leaving him breathless. “I don’t - Emma didn’t tell me anything, I just - well, I remember Milah’s name, of course I do. And - and your name is Cassidy.”

“Because I changed it!” Neal began to pace, running a hand through his hair and looking shattered. “I don’t - I can’t…”

He shook his head, stomping towards the door.

“No, please!” said Gold desperately, pushing to his feet. “Please, don’t go, I just - I need you to listen for a moment.”

“I can’t!”

“Please!” he urged. “Please, my son’s name is Bailey. Bailey Stephen Bonny. He was born on the first of May, twenty-nine years ago, and - and I’ve been searching for him ever since he disappeared, ever since his mother took him from me.”

“This is - this isn’t possible.” Neal shook his head, looking devastated. “This can’t be real. I have to - I have to go, I have to think.”

“No, wait!”

His hand was on the door handle, and Gold had reached out, wanting to touch him, desperate to touch him. He drew back at the last minute, pain clawing at his chest, as though his heart was trying to tear its way out. Neal’s knuckles were white on the handle, his body shaking with tension, and Gold blinked tears from his eyes.

“Is it you, Bae?” he whispered, his voice breaking a little. “Is it really you?”

The name on his tongue seemed to break whatever spell had fallen over them, and Neal wrenched at the door, barging out into the corridor and slamming it shut behind him. Gold sagged, shoulders slumping as he gripped the cane handle to hold himself upright. It’s him. It’s my son. My Bae.

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic

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ezekielbhandarivalleros · 3 years

Note

From this prompt list Jake x Jackie ... Angst #1 or #8 or both, if you feel up to it my friend.

Last Fight

Paring: Jake Tweneboah x Jackie Varma

Summary: Random fight scene I came up with these two in mind for these two, Don't worry this isn't part of the original series

Rated - M

Taglist: @princess-geek @schnitzelbutterfingers @daddyethanramsey @yourresidentplayer @robbies-sutcliffe @aussieez @choicesficwriterscreations

Jackie called out to the dark haired man who was walking away. His footsteps were quiet against the ground, but each and every one resonated terrible fear and desperation within the girl's soul. This couldn't be happening! She needed him! He couldn't do this!

He didn't stop. He just kept walking. Every footstep against the ground was like a dagger in her heart. She knew that Jake only thought of her as an annoyance, someone who was always in his way, holding him back, weighing him down, but did she mean so little to him that he would walk away without even listening to what she had to say? Did he not respect her to give her even that?

But in her own heart, she felt a terrible twinge of fear. She knew deep in her soul, the part of her she hated existed, because it was a voice of truth, that Jake did believe the others would help him, would help him in his never ending quest for power and revenge. At one time, that fear would have held her back and bound her in silence and silent anguish. Now she ran forward, determined to not let Jake get away.

"Jake!" she called again, catching up to him and grabbing his shoulder, spinning him around.

Jake reacted immediately. He grabbed her wrist, spun her, and flung her away just as easily as if she was a rag. She landed on her feet and skidded and walked back to him, frightened by his strength and how easily he used it against her but it didn't deter her. Fear would no longer hold her back. Not when it came to Jake.

"What do you want, Jake, I have to go." He said, his voice cold and controlled like it always was.

Pain welled up inside her heart, like a fountain gushing water."Jake, you don't have to go." She said, her voice soft and pleading. "You don't have to do this, why did you lie to me."

"Yes I do. You will never understand Jackie. Just go. Go back to Boston and leave me to this." He turned to walk away.

"No!" she yelled. She snatched him again and this time didn't let him throw her off. She held onto him and grabbed a fistful of his black hair, hair she'd dreamed of touching for years. "Listen to me, it's not worth it! If you go to him, you will be throwing your entire life away! Please, believe me!"

He pushed her off again, breaking their contact. She could see his black eyes hardening up, but his tone was still the same as it always was. Cold and reserved.

"It's worth it to me." He said, no emotion passing across his face. Jake’s body shook, hearing the utter clarity in the man's voice.

"Jake, please. Don't do this." She begged. She was so close to tears, but she was determined not to cry. Crying was weak to Jake. If he didn't hate her now, he would after she started crying, she was sure of it.

"Why not, Jackie? This is what I want." He said calmly, tucking his hands lightly into his pockets, staring at her with his black eyes, so cool and calm, like nothing was happening. Like her world wasn't crashing down around her.

"I love you, Jake." She whispered, staring straight into his eyes, her hands clenching into fists at her sides as a breeze ruffled her pink hair. "I love you and I'm willing to do whatever I have to do."

"To do what?" Jake asked lazily, his tone projecting boredom. Every word chipped a part of her heart away and crushed it, but she didn't care. She loved him. She wasn't going to lose him.

"To stay with you." She whispered. She knew she was signing away the only chance of respect he might ever give her. She realized it. But it didn't matter. She wasn't going to lose him, not if she had anything to say about it.

He did the worst possible thing he could do. He did the thing that made her heart go from being chipped away at to being shattered in the space of about five second.

He laughed.

He laughed, his cold hard chuckle bubbling past his lips, taking dagger like claws to her heart and shredding it into hundreds of pieces. Beneath her skin, her body was screaming in emotional agony. She hated that he could do this to her. but even more, she hated that she still loved him.

"You used to not even like me, Jackie." He said coldly, his laughter fading. "You don't know me, and you won't ever know me. Y, won't ever know me, because you all like to create the same lie about me to yourself, just so you can like me. Well, you can spare yourself the trouble. I don't need to be liked by any of you. I really couldn't care less." He hissed the word. "I have an ambition, and that's the only thing that matters."

"Then I'll help you!" Jackie pleaded as he started to turn to walk away. "I'll help you! I'll do whatever you want, whatever you ask. I'll help you kill the man you're after. I'll go with you, come live with you." She said, trying to keep the stuttering out of her voice, amazed at herself that she could say something so revolting so easily when it came to Jake

He snorted. "I don't believe you."

He turned and started to walk away. She stood there, stunned for a moment before she lunged after him. Jackie grabbed a fist full of his shirt before he whirled and struck her hard in the head. She dropped to the ground like her bones had evaporated.

"Sorry, Jackie." He said, looking down at her. There was nothing in his tone to say that he meant it, but in his eyes, there was the tiniest flash of something other than his cold, unfeeling gaze. There was something lurking beneath the dark light that usually glinted there.

It gave her hope. It gave her the smallest sense of hope. And for now, that would have to be enough.

This was it. It had come to this. She was going to have to kill him. She was going to have to kill Jake. The man she'd loved, the only one she'd ever loved, who she still loved, even after all this time. She was going to have to kill him, because if she didn't, he was going to destroy everything she'd fought for her in her entire life. And as much as she loved him, his life was not worth the lives of the people who she was fighting for now. And no matter what, that was the brutal truth, and she wasn't going to let him destroy anything else important to her.

"You think you can kill me?" Jake scoffed at her. "You really think you can?"

"I know I can!" she snapped back. Jackie’s hand gripped her knife deftly, poised to lunge and strike.

"Liar." He hissed. And then they clashed.

It was a whirling blur of colors, lines, skin, hair, and burning flashing eyes as they fought with each other, trying to land a blow. Jackie's body worked in double overtime, trying to keep up with Jake speed and strength, not to mention his large coat which was going to make it next to impossible to land any hits onl him.

"Is that the best you can do, Jackie?" he taunted her as they finally split and broke apart, standing several feet away, gasping for air after their furious clash.

Jackie straightened her body and glared at him, readjusting her grip on the knife. "Is that the best you can do, Jackie? You can kill your best friend, but you can't kill me?"

She knew the jab would make him fly into a rage. She was counting on that anger to make him blind, and in that blindness, she'd have one change. She made tiny, but necessary adjustments to her stance in the heartbeat of time it took for Jake to throw himself at her, hatred burning in his now red eyes.

They crashed to the floor, rolling repeatedly. Jackie seized her moment. She flung herself on top of Jake and rendered him immobile, pinning his body down with her weight, using her knees to crush his shoulders, making him howl with pain. The sound grated against her ears as she now laid her knife against his pale, sweat slicked throat.

He looked up at her, hatred, pain and something else shining in his unnervingly red eyes, even as he squirmed beneath her. "You can't do it!" he laughed at her. His whole body seemed to shake with the force of his laughter, and every peal made her body burn.

She hated him, and she loved him, and what she hated more was that she wanted to be like him. She wanted to not care. She wanted to not feel anything so she could be with him. So she could protect everybody else she cared about. He knew she couldn't do it, and he was mocking her because of it. How could he be so cruel?

Because someone had been this cruel to him.

That realization hit her so hard in that moment, it threatened to break her. "No." She said, looking down at him, her eyes moist with tears.

"You can still change." Jackie whispered, staring straight into his red eyes. "You can still change."

"You don't get it!" he spat at her, anger coloring his tone, all trace of laughter gone. "None of you have ever understood! And that's why I hate you all! If you would just understand and accept the fact that I can’t change!"

He thrust her away, his amazing strength almost able to throw her clear across the room. She crashed to the floor and he was on her in a split second. He kicked her knife away and snatched her up by the throat.

"Understand this. I hate you all because none of you understand that this is what I am. This is me. Everything you see is me! And you are as sick as I am if you truly care about me."

Her heart was broken inside her chest, and she began to no longer see a reason to exist. Oh how she wished she didn't care! Why did she have to care? Why couldn't she be like him? He cared about nothing, and she knew he never cried for any of his old Team. But she cried for him, so many times that she was sure her tears could have filled a small ocean. If she didn't care, she could kill or leave him and he would never be able to hurt anybody else ever again.

But she did care. Even now, as he was killing her, she did care. She still cared about him and she knew, even if she had another chance, she wouldn't be able to kill him.

She was vaguely aware of her body smashing into the ground as he flung her away. She lay there in a crumpled heap and finally let her tears spill down her face. She wept in her despair, knowing that she'd never reach the apathy she'd need in order to get though to Jake. That beautiful apathy that made everything as crystal clear as the tears that washed the blood from her lips.

(Thanks for the ask @secretaryunpaid)

#secretaryunpaid #choices #playchoices #open heart #jake tweneboah

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funkyhanji · 3 years

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Nuvole Bianche [English | BNHA]

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia (@Horikoshi Kohei) Character(s): Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku Pairing(s): BakuDeku Rating: E Word count: 3298 CWs: Fantasy AU, Established Relationship, Snowed In, Fluff and Smut, Sex, Quirks as Magic, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Barebacking, Dorks in Love, Bottom Izuku

Summary: - «Can't help it, Deku,» Katsuki says. There's the hint of a teasing tone in his voice, as if to prove the statement. «You're stupidly cute.» His spouse-to-be blushes yet his lips give way to the small grin he'd been fighting back. «… And you're stupidly handsome, Kacchan,» he whispers like it's a secret he's kept hidden all this time. -

Katsuki wills a shiver down as he steps past the cave's open entrance, tracking snow at his heels. The magic barrier they put up is thankfully holding steady to keep the cold outside; it's a flimsy solace though. His boots, socks and heavy breeches are completely soaked through; his double wool-lined, crimson cloak drags at his shoulders with the added weight of melting water. His hair sags, the blond spikes limp and frosted over.

He fucking hates winter.

He throws a glare at the inky darkness that's crept upon the mountainside in the last hour; it's barely sunset, technically, but it might as well be the dead of night already with how pitch black the world outside is. If only the weather hadn't gotten so bad so quickly, they would've been home by now. In front of a nice hearth — but alas, after so many months away from Musutafu, it seems Katsuki had forgotten how swiftly a cold but pleasant winter day could turn into a nightmarish snowstorm.

Why did we even decide to come up here?! Katsuki gripes internally, fumbling to take off his frozen leather gloves with numb hands. Right. To get away from annoying people.

He shouldn't have sent Zero up ahead to the castle in favor of hiking back down the mountain by foot. He sighs, curses as his grip on the gloves slips. Then again, the cave isn't big enough for a full grown dragon and two people, so maybe it's better this way.

A faint giggle reaches his ears, compelling Katsuki to look up and pause his struggle.

Green eyes, bright with flames gently dancing in their depths, meet his from across the stone floor. Izuku's covering his mouth with his fist, but Katsuki knows he's smiling by the way his cheeks are raised. The smattering of freckles decorating Izuku's face appear and disappear with the flickering of the fire, almost as if they're playing hide and seek — they'd never win: Katsuki has memorized each and every one —.

«How's it looking out there, Kacchan?» Izuku asks, lowering his hand so Katsuki can see the curve of his lips. He waves Katsuki over; a silent offer to help him remove his uncomfortable gear. «The wind is really strong. I can hear it through the barrier...»

Katsuki scoffs. «No shit,» he says, nearing the fire. «A gust of that motherfucking wind almost threw me off the cliff-side.» Izuku gasps, immediately launching into a worried rant; wide-eyed stare flying over Katsuki's form for any possible injury. «'M fine, Deku. Takes more than this to do me in.»

«Oh, I know, Kacchan,» Izuku laughs, at ease when Katsuki smirks his way.

Katsuki takes a seat next to Izuku, their shoulders and knees brushing as they stare into the flames in silence for a heartbeat. Then Izuku shifts, reaching out to take a hold of his hands and carefully pulling on the iced-over gloves. Katsuki turns to face him, letting the other slip the leather off one finger at a time, ever-so mindful of not using too much strength, as though Katsuki would care if he ripped the gloves.

«Whatever,» he mutters under his breath. He doesn't miss the grin on Izuku's face at that. «And the snow blocked the pass, so we're stuck in here 'till tomorrow anyway.»

«That's too bad.» Izuku looks up at him after removing the gloves and placing them near the fire to defrost. «Everyone was so excited about the pre-wedding feast! We're going to miss it...»

«That was the whole point of hiking the mountain, Deku.»

«Oh, come on, Kacchan! They're here for us, you know…!»

Katsuki rolls his eyes, idly rubbing his stiff hands together to rid them of the chill. «Doesn't mean I have to suffer through it-» he flexes his fingers, cringing when his knuckles pop with a loud crack- «not tonight at least. Tomorrow I'll have no goddamn choice.»

Wordlessly, Izuku grasps his left hand in his. He caresses his thumbs along the cold skin, slow and meticulous. He kneads the pads of his fingers into Katsuki's palm, then moves to Katsuki's own digits, massaging them from knuckle to nail; he does it once, twice, three times, over and over, until the numbness is replaced by pins and needles. Until feeling returns and Katsuki's hand is warm again. Izuku repeats the same process with his right hand.

«How's that? Better?» Izuku asks with a smile which looks even softer than usual. It makes Katsuki's heart speed up.

With the regained sensitivity, Katsuki switches now to grasp the wrist of his consort-to-be, tugging him forward. The surprised sound Izuku makes is cut off as their mouths meet in a kiss; the touch is firm but chaste, purely motivated by a simple need, a subconscious call resonating deep within Katsuki's bones telling him to be closer to Izuku. He feels a hand glide up his other arm, up, up to his neck and his jaw before it buries itself into his hair.

Or tries to.

Green eyes blink open, and in the next second Izuku's pulling back with a crease between his brows. His hand flexes a little, where it rests near Katsuki's ear, and a faint crunching can be heard coming from the hair.

«Storm froze it,» Katsuki supplies with a shrug.

«Oh...»

Izuku takes a better look at him then.

Katsuki can see that attentive gaze picking up on the slight tremble in his frame; the hunch to his shoulders and the way he's leaning toward the fire more than he would usually do — with Katsuki's temperature always running higher than most people's due to his fire-related magic, he's not one to crowd in front of direct heat sources —. He can see the furrow deepen when shining emeralds take notice of the layer of frost whitening and weighing down his clothes.

«Oh, Kacchan, sorry!» Izuku says, now concerned. Katsuki's about to retort that he's fine, but the other keeps going. «You walked around in the snow longer than me, you must be freezing! And here I was, warming up in front of the fire…! I should've went with you after all... we need to, ah, get you out of these icy clothes! Yeah!»

Izuku is fussing over Katsuki as soon as he stops talking.

He makes quick work of taking off the soaked boots and socks, placing them behind him in front of the fire pit. He hovers in Katsuki's personal space, un-clasping his cloak and sliding it off, casting a spell to have it float near the flames to dry — it's a simple incantation he'd been taught by his friend, Ochako, a gravity-specialized mage —. Izuku's scarred hands move from Katsuki's shoulders to his arms, struggling to tug the stiff leather braces down. He almost falls back on his ass when the first one dislodges from his elbow; the squeak he makes too endearing for Katsuki to repress a chuckle.

«Mean,» Izuku mutters, retaking his previous position just within the circle of Katsuki's legs.

There's a wee frown wrinkling his dark green eyebrows.

Katsuki lets Izuku take off his heavy woolen shirt, complying to the silent request to lift his arms. He waits for the other to lay it down on the stone next to the boots; he waits for Izuku to face him again. He's stubbornly trying to keep up his upset demeanor, but it's obvious he's failing from the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

«Can't help it, Deku,» Katsuki says. There's the hint of a teasing tone in his voice, as if to prove the statement. «You're stupidly cute.»

His spouse-to-be blushes yet his lips give way to the small grin he'd been fighting back. «… And you're stupidly handsome, Kacchan,» he whispers like it's a secret he's kept hidden all this time.

Katsuki finds warmth creeping onto his ears and high cheekbones. He's by no means unused to such compliments — he's been showered in praise since a young age, whether he worked hard to deserve it or not —, though he's discovered, with the passing of the years, that receiving them from Izuku never stopped his stomach from somersaulting.

He wonders if the Paladin-in-training is aware of the effect he has on him.

Izuku's palm comes to rest on his chest, above his heart, and Katsuki thinks, maybe he does know.

There's a certain reverence in the way Izuku brushes his hand over his skin, in the way he leans forward to place a kiss in that same spot. Soft, gentle. Katsuki pretends for a moment that the shiver running up his spine is the cold seeped into his limbs from his soaked clothes.

He blinks, and it feels like he's five again.

The first time he lay eyes on Izuku, his whole world had tilted on its axis the second those forest-green irises met his, full of wonder and awe. Katsuki remembers the wide-eyed stare and the cautious steps the shorter boy had taken, getting closer to him with a trembling hand extended toward his newly-pierced ears.

«Do they hurt…?» Izuku had asked, not quite touching him but hovering near one of the ruby studs.

Katsuki had been taken aback by the ethereal beauty of the creature before him; had been rendered speechless, forgetting every lecture on etiquette his parents had been trying to drill into his skull.

He'd shaken his head, grumbling. «Of course not, stupid! I'm the future King, this 's nothin'!»

Izuku had «oooh»ed and smiled, bright and full of admiration. «You're really amazing!» he'd said, cheeks flushed. «I'm Izuku! My mom and I will be living here from now on, I hope we'll be friends!»

Katsuki blinks again, coming back to the present to Izuku moving to press a peck a little higher—his green curls tickling Katsuki's chin—and higher still, one over his jaw, one below his ear.

«Kacchan,» he whispers, no more than a breath exhaled by unconscious reflex. «Kacchan.»

He doesn't have to repeat it a third time.

Katsuki's cups Izuku's face in his hands, brushes their noses together, their lips. The contact is lighter than before yet the sparks it creates are stronger, the intent behind it clear. He bridges the non-existent gap a second time, their mouths parting at the same time; tongues sliding together, slow and passionate, the kiss gaining a more intense quality.

The heat between them gradually growing with it.

Katsuki's free arm wraps around Izuku's waist, bringing him flush to his body. His palm skims the warm skin under his consort-to-be's shirt, settling at the hip and starting up a leisurely rocking. Izuku gasps into his mouth, a short moan breathed in and licked up by Katsuki's tongue. Green eyes crack open a slit to stare into crimson ones, the embers of desire coming to life inside both of them.

«Deku,» Katsuki grunts, husky and hungry.

Izuku racks his blunt nails over his nipples, breaking the kiss to bow his head and run his tongue over them, one at a time; he nips and suckles at them, teases the hardened nubs with his teeth. Izuku spurs himself on with his own whines. His hands squeeze and grope Katsuki's biceps, his shoulders, his nape; they successfully bury in blond hair. Izuku's neck bares for Katsuki — a clear invite to claim —, his jugular jumping with the wild rhythm of his heartbeat under Katsuki's kiss-swollen lips. Izuku's sighs reverberating deep within his bones as Katsuki licks a wet strip up the unblemished skin to his ears.

Izuku's hips jerk sharply when he bites the lobe, the movement slotting their erections together just right, both groaning at the friction. The flimsy barrier of their undergarments and breeches doing little to hide the growing need between them.

«Wanna fuck you so bad, Deku,» Katsuki says, voice gravely and fingers digging into the meat of his consort-to-be's rear. He knows they can't; not right now, without the necessary equipment. It doesn't stop him from craving though. «Wanna feel you around my cock.»

«Yes, Kacchan,» Izuku answers. He arches against his broader chest, his scarred hands quiver slightly as they snake down Katsuki's stomach, fumbling blindingly to undo the belt and string of the damp cotton bottoms. «Please.»

Katsuki's about to tell him it won't be doable tonight, then he notices Izuku gesturing vaguely, feels the faint hum of his innate magic at work. From the corner of his vision, he sees a small terracotta vase teetering in the air toward them. A blond eyebrow quirks in question; his stare lifts from where he's been busy playfully gnawing at a collarbone, until it meets Izuku's blushing face and hazy eyes.

He laughs, delighted and cocky.

«Someone was expecting something ta happen tonight, mh?» he teases, slapping an ass-cheek and enjoying the squeak he gets in return. «Didn't look too sad to be snowed-in-» he snatches the pot before Izuku's control slips and makes it crash on the stone floor- «this why?»

Izuku mumbles, embarrassed and unintelligible.

«Hey, I'm not complaining Deku,» Katsuki reassures, planting a chaste kiss on the other's pouting lips.

«Kacchan, please...»

«Yeah...»

Together, they shift, raising on their knees so both Katsuki's breeches and Izuku's shirt can be discarded. Katsuki then guides Izuku backward, to lay onto the dried, forgotten, forest-green cape — a match to his own crimson one, the Bakugou family crest emblazoned on it in gold; a gift he'd given the other two years prior, when he'd officially proposed to him —. He takes care to cushion Izuku's head against the fur collar and crawls into his space.

He kisses him again, tongue slipping past willing lips to wetly glide alongside Izuku's own. Katsuki moves down the pliant body beneath him, nipping and sucking marks into creamy skin dotted with dark chocolate-brown freckles; tugging and flicking dusky-pink nipples.

Izuku's undergarments are slipped off with deft fingers while Katsuki distracts him with his mouth, blowing raspberries into his stomach and grinning as his breathless pants turn into breathless laughter. A shiver runs up Izuku's spine as the colder air hits his heated skin, and Katsuki's warm hands are there to chase it away. He smooths his palms down along toned legs as far as he can reach without moving from his spot, kneads his fingers into Izuku's thighs and sides, and up his torso.

Only when the bewitching body underneath him is quaking in need, does Katsuki finally pay attention to Izuku's cock. He's hard, flushed an inviting shade of dark pink and already leaking.

«Ya look delicious Deku,» he says, smirking as he lowers himself to lewdly lick a strip of saliva over the underside of Izuku's cock. One hand around the base, the other cupping his balls gently.

«Ka— Kacch… aahn…!»

Katsuki hums, lips enclosing the head, the tip of his tongue pressing into the slit and under the foreskin. He sucks lightly, pleased to hear the choked off gasp from Izuku. Katsuki swallows him down painstakingly slow, with almost-lazy bobs of his head and flicks of his tongue, barely-there strokes and caresses with his hands — he loves torturing the other like this, the sounds he can pry out of Izuku music to his ears —. He loves feeling him squirm and cry out.

Katsuki pulls off to take a breath, snatching the vase with the lotion in the meantime, popping the cork off and settling it next to them.

«H-hurry, Kacchan…» Izuku says, staring up at him with glazed eyes, the green overshadowed by dilated pupils.

Katsuki huffs, pretending to be irritated. «Impatient, are we?» He can't blame him though, his own dick is stiff and throbbing in his undergarments, longing to feel the other's heat surround him.

He dips two fingers into the pot; the transparent, viscous lotion coats his hand when he takes them out and spreads it over his palm. Soon after, he's teasing a circle around Izuku's entrance with a slick finger. Izuku whines, writhing on the cape as he tries to make the digit slip inside; when it does, he sighs such a delighted «yesss», it resounds even inside Katsuki's chest.

«Fuck, Izuku...» he groans, leaning in to sloppily kiss him while he works his finger deeper. «'S been a while, huh.»

«Yeah… ah!» Izuku nods, his hips rocking onto the hand between his thighs.

The wedding preparations have kept them both busy for the better part of last month — the constant ebb and flow of people coming in, to teach Izuku to dance; to choose decorations and food and music. Court meetings for foreign dignitaries, training —, leaving too little time and energy to enjoy their hard-earned intimacy with nothing but cuddling and simply sleeping together.

This snowstorm has been a nice opportunity to… catch up on that.

Katsuki is as quick yet thorough as he dares. Neither of them wants to cum without being connected, but they're also coiled too tight after so long; this round isn't going to last.

He's scissoring and spreading and curling three fingers inside Izuku for what feels like hours, rubbing grounding circles on his hip with his free hand. He kisses, sucks and nips at the expanse of skin at his disposal to add sensations at odd times. He brings Izuku to a dry orgasm; he's sobbing and quaking, straining to stroke his dripping cock but Katsuki restrains his wrists with his hand.

Only then does he take out his fingers.

«Ah… haa, Ka… Kacchan— shit, please— need you in-inside...»

Katsuki's answer is a low groan. His undergarments are tossed to the side hastily; he slicks up his cock, lotion mixing with his copious precum, and lines up to Izuku's ass. He drapes the other's legs around his waist, Izuku understanding the implicit prompt to link his ankles behind his back.

Katsuki pushes in, the glide easy and painless after the generous preparation and the slackness from Izuku's previous orgasm. He bottoms out with a rasping breath, his nerves aflame.

«F-fuck,» he stutters, biting his lower lip and scrunching eyes closed in concentration. «Won't last… long, De-Deku… Fuck— ya feel so good...»

«Y-you t-too Ka— nnh!— Kacchan!»

«Shit— 'm movin'...»

Katsuki takes a breath, bracing himself as he pulls out halfway before pressing back in. The pace he sets is swift; thrusts inelegant but precise, the angle good enough for him to brush Izuku's sweet spot just right. His hips snap back and forth. Izuku arches under him, meets his thrusts with his own wild ones, bucking onto the cock pounding into him with shudders and moans and calls of Katsuki's name.

The wet slap of skin on skin is loud and lewd, a perfect counterpoint to their mingled sounds and the crackling of the fire.

«S-shit— Izu… ku— nngh!»

Katsuki's movements falter. He throws his head back with a groan, eyes squeezed tight as he buries himself deep inside Izuku, filling him up spurt after spurt. In the haze of his climax, Katsuki languidly strokes Izuku to orgasm. He grins smugly through the rush of endorphin when the other cums without even trying to take matters into his own hand.

«Kacchan...» Izuku says a minute later, breath almost back to normal and snuggled into Katsuki's chest.

«Mmh?»

«You were really pent up, a lot came out… how am I going to clean up? We don't have enough water for a bath and-and you know it gets, uhm, uncomfortable to have se-semen up there for too long so— waah!»

Katsuki cuts him off by abruptly flipping him over, hands grabbing Izuku's sides and bending down to bite at a round ass cheek.

«I'll just eat my cum and your ass out then.»

«Wha— Kacchan, no! Wait a— ah!— Kacch… oh! Oh!»

Katsuki laughs a little meanly. «You're gonna walk up the throne room and get married with a fucking limp tomorrow, Deku— 'm gonna fuck you so good.»

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bnha #this was written for the bkdk secret santa 2018 #funkys fics

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

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Songs That Make Your Heart Beat Tag

I was tagged by @sheimagineddragons. Thank you so much, Kit! 😊 I can’t live without music, so I’m excited about this tag game. I read a quote somewhere that said ‘music is what feelings sound like’ and I love it so much that I might get it tattooed one day because I feel that in my soul. Music is art and it’s a gift 😍

Rules: put 5 songs that just make you feel out of this world with a short explanation: it could be your comfort songs, your favorite ones, anything that makes you feel things! And then tag your friends!

1. Not Yet / Love Run by The Amazing Devil.

All songs by this band make my heart beat and race and they make me laugh and cry and feel all the emotions! Joey Batey and Madeleine Hyland really appeared out of nowhere one day and claimed my heart. But this song became my absolute favorite, it has longing and tenderness but also a bit of ferocity and it’s comforting and it makes me feel courageous and I don’t even know how many more things. It also has some of my favorite lyrics, like ‘sing me awake with a song about pirates and I will try to harmonize, and sip the sunlight from your eyes’... how beautiful is that? Or ‘run to show love’s worth running to’ or ‘run for all the things that drum’. I just... I’m so happy that I watched the Witcher and it got me to know Joey and this amazing band, because every single song shakes me to my core in the best way possible, and I deeply relate to the lyrics in a way I had never before, they resonate with me so much 💜

2. So Far Away by Avenged Sevenfold.

Avenged Sevenfold had been my favorite band for years until TAD dethroned it. For the most part, however, Sevenfold’s songs are catchy and have such energy that I love listening to them, but they’re not usually as deep as TAD’s songs (which is why I now like TAD more) but not So Far Away. For those of you that don’t know, they wrote this song for their friend and drummer of the band, Jimmy ‘The Rev’ Sullivan when he died. It’s a sad and melancholic song, but it’s so beautiful. I would say a few lyrics I like, but I’d end up copying the whole song here. It was also my best friend’s favorite song (I think it changed now, but for the longest time we shared it as our favorite), and there’s one more special thing about it. The song reminds me of my grandparents, which passed recently (my grandpa died around 10 years ago, but my grandma died last year) and I’m more fond of it for that reason. Sometimes I pick up my guitar and sing this song at the top of my lungs as a personal dedication to them. I’m that sappy, but it makes me feel better and miss them just a little less.

3. Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.

Moving on to something less emotional and more happy, a famous song by one of my favorite bands as well as the other two. Fun fact, I only properly listened to this song recently even if I enjoyed others by Queen. It’s interesting, because I had heard it a long time ago (who hasn’t heard it?) and I didn’t like it. But then, years later, I listened to it again and fell in love. There’s a reason why Queen is so popular, and this song is one of them. It’s such a complex and beautifully composed song! It has lots of changes, really well executed, and it tells such a unique story. And I can’t explain why it gets to me, but it makes me emotional and it makes me want to sing it at the top of my lungs. It also has little details like the ‘sending shivers down my spine’ part where you hear windchimes that kind of feel like shivers and it’s so cool? Love it.

4. Sound of Silence by Disturbed.

I have heard the original and it’s fine. I have heard other Disturbed songs and even it’s my preferred music genre (heavy metal) they’re fine. But this song is so powerful! It has such raw emotion with the way it’s sung, with that unique broken voice and the singer pours his heart out on it and it gives me goosebumps. The song has such a distinct mood and tone and it makes my imagination soar (in fact it has inspired one of my novels) and it’s another song that I love singing along to, at the top of my lungs, because it really reaches my heart.

5. Never Too Late by Three Days Grace

This was also my favorite song and my favorite band for the longest time and they both still hold a special place in my heart. This song helped me during tough times, it gave me hope and strength anad reminded me that you can always fight and push through, that it’s never too late to follow your dreams even if the lyrics don’t exactly say that, but it just inspired me. Adam Gontier’s voice is also one of my favorites (in fact guess who I named my first ever OC after?) and it’s tragic but gorgeous and it makes me feel so much.

Honorable mentions (I had to): Broken by Seether ft. Amy Lee, Show Must Go On by Queen, Invincible by Muse, Mama Said by Metallica, Gone Away by Noctura, In My Arms by Plumb, Dream On by Journey, Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley, Waste My Time by Saint Asonia, Set Me Free by Avenged Sevenfold, Destiny by Genderdyn ft Kigare.

I don’t know who’s done this or who to tag, so feel free to do it if you want to!

#i know i ranted but... i'm in love with music ok?#i really want to get a tattoo that's music related #maybe a treble clef with a heart or something #tagged #tag game #music #sheimagineddragons #about me

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- The Tale of the Three Brothers

James flipped to the last story with nostalgia, this had been his absolute favorite when he was younger, and he couldn't wait to tell Harry about it and watch him understand why.

As he read the title though, Harry felt that flash through his mind, a squirm through his innards. An understanding he still had no knowledge of, why this story must be what had caught his eye to begin with, what on earth it all could mean...

There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across.

Even as James began the feeling only intensified, though oddly Harry's vision swam double for a moment and he was sure it should be Hermione reading this to him, in a much different place...but it was all gone the moment he tried to latch onto it, and instead he settled back in his seat and tried to listen with the same attentiveness he had all the other silly tales.

However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.

And Death spoke to them.

Lily did a double take in surprise, and Harry's eyes popped, causing the other three to laugh, but the shock passed quickly. This really wasn't any more weird than any other things going on with these novels.

He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.

"Why aren't we ever awarded for doing shit?" Sirius sighed.

"Eventually the teachers would run out of rewards and circle back to punishment anyways, I suppose they just skipped ahead," Remus shrugged.

So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.

Harry couldn't help it, shifting his weight around more and more, a burn he'd been peacefully lacking while not having to relearn his old memories sadly paining him now again over something clearly so stupid. He clenched his shaking hand tight and resisted the impulse with all his might not to clutch at his aching head again, just concentrated on his dads voice.

Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.

His feeling only growing worse by the second, somehow James trying to read in a goofy lighthearted tone contrasting heavily with a deep echo of words he knew his father also once saying to him...

The others noticed of course, but Harry looking so pained over something like this they had no clue of was sadly nothing new. So Lily placed her arm gently around his shoulders and waited as long as he needed to take a moment to breath again before nodding at James, who was monstrously disappointed something they'd thought Harry would just simply enjoy for once was still actually causing him pain.

And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death.

'The third brother...' this more than the others resonated with Harry, even as he kept rubbing at his forehead with pain he latched onto anything his mind could make sense of. He had not a clue why remembering this was hurting him so, as painful as if he were trying to remember something before it happened to him again, but thankfully like before so long as he didn't force the feeling it began to ebb.

James glanced hopefully at Harry and kept going with that same excitement, glad to see whatever Harry was struggling with he was fighting off, this was his favorite part!

So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.

"You have got to be kidding me," Lily said in exasperation, actually eyeing James like she worried he was making this up as he went along. Knowing her husband, it wasn't even that crazy.

"Nope," James insisted, popping the P for emphasis even as he kept his eyes on Harry while still addressing Lily. "My dad read this story to me all the time when I was little, loved to go on about how this was where my Cloak came from."

Lily had honestly never thought why James cloak worked the way it had, he'd only shown it to her in the last year and by that time he had no real use for it. She'd had other things on her mind

when he'd showed it to her, like realizing one of her friends was a werewolf, so she'd never questioned too deeply his declaration it had been in his family for generations.

Now though, she raised a skeptical brow at him and demanded, "and you really think your Cloak came from the manifestation of Death?"

"Nah," he brushed off, a bit disappointed it wasn't Harry going along, but at least it was clear he was listening with his head tilted towards them even as he kept flattening his hair and clearly trying to repress rubbing his scar more. "I don't think my dad really did either, most of us have just come to the conclusion someone along the line made it but lost the record of how they did. Now it's just more of a family secret. Still fun how it somehow made it's way into a kids novel, maybe even where the original idea of creating it came from, so technically..." he trailed off with a still superior little smile no one acknowledged. His friends had heard all this too many times and just yawned when he looked over, and he pouted before continuing.

Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts.

In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination.

The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, he sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel.

Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed.

Harry's mind wanted to seize painfully on this, talk of the Elder Wand had cropped up once in here already, but he was instantly distracted by the others once more.

"I always wonder how much of that is just confidence," Remus couldn't help but scoff. "It really does wonders, and then his boasting just caused this tail to begin with."

"Bragging only takes you so far until you have to prove it," Sirius disagreed, his eyes gleaming with want.

When it was clear they had no more to say on it than before though, he tried desperately to ignore his disappointment and continued headache.

Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible.

That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat.

"Charming," Lily crinkled her nose in disgust.

And so Death took the first brother for his own.

Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry before her untimely death appeared at once before him.

Harry could not seem to settle during this story, shifting anxiously more every second, now twirling his ring around in unease as if some part of him knew to be worried abut this. At least he did know why his eyes lingered on his parents now, what he would have given for that stone some point before all this- then his mind went blank with another snap of pain and he just shook his head miserably for his brain never working properly.

Yet she was silent and cold, separated from him as though by a veil.

All of them flinched heavily at that description, none appreciating the reminder.

Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her.

Lily tightened her hold on her son, feeling the urge to be sick at still seeing that lingering look of longing in place. She disliked this one most of all for that line alone, why was that in a story for kids?!

And so Death took the second brother for his own.

But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son.

James declared this with contentment, his eyes lingering on his child more than the words now as he finished. His infant sat in his godfathers lap, gurgling happily, and it still gave the father comfort that no matter his child's future, his heirloom would still hold.

And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.

"Wow, I think that was the shortest one yet," Lily crinkled her brow in fascination. She wasn't even sure where the moral in that one was. After mulling it over for a moment while the boys all declared which object they'd pick, James and Remus the cloak and Sirius the wand, she interrupted Harry, "what exactly is the point of including that one?"

"Oh come on Lily, not everything needs to have a point," James sighed. "It's a fun novelty, gives kids a chance to dream of some cool objects one day."

"I actually have a fond memory of me and Regulus on a 'quest,' looking for these," Sirius smiled reminiscently. "Of course it ended with us nabbing our fathers wand and being grounded for a week, but it was fun for an hour or two."

"So you guys don't believe they're real?" Harry interrupted, causing them all to look at him in surprise.

"Well," James began slowly, weary of the intensity with which Harry had asked. "Like I said, my cloak, I think anyways, was built from this myth as far back as my family tree will trace, yet it doesn't mean Death gave it to someone so long ago. So there's really no proof the others don't exist-"

"But there's no more proof they do either," Remus shook his head with such exasperated skepticism Harry could already feel they'd had this argument long before. "This Stone sounds like another idea of the Philosophers Stone, and though that was once made, the recipe for that is as lost as James' cloak, or at least, Flamel and Dumbledore certainly aren't sharing; so it's existence is still nothing but questionable."

"The wand is all about how you read your history," Sirius quickly tacked in before Moony could go off again on more theory's. "People have been claiming since the existence of wands to have an unbeatable one-"

"And it's caused nothing but more bloodshed and murder," Lily said with finality. As if they needed more of that in their life to be sitting around discussing it.

Sirius shrugged but made no argument so James gave Harry a curious look before going on into what Dumbledore had to say about this, honestly very curious.

Albus Dumbledore on "The Tale of the Three Brothers"

This story made a profound impression on me as a boy. I heard it first from my mother, and it soon became the tale I requested more often than any other at bedtime.

James couldn't help but chuckle slightly he had something so in common with Dumbledore. As angry as he still was at him, he really was trying his hardest not to let that linger for now at least.

This frequently led to arguments with my younger brother, Aberforth, whose favorite story was "Grumble the Grubby Goat".

Sirius snorted randomly, honestly just thankful to have any more information about this brother they'd kept hearing about but had no knowledge of before this.

The moral of "The Tale of the Three Brothers" could not be any clearer: human efforts to evade or overcome death are always doomed to disappointment.

James looked pleased and turned gloatingly to his wife, who still had a sour face, thinking there were better ways to have this in a story that didn't involve murder and suicide.

The third brother in the story ("the humblest and also the wisest") is the only one who understands that, having narrowly escaped Death once, the best he can hope for is to postpone their next meeting for as long as possible.

"Really makes you wonder how he copulated under a cloak, I mean the broad-"

Remus reached over and plugged his nose while James kept going loudly around him.

This youngest brother knows that taunting Death by engaging in violence, like the first brother, or by meddling in the shadowy art of necromancy,1 like the second brother - means pitting oneself against a wily enemy who cannot lose.

The irony is that a curious legend has grown up around this story, which precisely contradicts the message of the original. This legend holds that the gifts Death gives the brothers "an unbeatable wand, a stone that can bring back the dead, and an Invisibility Cloak that endures forever" are genuine objects that exist in the real world. The legend goes further: if any person becomes the rightful owner of all three, then he or she will become "master of Death", which has usually been understood to mean that they will be invulnerable, even immortal.

Harry couldn't help but make a keening noise of frustration, shaking his head frantically and wishing more than anything right now his brain would quit setting itself on fire. He wasn't relearning any memories more than he should, so why on earth did all of this feel so monumental, and also decide to torment him for learning it all too soon before other things to come? All of this felt like little puzzles that would not weld together, so thankfully he wasn't suffering as bad as he could, but more than any before, he simply wished this would just end.

James fully realized this and wanted to close this in disappointment and be done as well. Clearly this was doing nothing but hurting his son no matter how much they couldn't understand why, but then Harry surprised them by telling without even looking up, "go ahead and finish, it's a better distraction than wondering why this is all supposed to mean something I suppose."

James disagreed, clearly Harry had a conversation about this with Dumbledore at some point and it was paining him to have to remember even vague details about it now, but to deny Harry would only make what he said all the more true, so he fingered the next page and just tried to keep going with more urgency than some silly story should provide.

We may smile, a little sadly, at what this tells us about human nature. The kindest interpretation would be: "Hope springs eternal".

Lily couldn't help but smile for that line, aware that none but her would recognize a quote from a muggle poet Alexander Pope, but it was one she'd carried through most of her life, where her optimism so often sprang from as well, hope.

In spite of the fact that, according to Beedle, two of the three objects are highly dangerous, in spite of the clear message that Death comes for us all in the end, a tiny minority of the wizarding community persists in believing that Beedle was sending them a coded message, which is the exact reverse of the one set down in ink, and that they alone are clever enough to understand it.

Sirius couldn't help but snort with mirth at that line. Who on earth was mad enough to go looking for coded messages in a kids tale?*

Their theory (or perhaps "desperate hope" might be a more accurate term) is supported by little actual evidence. True Invisibility Cloaks, though rare, exist in this world of ours; however, the story makes it clear that Death's Cloak is of a durable nature.2

Through all the centuries that have intervened between Beedle's day and our own, nobody has ever claimed to have found Death's Cloak.

"I do wonder how no one in your family was mad enough to try," Lily couldn't help but ask him. "I understand why you didn't," she unconscionably inclined her head towards Remus, their cloak had been invaluable in their attempts to help him in much of their youth, "but no one before you?"

"I've only met my granddad once, but he told me an epic tale about his great-granddad trying," James told with a nostalgic smile, and finally Harry was looking on with that interest he so deserved in learning more about his history. "Tried to find a way to replicate the cloak, mass produce it for more money, our inheritance from the line was running thin by then. Anyways, something went awfully wrong right away, before the man could put one spell on it, and so I was told there's a curse upon it, wrought to anyone who attempts to divulge it's secrets." He finished in a goofy mystical voice.

"So only use it for good and not to steal, got it," Harry couldn't help but laugh lightly, which helped him to ignore a funny tickle in his memory he may have learned that the hard way as well.

This is explained away by true believers thus: either the third brother's descendants do not know where their Cloak came from, or they know and are determined to show their ancestor's wisdom by not trumpeting the fact.

"Well that ones out the bush," Sirius said at once. "Prongs can't show an ounce of wisdom unless he's threatened with wrought!"

James gave him a calculating look before reminding, "who exactly was it who got caught underneath it by Flitwick and had to give the lamest excuse ever for it's existence?"

Sirius let out a lengthy breath, realized his mate wasn't going to go on until Harry stopped looking at him with an already twitching smile for whatever this could be, and finally muttered, "I was, when I told him I was just trying to smuggle in a demiguise from Kettleburn."

"So who had to steal it back?" James wouldn't let go.

"You did, by spending the whole weekend and fifty Galleons to buy a demiguise and give it to Kettleburn while Remus snuck into his office to get the cloak."

"Exactly," he finished pleasantly before going on while Sirius still muttered profanities about that mess.

Naturally enough, the stone has never been found, either. As I have already noted in the commentary for "Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump", we remain incapable of raising the dead, and there is every reason to suppose that this will never happen. Vile substitutions have, of course, been attempted by Dark wizards, who have created Inferi,3

They all made faces at the mention of those, though Harry gave the nastiest little shiver he was sure he didn't want to understand so didn't question what they were.

but these are ghastly puppets, not truly reawoken humans. What is more, Beedle's story is quite explicit about the fact that the second brother's lost love has not really returned from the dead. She has been sent by Death to lure the second brother into Death's clutches, and is therefore cold, remote, tantalizingly both present and absent.4

James breath caught enough all on its own he didn't notice Harry's and he had to resist the urge with all his might not to squeeze his eyes shut in pain lest he have a horrifying vision of Sirius looking anything like that.

This leaves us with the wand, and here the obstinate believers in Beedle's hidden message have at least some historical evidence to back up their wild claims. For it is the case whether because they liked to glorify themselves, or to intimidate possible attackers, or because they truly believed what they were saying, that wizards down the ages have claimed to possess a wand more powerful than the ordinary, even an "unbeatable" wand. Some of these wizards have gone so far as to claim that their wand is made of elder, like the wand supposedly made by Death. Such wands have been given many names, among them "the Wand of Destiny" and "the Deathstick".

It is hardly surprising that old superstitions have grown up around our wands, which are, after all, our most important magical tools and weapons. Certain wands (and therefore their owners) are supposed to be incompatible:

When his wand's oak and hers is holly, then to marry would be folly.

"Wonder what it says about mahogany and willow," James asked pleasantly while batting his eyes at his wife.

"The first is an idiot and the second is the fool who fell for that idiot," Lily returned pleasantly.

"You can do better than that Evans, it didn't even rhym," Sirius scoffed.

"Potter," they both corrected him, causing the two to smile at each other and Sirius to smirk.

or to denote flaws in the owner's character:

Rowan gossips,

"I never gossiped," Sirius muttered, "wandlore is stupid anyways."

"You're right, you should have had chestnut," Remus rolled his eyes while Sirius huffed at him.

chestnut drones, Ash is stubborn, hazel moans.

And sure enough, within this category of unproven sayings we find:

Wand of elder, never prosper.

Whether because of the fact that Death makes the fictional wand out of elder in Beedle's story, or because power-hungry or violent wizards have persistently claimed that their own wands are made of elder, it is not a wood that is much favored among wandmakers.

The first well-documented mention of a wand made of elder

"Ugh, isn't he done yet!" Sirius groaned. "I didn't care this much, I'm starting to feel like I'm being force fed a history lesson!"

"Still the most interesting one we've ever had," James shrugged, continuing with honest curiosity, as it had yet to say what Dumbledore felt about any of this, just stating the facts of others.

that had particularly strong and dangerous powers was owned by Emeric, commonly called "the Evil", a short-lived but exceptionally aggressive wizard who terrorized the South of England in the early Middle Ages. He died as he had lived, in a ferocious duel with a wizard known as Egbert. What became of Egbert is unknown, although the life expectancy of medieval duellers was generally short. In the days before there was a Ministry of Magic to regulate the use of Dark Magic, dueling was usually fatal.

"I am fairly confident dueling is still fatal," Lily muttered.

A full century later, another unpleasant character, this time named Godelot, advanced the study of Dark Magic by writing a collection of dangerous spells with the help of a wand he described in his notebook as "my most wicked and subtle friend, with bodie of Ellhorn,6 who knowes ways of magick moste evile". (Magick Moste Evile became the title of Godelot's masterwork.)

As can be seen, Godelot considers his wand to be a helpmeet, almost an instructor. Those who are knowledgeable about wandlore5 will agree that wands do indeed absorb the expertise of those who use them, though this is an unpredictable and imperfect business;

one must consider all kinds of additional factors, such as the relationship between the wand and the user, to understand how well it is likely to perform with any particular individual.

Nevertheless, a hypothetical wand that had passed through the hands of many Dark wizards would be likely to have, at the very least, a marked affinity for the most dangerous kinds of magic.

Harry had been rubbing his palm against his knee through most of that passage, wishing that tingling sensation would vanish already almost as much as this loaded feeling there was much more to be remembered about all of this, not much of it pleasant.

Most witches and wizards prefer a wand that has "chosen" them to any kind of second-hand wand, precisely because the latter is likely to have learned habits from its previous owner that might not be compatible with the new user's style of magic. The general practice of burying (or burning) the wand with its owner, once he or she has died, also tends to prevent any individual wand learning from too many masters. Believers in the Elder Wand, however, hold that because of the way in which it has always passed allegiance between owners "the next master overcoming the first, usually by killing him."

"How can it be an unbeatable wand if it's passed along through death?" Remus couldn't resist poking at Sirius who was still trying to pretend he was bored with this by twirling his wand about even as he kept his head tilted towards James to hear these details giving him away. "That feels redundant."

"Use your imagination Moony, wands pass along without consent. It doesn't happen often-"

"But every single time?" Remus persisted.

Lily cleared her throat obnoxiously so that they'd stop carrying on while Harry gave her a grateful look and flattened his hair again, though it did no more good than banishing his headache.

the Elder Wand has never been destroyed or buried, but has survived to accumulate wisdom, strength and power far beyond the ordinary.

"You think that's why Mrs. Longbottom gave Neville his dads wand?" Harry pointed out something that had lingered in his mind, aside from the rest of that torture going on inside the Department of Mysteries.

"Neville didn't get his parents killed," Sirius said so sharply Harry jumped and looked at him in surprise.

"Not that, the accumulating wisdom bit, strength and power over time. I'll bet she's looking for Frank in Neville or something," he finished with still distant eyes, and they were all wondering what he was really thinking of, yet sure they were all missing it.

"Well, he'll be getting his own now, so whatever her intent was it's gone," Lily said gently.

"I'll bet Neville's magic will be loads better this year because of that," James agreed happily. "Even better than he was showing in the DA."

"Least that's one good thing to be looking forward to," Remus muttered.

Godelot is known to have perished in his own cellar, where he was locked by his mad son, Hereward. We must assume that Hereward took his father's wand, or the latter would have been able to escape, but what Hereward did with the wand after that we cannot be sure. All that is certain is that a wand called "the Eldrun6 Wand" by its owner, Barnabas Deverill, appeared in the early eighteenth century, and that Deverill used it to carve himself out a reputation as a fearsome warlock, until his reign of terror was ended by the equally notorious Loxias, who took the wand, rechristened it "the Deathstick", and used it to lay waste to anyone who displeased him. It is difficult to trace the subsequent history of Loxias's wand, as many claimed to have finished him off, including his own mother.

"Dumbledore's sure done a lot of research on this," James flipped to the next page and was actually relieved to see it was the last. "I'm starting to agree with Sirius, what's the point of all this?"

"The man does his homework?" Remus shrugged indifferently while Lily didn't care past wanting it to be done with as well.

Harry just looked around at all of them and ground his teeth together rather than blurt out something he'd regret.

What must strike any intelligent witch or wizard on studying the so-called history of the Elder Wand is that every man who claims to have owned it7 has insisted that it is "unbeatable", when the known facts of its passage through many owners' hands demonstrate that not only has it been beaten hundreds of times, but that it also attracts trouble as Grumble the Grubby Goat attracted flies.

Remus still couldn't help a little smirk of victory he and Dumbledore seemed to agree on that front, than he caught sight of Harry and fully remembered all that Dumbledore would do in this future, and the smile slipped away just as fast.

Ultimately, the quest for the Elder Wand merely supports an observation I have had occasion to make many times over the course of my long life: that humans have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.

"Wonder if he's speaking from experience," Lily said waspishly, having several accounts of the man doing just that.

But which of us would have shown the wisdom of the third brother, if offered the pick of Death's gifts?

James couldn't help but hum thoughtfully at that. Even now, with all his years he'd had with his cloak, given the choice of the three this moment, would he still pick the same? To see his parents again, to have even just one more protection for his family? He honestly wasn't at all sure no matter what he said aloud.

Wizards and Muggles alike are imbued with a lust for power; how many would resist "the Wand of Destiny"? Which human being, having lost someone they loved, could withstand the temptation of the Resurrection Stone? Even I, Albus Dumbledore, would find it easiest to refuse the Invisibility Cloak; which only goes to show that, clever as I am, I remain just as big a fool as anyone else.

"Ah, he does admit it, even to himself," Sirius growled.

"Wonder what changes then in times for him to take so long to do so," Harry snapped at no one in here while his dad finished.

1 Necromancy is the Dark Art of raising the dead. It is a branch of magic that has never worked, as this story makes clear.

2 Invisibility Cloaks are not, generally, infallible. They may rip or grow opaque with age, of the charms placed upon them may wear off, or be countered by charms of revealment. This is why witches and wizards usually turn, in the first instance, to Disillusionment Charms for self-camouflage or concealment. I have been known to be able to perform a Disillusionment Charm so powerful as to render myself invisible without the need for a Cloak.

3 Inferi are corpses reanimated by Dark Magic.

Harry crinkled up his nose in disgust. He was right, he hadn't wanted to know.

4 Many critics believe that Beedle was inspired by the Philosopher's Stone, which makes the immortality-inducing Elixir of Life, when creating this stone that can raise the dead.

5 Such as myself.

6 Also an old name for "elder".

7 No witch has ever claimed to own the Elder Wand. Make of that what you will.

James finished with a roaring laugh while Lily snatched the book away and gave him a light swat for whatever that laugh meant. James got it back before flipping through pages randomly instead of fully addressing Harry as he uneasily told him, "well, that was the last of them."

"I'm still taking the rest of the day," Sirius said at once, he knew he couldn't handle just yet hearing of Harry's next year, it helped nothing this couldn't even end on a truly pleasant note as Harry kept eyeing that story with some deep look none of them could know until it was too late.

The others agreed with him at once, and left Harry's next year for another day, still trying to enjoy whatever distance they could without having to spend the next indeterminable amount of time for the rest of this nightmare of a future.

HPHPHPHP

Hope you enjoyed these! They really are so much fun to read and they still make me smile, plus I absolutely inhale anything to do with this world, the extra knowledge in these pages and even something as silly as what kids would have been told as their bedtimes stories in conjunction with ours endlessly fascinates me.

*I am, unashamedly. I've spent many a countless hours on Harry Potter fan sites full of inner messages of these novels, leading to the existence of this fic, so you're welcome Sirius.

#The Life That Never Lived #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #the tales of beedle the bard #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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thesurielships · 4 years

Note

feysand + “you promised me a cookie!”

kiss me like your ex is in the room

note: this is super late, I’m sorry. I hope you’re doing well, and I look forward to read your next creations when you feel better. Enjoy :))

note 2: uncle Colm is a character from Derry Girls and his lines are quoted from the show. It's a really good show, BTW.

Word count: 1.6k | Masterlist | ao3

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Rita’s bakery is the best in Velaris. They specialize in finger foods and exquisite little pastries, each more exotic and original than the next; but the town’s favorite – or at least, Feyre’s favorite – will always be their double chocolate chip cookies.

These are no simple cookies. Even though they have been critiqued by many a reputed culinary writer, the secret to the complexity of their taste has yet to be uncovered. With a chewy center and crispy edges, chocolate chips that explode in your mouth and a bittersweet aftertaste that is nothing short of addictive, plus the extreme exclusivity of Rita’s services, they are nothing short of an urban legend. In fact, hiring Rita for an event earns you a spot on the local gossip column for weeks, no questions asked.

Feyre supposes she shouldn’t be surprised that her cunning devil of a sister managed to get them to cater for her wedding. Or that she only made her maid of honor in order to work her to the bone. Nevertheless, as she gazes at Nesta’s dazzling smile and the absolutely enamored look in Cassian’s eyes, Feyre finds she is glad to be here. Even though she didn’t get to the cookies in time.

Her friend Alis catches her eye from a few tables away and as she walks towards her, a familiar voice makes her pause.

“Now, I don't mind a bit of a breeze, if any, I prefer it. But that one was aggressive. So I says to myself. I say 'Colm, this is no day for a do'. ”

The steadiness of his monotone never fails to amaze her.

“When the bride arrives, and I say by this stage, the wind was fierce. I've never heard wind like it -”

Feyre dares a peek at the new victim of her uncle Colm’s boring and endless ramblings, and the sight that greets her almost makes up for the missing cookies. Rhysand - the best man and general pain in her ass ever since she met him a couple of months ago – is the portrait of boredom. He is slouching in his chair, his chin in his hand and his eyelids drooping as he struggles to focus on uncle Colm’s story. It’s the first time she sees him without his usual smirk, and she hates that she misses it.

“Howling like a banshee it was,” her uncle drones on. “So the poor girl –”

Feyre clears her throat and Rhysand starts. She bites back a laugh at the hope that kindles in his face when he sees her.

“Feyre dear, I was just telling this handsome young fellow about –”

“The windy wedding story?”

Uncle Colm smiles at her fondly. “You remember?”

She nods solemnly. “It’s a very funny story. You should hear the rest of it, Rhysand,” she adds with a smirk.

Rhysand’s eyes are wide with horror. She can almost hear him shout ‘save me!’

“So the poor girl,” her uncle resumes his retelling, “the bride now this is –”

Feyre raises a brow defiantly. Why should I?

“She arrives and –”

He glances to his side and she follows his gaze. The prick has not one, not two, but three of Rita’s cookies on a plate.

“Isn't she no –”

“Uncle Colm,” she exclaims in a high pitched tone, “I’m sorry to interrupt such a good story, but I actually need Rhysand for a very urgent matter.”

The usually unflappable best man practically jumps out of his seat. “Duty calls, uncle Colm.”

“That’s a shame,” her uncle sighs. “I was so close to the end. Are you sure –”

“Yes,” Rhysand squeaks, and Feyre coughs to hide her laugh. “Maybe next time,” he throws over his shoulder as he drags her away.

No sooner are they out of earshot that she collapses into a fit of giggles. Rhysand frowns and she laughs harder. He tries to keep his face stern but the corners of his lips are twitching. When she finally sobers up, Feyre offers him her hand, palm up.

One groomed eyebrow lifts. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? You promised me a cookie!”

Rhysand slides his hands into his pockets and Feyre’s heart sinks. “I did no such thing.”

“But, but,” she sputters, “I saw you! You looked at those cookies!”

He chuckles, low and soft. “Those cookies aren’t mine, Feyre darling.”

“You tricked me.”

She glares up at him but freezes when her eyes fall on the doors behind him. Tamlin is here. The blood drains from her face. She can feel herself quaking in her heels and she hates how he makes her feel small just by walking in the room.

“What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer.

What in the Cauldron is he doing here? Is he here for me?

Her chest is too tight. She can’t breathe.

He’s here for me, he’s here for me, he’s here for-

“Feyre.”

She startles at Rhysand’s voice. He turns to look behind him and she grabs him by the lapel. “Don’t,” she whispers.

He patiently waits for her to explain.

“Tamlin, my ex –”

Understanding dawns in his eyes. His smile is grim.

Feyre dares another glance over his shoulder. “He’s –” she croaks, swallows, clears her throat, “comin –”

Rhysand’s lips on hers stop her short.

Feyre just stands there, too stunned to react. He draws away slightly. His hands cup her face and his thumbs stroke her cheeks lovingly. His gaze is steady on hers as he waits for her to make the next move.

Her hands are still clutching his lapels so she pulls him close and kisses him.

She means to repel Tamlin, but as soon as their lips meet she forgets everything but the man that has been haunting her dreams for months. The kiss is slow and languorous, and Feyre wonders at the softness of his lips, the gentleness of his caress. Her fingers bury in his hair and his hands trail down to her waist, setting her skin burning on their wake. She moans and he smiles. She bites his lower lip so he allows her entry, and Feyre is so busy committing the taste of him, the feel of him to memory that it takes her a couple of minutes to realize that someone is watching.

A throat clears next to them, and Feyre pulls away. Rhysand’s eyes are a mirror of what she’s feeling: a mixture of surprise, delight and longing. His smile is slow as he reads the naked emotions on her face, his hold tightening around her waist. Her fingers are still caressing the soft hair at the base of his neck.

Tamlin clears his throat once again and Feyre reluctantly untangles herself from Rhysand, though he nestles his hand in the small of her back to keep her close.

“Tamlin,” she begins and is surprised to find her voice strong and her knees steady. She remembers something an old friend of hers told her in the dark days following their break up. ‘Only you can decide what breaks you.’ And here, in Nesta’s wedding and in Rhysand’s arms, Feyre decides she is done being afraid of her controlling asshole of an ex.

She levels a condescending glare at Tamlin and says nothing, but he’s too busy scowling at Rhys to notice. “Who. Are. You?”

Feyre’s nostrils flare. How typical of him to dismiss her, to address any one but her as though what she has to say doesn’t matter.

Rhysand’s only answer is his arrogant smirk, and she kind of wants to laugh.

“Tamlin.”

Now he looks at her, frowning at the smirk dancing on her lips, a mirror of her companion’s.

“This is my boyfriend, Rhys. But you can call him Rhysand.”

Her accomplice’s fingers poke her side in amusement. “And who might you be?” he asks, looking down his nose at the man who has been haunting her nightmares for months.

“I’m Feyre’s fiancé,” Tamlin bites back.

Rhysand’s face is disinterested, almost bored. “Darling, you didn’t tell me you were engaged.”

She shoots him a sheepish smile. “I guess it slipped my mind.” And because she just can’t help herself, she puts a hand back on his muscled chest and says in a sultry voice, “I can’t think of much when you’re around.”

The moment she says it, the truth of it resonates in her heart. She doesn’t know what gives her away, but something sparks in Rhysand’s eyes and he pulls her impossibly closer. “Yeah?”

She bites her lip. “Yeah.”

His smile takes her breath away. She doesn’t bother looking back at Tamlin as she declares, “For the record, asshole, we are not engaged. I refused your proposal three months ago.”

“You were confused. You don’t know what –” Tamlin starts but Rhysand interrupts him, “You heard the lady.”

Rhysand’s gaze doesn’t stray from hers for a second. Feyre is drowning, no, floating in this moment. She feels free, unmoored. She wants to throw her head back and laugh until she cries. She wants to dance until her feet ache. She wants to hold this man and never let go.

“Thank you,” her voice is earnest. “You saved me.”

He leans so close their noses touch. “You know, Tamlin left a few seconds ago.”

Feyre loops her arms around his neck. “Is that so?”

His eyes are brighter than stars. “About those cookies,” he begins, almost hesitantly. “I could bake you some.”

She raises a disbelieving brow.

“I know, I know. I’m no Rita, but I happen to have a mighty good recipe. Except instead of flour, I use oatmeal –”

Feyre grimaces.

“Instead of butter, coconut oil.”

She scrunches her nose in disgust.

“And instead of chocolate –”

“You’re replacing chocolate?”

“It could be a date.”

Feyre’s heart stumbles. She glances left and right then stands on the tips of her toes to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. “I would be burned at the stake if the people around here found out I chose this awful creation instead of a good ol’ Ritacookie –”

Rhysand rolls his eyes.

“But it’s a date.”

Tag list: @joyceortiz13 @bailey-4244 @quakeriders @standbislytherin @mariamuses @ignite14 @1800-fight-me @velarian-trash @rhysands-highlady @queenblueoffire @rowaelinforeverworld @feeoly @buckybvrnes @dayanna-hatter @shadowstar2313 @goldfishh20 @sleeping-and-books @crackedship @your-high-lady @thesirenwashere @whiskeybusiness1776 @amren-courtofdreams @tswaney17 @julemmaes @booksbooksbooksworld @queenofbumblebees @meowsekai @awkward-avocado-s

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astertataricvs · 4 years

Text

Miya Atsumu; how endearing

summary: Atsumu would frequently receive confessions from girls. But yours is the one that caught his attention.

word count: 2k+

Above the busy city, the honking of cars, the people walking down the street, and in a certain place where Inarizaki High School is established. The eminent azure tinctured heavens cloaked the world. It was an ordinary day the disseminated powder-puff clouds drift indolently across the interminable sky as the fresh sunlight irradiates the crevasses of every place – dusting off the darkness with the sun's glorious celestial entity.

Suna Rintarou stood in the rooftop, both elbows propped on the banisters as the youthful breeze of spring brushes through his body with the chorus birds above singing happily along with its kinds. He relished the calming atmosphere, feeling as it has a touch of magic, as if anything may happen that would grant him a magical experience.

Suna's eyes settled on the landscape before him, the varying types of edifices and houses with several colors that festoon the once cryptic hollow space billions of years ago. It was a sight indeed, suited for a man like him who's quiet all the time. But his eyes never missed catching two figures beneath him: a girl with long ebony hair and a familiar blonde hair who he was certain that it's their team's setter, Miya Atsumu.

The middle blocker already has the knowledge of what was going to occur among the two. It's the same scenario that he'd frequently witness every lunch break, Atsumu receiving a confession again, and he'd reject the girl straight away without batting an eyelash.

He doesn't care about what will happen anyway. That is precisely why he never had mentioned it to the setter that he'd often be the spectator of him acquiring a girl's love. It's not notable to him, and he isn't the type of guy who likes to stick his nose into other people's businesses. He likes to avoid that. He will always be doing that.

Although he's sick of perpetually seeing a confession from his usual spot, his eyes have adhered to the two persons who are beneath him.

Miya Atsumu has once again been summoned by a girl that he doesn't even know that she's actually studying here.

In the to-do lists of the girls in school, one of many cliché things there was to confess to someone at the courtyard of the school. Anyone with courage enough to do that was worthy of praise, even from Atsumu himself. He admired them for it but did not think it was riveting. Just another day at Inarizaki. Another thing to cross off on a list. Atsumu couldn't even remember the name of the last girl who confessed to him.

"I like you, Atsumu-kun!" The girl declared while eyes were sealed as her cheeks tinged in roseate hues.

Atsumu executes a subtle sigh as he straightens his back, preparing the words itching in his throat that he'd regularly answer girls.

"Sorry but I'm not interested." The girl pressed her trembling lips to keep the tears at bay.

Atsumu watched her with disinterest and full of boredom written on his face. It's the identical expressions he'd perceived whenever he'd reject them. Melancholic and tearful. Composing themselves from crying in front of him because they refuse to witness them weep by him, which is the thing he's most thankful for. He's not the one to blame if they'd cry to their friends in the girl's restroom or anywhere they pleased.

They were the ones who chose to confess to him even though they already knew the answer they would gain from him. The only emotion that keeps them from venturing their plan is their unyielding tenacity; their friends stimulating speeches and the hope that he might like them back – and that latter is what Atsumu despises the most.

He doesn't want to waste his time frequently hearing a girl's confession, it's revolting for always hearing it – though, he appreciates their feelings they possess for him, but it's not thrilling anymore.

Atsumu had achieved his task, so he excused himself first and left the girl behind, granting her an alone time to weep.

It is something that he doesn't want to see, he knows the feeling of rejection, but not in a romantic aspect, yet he is aware of how disheartening it felt – like you were being shrouded with darkness and feel the clenching of your heart inside your chest. Though it appears that Atsumu looks like he had tons of relationships in the past, he won't be ashamed of proclaiming to the world that he has stayed single ever since the day of his birth. Heck, he would admit that he much prefers being disengaged with the clutches of relationships and stay inclined to volleyball instead.

That's more preferable and pleasant to hear.

Atsumu tossed the ball to his twin and was satisfied as they earned a point with his set up. The coach decided to hold a practice match with every member of their club. Presently, they were having a match with Kita and Aran, who were on the other side of the net. It never ceases to amaze him every time he'd view their ace's spike and their captain's substantial receives. Despite being impressed with his teammates, Atsumu also gives his all in the game, and the thirst for victory enkindled in his system.

This is the thrill that he craves, not the same as the daffy confession of every damn girl he'd constantly receive every day.

"'Tsumu, are you done being a freak staring into space? Coach gave us a water break." The monotonous voice of his twin had snapped him out from his stupor.

"Shut the hell your mouth! I don't want to hear it from someone whose face is always stoic," he countered before stomping his foot and sauntering to where everyone was taking a rest and drinking their filled water bottle.

Osamu shrugged and followed his twin. Their captain had scolded them yet again with his more indomitable appearance and bland voice. Osamu told the blonde that Kita is more vacuous than him, and Atsumu wouldn't deny that because it's a fact. But still, the setter categorized them both in the same kind of species – the emotionless species.

He has no idea why he and his brother had distinct personalities, yet they are twins. Sometimes, he couldn't determine what Osamu was thinking about and his emotions except when they'd argue.

He is the actual opposite of his brother, lively and not impassive like him.

That is why he thinks that he's reliable and more preferable because he can show different emotions rather than Osamu, who is perpetually stoic as the same as the captain. Musing about it makes his ego skyrocketed.

Suna and Ginjima, who happened to witness Atsumu grinning like an idiot by himself, had caused them to step back and weirded out at him – well, he's already weird in the first place, though – but this kind of behavior only made him weirder.

'Is it the reason for getting confessed almost every day?' Suna mused while drinking his water.

A strum of a guitar resonates throughout the area, causing all the members to pause from their movements as their ears perked up upon hearing the sound of an instrument. It strummed in a familiar melodic pattern, but no one can figure what song it is. Suna knew that it's an acoustic guitar because of its vibrating strings and its sweet and softer tones.

Before they could even start a query, a woman's voice yet again halted them from their tracks and rendered them mute. Even Atsumu, who was in his stupor, had snapped back to reality once a sweet voice of a woman had rung within his ears.

I've never gone with the wind, just let it flow Let it take me where it wants to go

All of them are curious about the one who's singing, and they could distinguish that the noise is coming from outside their gym. Kita also grew curious, and his feet led him to the doors to discover the person behind that beautiful voice – even the captain admits that – Atsumu did not hesitate to follow Kita. His curiosity overwhelms him and wants to find out who is singing.

His mind is full of queries as to why someone would sing outside the gym. There are lots of rooms and areas in the campus for her to take a sweet moment by herself. However, Atsumu couldn't deny that he was pleased to hear the charming voice of this mysterious girl.

As once Kita and Atsumu took a peek outside, the setter's lips instantly dropped once his eyes landed on the girl he knew too well.

'Til you opened the door, there's so much more I've never seen it before I was trying to fly but I couldn't find wings But you came along and you changed everything.

Atsumu's eyes are like glue, transfixed on you, who is singing and playing the guitar. He didn't tear his gaze away from you even if he could hear the footsteps approaching behind him.

He doesn't have any clue why you were doing it here, as if you're a busker who sings and plays in streets or any other public places. But most of all, he feels his breath hitch when you stared into his eyes while singing the lyrics while playing the guitar. Your eyes never left him, and he did the same thing.

Atsumu let himself be absorbed with gawking to you as you played.

You lift my feet off the ground You spin me around You make me crazier, crazier Feels like I'm falling and I'm lost in your eyes

While you're singing, you suddenly step forward and mosey toward where Atsumu stood. Now he could feel his body turned rigid and as if his breath had seized by a lurking spirit, making him breathless.

As you finally stand before him, you sing the last lyrics of the chorus.

You make me crazier, crazier, crazier.

"I like you, Miya Atsumu-san," you confessed, voice laced with fondness, no hint of jest but utter sincerity. Looking at him like the king of the jungle that bears pride and gallantry and wouldn't waver whoever it confronts someone.

Atsumu swallowed the lump inside his throat, caught off guard, speechless and dumbfounded. Now he comprehends the situation as to why you were singing outside their gym.

It's because you were serenading him. But why English, though?

Atsumu hadn't foreseen that it would happen to him, someone serenading him as their type of confession.

That is beyond the usual. You remarkably caught him by surprise, and this is the first time he couldn't produce a coherent speech in his head – except when he's taking an exam.

"I—"

"That's all!" you squawked and bowed to him before bolting away and left everyone in an astounding state.

Kita looked over at Atsumu with his usual expression, but inwardly he was surprised as well, knowing the fact that this is the first time he had heeded a woman serenading a man. That's off-the-wall.

Everyone directed their gazes to their setter, who's still flabbergasted at the scene a while ago and stared at the path where the girl had run off.

The known Miya Atsumu, who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut, had become speechless.

Atsumu blinked his eyes, returning him to his senses from his astonishment. As he assimilates the extraordinary event earlier into his brain, he suddenly evokes a chuckle. He was dazzled by your outlandish confession and had come to pique his interest – he's not gonna lie – the way you confessed to him was impressive.

The most shocking for him was, he never perceived you to be this daring enough to serenade him in front of his teammates. Moreover, it never forded his mind that you like him in a romantic aspect since you would approach him as a mere classmate only. You haven't provided him with a hint that you fancy him. Well, it makes sense for Atsumu why you don't look like it.

After all, you are his seatmate all this time.

'How endearing.'

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya twins #hq #hq x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction

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itseivwhore · 4 years

Text

|Arno Dorian x Reader|

As soon as I opened Tumblr today,and as soon as I started to scroll down on my dashboard,the amount of Arno's gifs was infinite:literally infinite (not that I mind,of course,I like Arno and Unity a lot). And seeing all these pics,gifs,fanart about him actually made me want to contribute in adding something more about him in the dashboard,muahahaha. Who wouldn't like after all?

I wrote this One-Shot back in December for the birthday of a carissima friend of mine (you know who you are).

So that's all,enjoy that qUiTe A LoT sAd imagine about the soft baguette man.I mean,it wouldn't be THAT sad:it will be full of philosophical and deep speeches,but it will become so emotional and romantic thanks for Arno,near the end.

•Arno Dorian•|Raison d'être|

Beware:Arno being angry and speaking in French ahead ;)

~~~~~

Noises of fast and velvety steps suddenly resonated on the uncertain wooden planks of a shabby bridge,dispersing in the icy atmosphere of that late evening at the end of December.Light and white snowflakes began to descend from a sky full of gray clouds,and then fall and settle on the cold and wet stone of the streets,remaining intact for a few seconds and then melt,joining and thus mixing with some puddles;the same delicate snow that gradually,more and more frequently was slowly,and almost lazily,leaning on the robes of him,thus creating a pleasant contrast:the candid and bright white of the snow against the dark blue of his coat.

The dark roads that he was traveling and crossing with such speed and anxiety,were now desolate,not a living soul could be found outside in that late hour,where the only people he could meet were the poor and the sick who,not having their own home to live in,found refuge in the most secluded,as well as coldest and most degraded alleyways of the city.

Condensed air came out of his mouth,thus forming a thin mist that for brief moments obscured his sight;the muscles of his legs begging for mercy for the too much effort they were suffering,the lungs burning ardently inside his chest,eyes barred that snapped from one side to the other,easily climbing over obstacles as he turned and crept into the darkest shortcuts and the most unknown ways.

But the Assassin was not disturbed by anyone,by anything,all around him did not matter anything,except running.The heart that palpitated quickly into his chest,as if at any moment had suddenly burst,was nothing but an hourglass,which grains of sand quickly marked the passage of time.

Time.There was no time.He had to hurry.He had to find her.

Every step and every street he took,brought him closer and closer to the Café Théâtre,the place where he was heading,praying and hoping with all his heart and soul that she would be there:he prayed,murmured,desperately and anxiously imploring a non-existent God,hoping to find the young woman sitting on the chair by the fireplace,with a book in her lap.That she was reading,or simply in the company of the other Assassins of the confraternity,he hoped only that she was well and safe.

It was for her that Arno was running so fast,not stopping even for a moment:it was for Y/n.Not long after the late afternoon,a shady and malandrine Assassin,whom the young Dorian had met many times over the years,gave a message from the young woman for him,telling him that the female Assassin would meet him in her house,not far from the cathedral of Notre-Dame to tell him about a very important fact.The Assassin who informed him of this message seemed more than serious and self-confident:but something in his dark and deep eyes suggested something else to Arno,giving rise in him to a strange and mitigating feeling of insecurity and distrust.

Nevertheless,he followed the instructions of the mysterious Assassin given to him,and thus set out in the direction of the house of Y/n.But when Arno arrived at his destination,when he noticed that the windows of her house,usually open,were closed,when he did not find his friend there,he immediately understood everything,and he ran like never before in his entire young life.

He ran for a time that seemed eternally infinite to him,continuing to pray and hope that she would be there.And his soul was lightened a little,his heart filled with new hope when he saw the Cafè Théâtre in front of him,a few meters away.Encouraging himself not to give up at that moment,he ran for one last time to his residence.Resting both hands on the knobs of the two large wooden doors,Arno suddenly and stormyly broke into the main hall.

The soft and calm voices that filled the walls of the building ceased,many heads turned in his direction,curious and even to say the least frightened by the man with the hood still lowered over his head that partially darkened his face,stood in front of the entrance doors of the Cafè,wheezing heavily.But all those strange eyes and those discreet murmurs subsided with the same speed with which they began:the ladies returned to talk and giggle among themselves,while the men returned to smoke and play cards.

With his chest rising and lowering frantically,with the accelerated beating of his heart,Arno did not move and,remaining still and motionless on the threshold of the door,began to pass his quick and attentive eyes everywhere in the main room:among the tables arranged throughout the large room,on the wooden stage,among people,desperately sought the reason for his anxiety and concern.But she was not there.

And while he was intent on listening carefully to all the sounds and noises around him,in the anguished hope of being able to hear her candic and melodic voice that he loved so much,while he was politely pushing the people who were hindering him on the way in such a way as to be able to distinguish her only figure,he suddenly heard a strong and powerful voice coming from behind him.

"Bonsoir à toi,Arno!" when Arno turned in the direction of that familiar,deep voice,he saw his friend,as well as Assassin,Hugo who,with a mocking and happy smile on his chapped lips,was walking with big strikes in his direction.Once he got close to the young Dorian,the Assassin leaned his hand heavily over his shoulder,starting to give him some loud pats,as usual,asking him in a jovial tone if he would join him in drinking or eating something.

But even though he was trying with all his might not to reveal what he was really feeling at that moment,Arno was not able to hide and conceal his feelings.His eyes were not able to lie:with a deep look more than a thousand abysses,it was suddenly obscured by a thin veil of concern that gave to it a strange opacity.

Hugo frowned his eyebrows in a confused expression,noticing the strange appearance and behavior of his brother and,just as he was about to ask him if anything bad had happened,Arno pushed him a little aside with one hand,starting to walk in the hall again.

Ignoring the furious calls and shouts of his friend,he continued to inspect the entire Café Thèâtre:running through the long corridors,sharp steps quickly trampled on the marble floor,resounding in a thousand echoes in the silent building,spying and peeking in all the rooms,while a boulder that appeared on his heart only grew,weighing it down more and more.

A strange sensation held his stomach in a strong grip,and the same burden that he had on his chest weighed heavily and dangerously on his heart,suddenly taking possession of the hard-fought and tormented spirit of Arno when,once he had inspected all the Cafe Théâtre and all its rooms,including the kitchen,offices,tunnels and underground,he found her nowhere.

Not wanting to give up,despite his eyes showed the tiredness of the now vain search and the bitter disappointment for the lack of hope and desire to find Y/n, Arno decided to inspect the upper floors of the building.

Climbing the stairs,once arrived at the ramp,he began to look around frenetically.His tired eyes immediately leaned on the figure of an Assassin who,with his arms crossed to the chest and his back resting on the frame of the door of the training room,smiled slightly between himself while murmuring something incomprehensible under his breath.Arno immediately recognized that face,he immediately and almost instinctively recognized those smart and mischievous eyes.Anger began to grow within him,his hands closed in two fists,clenching them so much that the knuckles became white for the strength that he was oppressing.

He began to walk with great strikes towards the novice who,hearing the familiar sound of steps approaching as closer and closer,he looked up and,when he saw Arno moving quickly towards him,he widened and opened his arms,welcoming him in a strange and falsely courteous way.Smiling brazenly,he spoke out loud:

"Monsieur Dorian!What an honor!What does bring yo..." but his mocking voice and impertinent grin was suddenly transformed into an exclamation of amazement when Arno,grabbing him all of a sudden by the collar of his robes,dragged him away from the threshold of the door.

Entering the training room,Arno slammed the Assassin strongly against the wall,pressing his head against it while the young man tried in vain to throw a few punches and kicks that Arno quickly scans.So,throwing a punch in his stomach and while the young boy bent in two,groaning from the pain,Arno took the opportunity to turn him around and,taking his right arm,he tightened it behind his back,slamming him back to the wall,crushing his face with one hand.

"Dis moi où elle est" Dorian asked with a loud and authoritative voice,the wrath and the grim fury clearly distinguishable in his tone while he leaned over his prey.

"What the hell are you doing!?Leave me!" the Assassin cried out in a frightened plea,not giving up and continuing to try to escape the iron grip of the Master Assassin.Not getting an answer to his question,Arno twisted his arm even more,and from his mouth came a heartbreaking scream of pain.

"Where is her?" the older Assassin insisted,slowly spelling out word by word the question,his voice was serious,high and sharp more than a thousand blades.Flexing his wrist nimbly,he mmediately brought out the hidden blade,which he pressed against the neck of the boy,feeling pleasure in hearing his body tremble under his touch.

"I don't really know what are you talking about!" the novice blasted with a trembling and weak voice,his eyes reflecting and revealing the horror and endless fear when he saw his weapon being pointed at him.

Realizing that using strong manners would not help him and gave an answer to his question,Arno was forced to threaten him even more.

So,not letting go of his iron grip on his arm behind his back,Arno pulled him away from the wall and,pushing him abruptly,made him walk towards the burning fireplace of the training room.They stopped in front of the burning fire,his cold and sharp blade still was pressing on his skin,threatening him in a silent but effective way.

"Speak the truth" Arno ordered in a low and deep voice,yet cold and decisive near the ear of the young Assassin,but he received nothing more than a grave silence on his side.

Tired,nervous and impatient,Arno kicked the knees pits of the young Assassin,who fell to the ground,kneeling in front of the fireplace.Taking him by the hood of his robes,and putting one foot on his back,Dorian began to push him slowly towards the flames of fire and,ignoring his cries,totally ignoring his desperate pleas,asking cowardly mercy and pity,he leaned the young man more towards the flames.

"Dis moi où elle est,fils de pute!" bellowed Arno with a raucous tone,his voice like a powerful thunder that resounded in some echoes between the walls of the room,his eyes burning intensely in the warm light of fire.

"Let me go!" the novice prayed him with anguished voice,trying to get away from the hot and burning flames of the fireplace,while Arno did nothing but push him even further towards them,intimidating him.

A sharp and painful cry left his lips when the fire touched and began to burn the skin of his face:stench of burnt flesh spread throughout the room,screams of a heartbreaking and unbearable discouragement roughly torn the calm and serene atmosphere of the building;he did not care if all the people who were in the main room would hear them:he wanted,had to get at all costs an answer,even if that would have mean to kill one of his 'brother'.

"Not until you'll tell me where you sent her" Arno proclaimed in authoritative tone,pulling his head away from the fireplace,examining it carefully:the left side of his face was now completely ruined drastically,burned,flayed,some tears came down from his right eye as he was panting and groaning heavily.And desire to find Y/n,meanwhile,became stronger,more alive,and more persistent within his soul.And once again,the boy said nothing and,turning his head weakly and slowly,looked at the Master Assassin with a look that,if it had the power to kill,he would be lying on the ground,dead.

But Arno was not intimidated:his look sharper than his,darker,stronger,unscratchable as the most resistant of the armor.

"Notre Dame!NOTRE DAME!" the novice finally screamed,with a surrendering voice,almost forced while his face was being pushed back into the flames.Leaving his forceful grip on his arm and removing his head from the inside of the fireplace,Arno threw him away strongly and angrily,making him slip on the floor,where he remained,curled up on himself while covering his disfigured face with his hands.

Walking quickly in his direction,he stopped a few meters away from his tormented body,looking at him from above,towering over him.And,giving one last,long,hateful look full of anger to the novice who was trying to crawl away,despite the weakness,Arno quickly disappeared away.

And once again,he ran.

~~~

He found her there,next to the cathedral,surrounded by bodies of dead guards,puddles of blood that surrounded them,in the dark:sitting on the snowy ground,tired back resting against the cold and wet wall,shaking hands that held firmly to herself her sword,which sharp and glittering blade was dirty with blood and mud,eyes barred,gaze fixed to observe nothing.Motionless,silent,scrutinizing and looking at something non-existent,purplish lips trembled,repeatedly whispering something imperceptible.

The Assassin was standing in front of her,his brown eyes reflecting the frail,weak and defenseless figure of the woman sitting on the floor.His heart lost its beats,stopped breathing and he stood there,watching the mess around him for moments that seemed endless:for the first time in his life,he did not know what to do,what to say and especially how to act on all that.The young man's head was in a total turmoil because of many disorderly thoughts that clouded his mind and,for the first time in many years,he felt fear.

"I...I-I killed them...I killed them" the young woman stammered,starting to tremble even more,suddenly raising her shaky and faint voice,thus capturing his attention.

"Y/n" Arno quietly murmured,her name left his lips in an anguished,yet relieved tone, as he walked towards the female Assassin.

Approaching her slowly and kneeling at her side,he gently placed his hand on her shoulder,fearing to hurt her even in the slightest and simplest gesture.Stretching his arm,he placed a few strands of h/c hair that had fallen in front of her eyes,and then put his gloved hsnd on her cheek,his thumb that caressed her smooth skin with a feather touch like,slightly cleaning her face from a few drops of blood that dirtied iy.

"I killed...killed them!" she repeated with a loud voice,shocked and upset,starting to look incredulous the dead bodies lying on their back on the ground a few meters away from her and,throwing far away in a disgusted way the sword that was in her hands,she crashed quickly backwards,finding nothing but the cold stone of the wall.

The male Assassin got closer to her,and for the umpteenth time his heart stopped beating when she,turning around,leaned her melancholy and to say the least traumatized look on thr confused and worried one of him:hrr shiny and e/c eyes were soaked with sadness,and that usual light,which he loved so much to observe when she was happy,no longer shone,leaving room for a heavy veil that covered the view,annealing it,making appear her beautiful eyes dark,making it look like...empty,to say the least.

Copious tears began to fall from the corners of her eyes,slowly,almost lazily,rifling her cheeks.And she burst to tears,all while still maintaining the intense eye contact with Arno:her anguished,sad look that,desperately asking for help dig deep into the serious, worried,tired and sad of him.

And while he was intent on caressing her,as in the vain reason to remove the sadness imprinted in her face,he tried to raise a corner of his mouth in a light and almost invisible smile,trying and trying with all his heart to smile,wanting to make her understand that everything would be fine,and that him,now at that time,was there with her;wanting to make her feel protected,wanting to comfort her in every way he could.But despite all his efforts,he did not succeed in his intent,failing miserably:how could he even think of smiling at a time like that?How could he smile if she was crying so loudly?Simply,he could not.And his heart and soul cried too painfully in seeing Y/n suffer in a such brutal way.

And so,stretching both of his arms out,he wrapped them around her waist,pulling Y/n closer and closer to him,her shaky,cold and trembling form againts his muscular and warm one,her high sobs that were attenuated and muffled by his clothes.Her face was hidden in his chest,his chin resting on her head,gloved hands that caressed her hair,clutching hee to himself,almost wanting to melt with her,wanting to be able to make disappear all her fears,all her sadness,even if he had to sacrifice himself.

And he would have done it,without a doubt,without thinking twice,he would have sacrificed himself for her at any cost,no matter what and who.Y/n meant a lot to Arno,and he could not bear the idea that the beloved woman felt pain,or sadness.

Leaning over her ear,he left a chaste and single kiss on her cold cheek,his bearded face lightly scratching over her soft and smooth skin.

"Breathe,everything will be fine" his low,deep and soothing voice was just a barely audible whisper on that cold late winter evening,in that isolated,dark alley,while the snowflakes began to fall more and more numerous.

The imposing,old cathedral that overlooked and towered over the two Assassins like an imaginary giant,was watching and scrutinizing them silently,somewhat protecting them,making them invisible and secluded from the rest of the world,so that they could heal their open wounds,restore what caused pain and comfort each other's melancholy.

~~~

The only sound that was audible in his room,in that religious silence,was the slight crackling of the wood that,in the fireplace,began to burn.Kneeling in front of the fire,Arno lean into it and blew on the hot coals a few times to attract it,thus creating more fire.Once he was sure of the stability of the embers,he rose up again,cleaning his hands with a cloth that he found leaning against a chair next to the fire place.He was enchanted a few seconds to stare intensely at the tongues of the fire,which gradually embraced and burned the pieces of wood:its warm light gave a wonderful sparkle to the brown eyes of the Assassin,no longer covered with preccoupation and fear.

Suddenly a strong gust of cold wind,coming from the open doors that overlooked the balcony,reached him,making him shiver.So,walking silently to the balcony,he closed the two doors to lock,so as to prevent the strong wind to open them again.Remaining motionless in front of the glass doors,Arno began to make his gaze wander outside his room:a thick layer of snow covered the balustrade of the stone balcony,as well as covered all the roads,roofs of houses and all the buildings around him.

The whole Paris,at that moment,was as if it had been embraced by a cold,heavy white cloak,thus giving the city an elegant and pleasant appearance.The young Dorian could perceive an inhuman calm and a strange serenity in the peaceful atmosphere of that winter night.It was as if time stopped all of a sudden,excluding the snowflakes that,still,came down copious and slow from a dark sky.

Those snowflakes were as numerous as his thoughts which,almost endlessly,circulated in his mind,blurring it confusingly.Turning slowly,he wandered his tired gaze towards his bed: Y/n was lying on it,deeply sleeping under the warm blankets,appearing undisturbed by everything.From his lips came a long sigh:even though she was there with him at that moment,healthy and safe,Arno could not appease the feeling of worry and fear that were still present inside him;even though he had managed to find her,even though nothing had happened to her,even though everything had gone well,just as he had promised her,he could not become calm.

Even if he put all his heart into it,he could not stop the bad thoughts that clouded his mind and reason:what would have happened if he had found her dead?What would have happened if she had not been so quick?She would have died just as Èlise died before his eyes?He would have been left alone again?He would have lost,once again,a person dear to him?

Even though none of this happened,even though those thoughts were only exaggerations and worries,fears that his conscience created,he failed miserably.The experiences,those real nightmares that he had lived through not so long before,had improved him,but had also made him paranoid,anxious...fearful.He had to calm down,and he had absolutely no need to think about surreal,yet possible,tragedies.Yet...

Walking with slow and plush steps towards her,once he got close to the bed,he sat on the mattress at her side.He began to scrutinize her:her h/c hair was lightly scattered on the pillow on which her head rested;her face,which he himself had taken an interest in cleaning from the blood and dirt,appeared serene and quiet while she was asleep;her cheeks had regained their usual redness,her rosy lips were no longer purplish.She seemed almost as if she was...calm,as if nothing had happened.

Unlike Arno,who had conrastantial feelings and emotions within him:if on one hand he was relieved,soothed and happy,on the other hand he was still damned worried,afraid and anxious.He was struggling,he was torn.

Silently stretching his arm,the young Assassin placed his hand on her cheek,beginning to caress her gently,fearing to wake her up,scrutinized and observed her intensely,remembering how much she meant to him,thinking and being eternally grateful for how she changed his life,improving him,making him a better man,with new ideals,with different and changed ideas:eternally grateful that she was still there with him.If something bad,horrible had happened to her while he was not there to defend her and protect her,he would never have forgiven him.But at the same time...Y/n was there,before him,alive.

And all those negative emotions that weighed on his heart like a heavy boulder,disappeared altogether when,slowly opening her eyes,their gazes found themselves and chained one to the other.The Assassin waited,the heart that quickly palpitated as he saw again her e/c eyes shining with a weak light,loving and adoring the feeling of sinking and letting go of her intense gaze.

The corners of her mouth slowly rose into a ghost of a smile,when she recognized his familiar face.

"Arno" she whispered faintly,her low and melodic voice seemed like a medicine for the young Assassin.Keeping his hand on hee cheek, ontinuing to caress her even more,he got closer to her.

"Oui.I'm here" Arno replied with an equally low and quiet voice,returning her slight smile,eager to make her feel his presence.

Rising from the mattress,he quickly went to get a jug of fresh water that poured into a glass,which later gave the young woman.Once she drank the water,a religious silence fell between them,which was only interrupted by the crackling of the fire that still burned the pieces of wood and the stormy wind that blew through the small gaps between the doors.

"Thank you,Arno" she said in a high and gentle tone,infinite and boundless gratitude that made her eyes shine dimly,taking his big,warm hands and closing them around her small ones.But Y/n,from all of a sudden,stopped smiling,slightly frowning in a confused expression and just as worried.Arno understood that,once again on that interminable day,his eyes had betrayed him:perhaps he could deceive all the other people,but if he believed that he could mask his true emotions to the woman he loved and knew so well,he was just a fool and a deluded man.

Looking at her one last time in those two e/c orbs that he loved so much,but at the same time were full of confusion,he sighed heavily and then turned his gaze to the fireplace,in front of them.So,he felt the need to clarify everything that happened,feeling the need to explain himself.Arno knew very well that with his lover he could be himself,he knew very well that he could show her his true emotions,without fear and without having the feeling of appearing weak in her eyes.

"It was all planned,a novice this morning come to me and told me that we should have meet near your house,but when I arrived,you were not there.I ran here,trying to find you,but I didn't,and I understood everything" he begun with a low voice,his gaze fixed on the high tongues of fire that danced gently and slowly on the burning embers.Memories of a few hours earlier came back to mind, apturing him again in sadness and concern.

"He diverted me away,I had to be more perceptive, attentive" the Assassin finished explaining in a frantic voice,the evident and immense sense of guilt that hovered in his tone,making a small and almost invisible grimace with his mouth.

A religious silence suddenly fell between them,embracing them and surrounding them entirely,if it had not been for the continuous crackling of the burning wood and the strong wind blowing in that eternal,cold winter night.

"The Council will kick me out and take away my title of Assassin" the young woman noted,whispering in a coldly conscious tone that caused the tormented heart of the male Assassin to lose a beat.No.That would not have happened.It would never have happened.

"Why do you think that?" Arno asked in an alarmed tone,frowning,turning from all of a sudden on her side when he heard her say those words.Why ask a question, hen,if you already knew the answer?He did not need to hear or see what he already knew perfectly,but that question left his mouth almost instinctively.

"How can I pretend to be accepted,how can I pretend to be an Assassin if I can't kill a Templar?" she replied again,asking this more of herself than to him,settling more comfortably on the bed as she slightly lifted herself up,leaning her back againts the headboard,her voice was full of yearning awareness,and her shiny e/c eyes became watery from the tears that began to form.

And it was precisely for this reason that Arno ran so much that evening,it was for this reason that he unleashed his grievous and irascible wrath on the Assassin;it was for this reason that when he arrived near the cathedral of Notre Dame,he found her in a state of shock.It was precisely for that reason,it was because she could not kill that she looked at those guards that she had killed in a stunned and disgusted way.It was not that the young woman could not kill Templars,or simple guards who walked the streets of Paris:she could not kill any living soul,whether it would be a Templar or a simple thief.

Although she was very skillful,despite being gifted in all the techniques that Arno himself had taught her,she was not able,there was was not in her spirituality,there was was not in her nature to kill another person,even if it was an enemy.

Many times the Council had warned the young Dorian about this,about Y/n;many times they had asked him to improve her,and to make disappear in her what they stupidly called 'insecurity' and 'hesitation'.She was even often laughed at and judged by the other Assassins for this...which is also why that clever and mischievous novice had breaded all that.

"And the more time passes bye,the closer I am to think that I have failed all my purposes,all my goals.Before the brotherhood I had nothing,no one.Now,I have failed" Y/N continued,capturing Arno's silence as a tacit listening,keeping hee tone of voice low,melancholy and tiredness taking shape on her beautiful and pale face.

"If I have no purpose here in the brotherhood,how can I have another purpose outside of all this eternal war,Arno?" the young woman concluded, raising her tired gaze and chaining,uniting her own with that thoughtful one of him,who was scrutinizing her carefully and intensely:sadness,pain,didn't suit on her.He did not want the surrender he perceived in her voice,eyes and expression to take possession of her pure heart and gentle soul.

He would have done anything not to make her feel the same sadness and sense of uselessness that he had experienced,and felt,in previous years.So,moving and sitting more comfortably on the mattress,he came closer to her,so as to capture her attention.

"You have a purpose.Keeping me alive" Arno murmuring softly,speaking with his heart in his hand,and stretching one arm in her direction,he gently took her chin between two fingers and lifted her face until their two looks met for the umpteenth time.aand he would never get tired of observing how those two precious e/c stones could shine intensely with their own light,and he would also nevee get tired of sinking into their immense depths.

Y/n,however,appeared to be nothing short of astonished at his words:words she knew very well,she could perceive that they were truthfull,she was perfectly aware of Arno's past and all his old life,and countless times she heard the young Assassin thank her for all she had done for him.

"And I don't care if you can't kill,I don't care if you're an Assassin or not.Don't ever say and never think again that you failed,because that's not true," Dorian continued,rising his voice,a silent plea clearly audible in the last sentence he said;his thumb gently tracing her face,gestures and caresses made with a touch that could be compared to that of a feather,treating her as if she were a porcelain doll about to break.

"Me,like you,had nothing and no one,and all the people I cared about were taken away from me,but then I met you.You improved me,you helped to shape the man I am today" Arno said with a strong,glad and also proud tone,warm and brown eyes that reflected the sadness that shaped his life.And those words,said in such a true,humble and honest way,moved Y/n.She was,after all,the only person who encouraged him when others discouraged him,the only friend who believed in him when others did not give him hope,the only woman who could always comfort him.

"And in this you have not failed.I owe much of this to you.And if something bad ever happens to you just because others push you to do things that go against your will,I would never forgive myself.I was and still am in love with you for what you are,not for what you are not" the Assassin declared with a soft and clear voice,slightly tilting his head to the side, loving the feeling of her leaning into his palm,continuing to touch her face,while she closed her eyes almost as if she was being lulled by his velvet touch.Finding comfort,peace within herself in his presence,in hearing his low,deep voice.

"You have a purpose...being with me,by my side,never think of abandoning.Never think of abandoning me" Arno pleaded with shiny eyes,almost as if he were praying to her,almost as if he wanted to make her promise that despite everything and everyone,she would never abandon him because,as he encouraged her,she cured his shortcomings,thus completing each other.

Y/n did not feel her heart beating for a few seconds,which seemed to her eternally infinite,while he finished speaking,the silence that once again reigned supreme among them.She did not know what to say,what to do and how to act to all that he had confessed to her.She was breathless and even without words.

They were sitting in front of each other,exchanging long and intense glances that spoke more than a thousand words,digging deeply into each other's eyes,as if to try to find that thing,that one pure emotion that united them:a tear,a smile,love.

A kiss.

"Every moment I have spent by your side has made my life worth living"

She was the only woman to whom he would always be devoted and grateful to;Y/n was the only and one the woman hhe loved,who he would always love,unconditionally and infinitely,for eternity;and he was the only man she would adore,love and admire,forever.

~~~

Translations:

*Bonsoir à toi=Good evening to you;

*Monsieur=Sir;

*Dis moi où elle est= Tell me where she is;

*Fils de pute= Son of a bitch.

*Raison d'être= a reason for existence (the most important reason or purpose for someone or something's existence)

#Arno Dorian #arno dorian x reader #assassin's creed unity #unity #assassin's creed #x reader #one shot #imagine #angst #my writing

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bl4cklabyrinth · 4 years

Text

ROCKIN’ON JAPAN December 2018 Interview Translation: Hiro talks about S･S･S

Disclaimer: Please do not retranslate my work into other languages, as my translation may not be accurate. I am no Japanese or English native.

The biggest thank you to Anna for helping me get the magazine clippings!

Photo from here.

The band has overcome its limits, and has given life to the masterpiece “S･S･S”

A solo interview with Hiro, where he shares his thoughts on finally getting to where he is now!

The rock band MY FIRST STORY has finally reached its full potential and came out with a simply amazing album.

Hiro has been making declarations for quite some time now – his thoughts towards his family, the meaning of his life, and the meaning behind his songs. At times they’ve been fired as a clear declaration of war and at other times as words of encouragement, but the truth is, until their last album “ANTITHESE”, those declarations naturally became a melody, a lyric, a song, against which MFS has always struggled alone.

However, this album is different. This album is solely dedicated to music. It’s just rock. It’s purely loud and piercingly melodious.

High quality, open, and very poppy music is being sought after. This is, so to speak, practically the first album they’ve made in which Hiro’s talent as a musician bloomed upward beautifully. It’s been 7 years since their debut, and it’s incredible how they were able to make it this far to get a chance at performing for 2 days at Yokohama Arena.

MFS and Hiro’s journey is finally approaching its quintessence from hereon. I talked at length with Hiro, who had made a breakthrough.

- How’s the band doing?

Hiro: It’s been pretty good. For better or for worse, we haven’t been aggressive since Budokan. I think we’ve been able to maintain our pace without spiralling out of control.

- Would it be safe to assume that that vibe was reflected in this album?

Hiro: Actually, I think this is the album that came out the best. On the flipside, it felt like everyone was just completely following my lead for our last album “ANTITHESE” (laughs). While continuing the course of the previous album, it was through our egos then and our desire to “take it easy”, “ do things freely”, and “try out all sorts of things” that this album came about.

- “ANTITHESE” was made in such a way that it just drilled you down, drove you into a corner, and squeezed you dry. Was the process completely different this time?

Hiro: About 3 or 4 songs on this album have been around since we made “ANTITHESE”. The songs “M.A.D” and “REMEMBER” are two of those, and more came about when I discussed how I wanted to make more songs like them with the members. “ANTITHESE” came together nicely, and I thought it would be nice if we could develop it further with these two songs.

- So there was no talk of putting those two songs on “ANTITHESE”, huh.

Hiro: In my mind, those 14 songs are the full maximum, no more or less than that. I didn’t want to put anything extra. But I thought, “The songs are cool, I wanna release them. Maybe in the next album.”

- I see. Did you already have some sort of vision as to what you wanted the album to be like from that stage?

Hiro: I did. “ANTITHESE” is like a boy while this one’s like a young man, as if it got a bit more mature. There are a lot of minor details that went into it like chord progressions, riffs, melodies, and rhythms, but we made it wanting to convey a sense of indirectness or something like, “Ah, this is pretty cool” when listened to.

- That sounds great. It’s like an upgraded version of the band, like “MY FIRST STORY 2.0”.

Hiro: That’s right (laughs).

- I suppose you could make another album like “ANTITHESE”, but to return to that point in your life...?

Hiro: That’s pretty tough (laughs). Once you’ve spit it all out once, the things you want to say the second time around will definitely be different. I can’t make another album like that.

- I believe you struggled in order to put out the album “ANTITHESE”, but after doing so, did you feel something like, “I’ve wrung out everything I wanted to say, what do I do now?”

Hiro: I did, I did. Personality-wise, I can’t keep writing lyrics that only convey “hope”. There are a lot of other artists who can do just that and make it resonate with everyone, so when we realized that that wasn’t what we should be doing, we thought we had to write ourselves realistically the way we are now. It’s easier to get a bird’s eye view of the song’s world rather than the lyrics’, so I would say, “We made a song like this last time, let’s try to make it more stylish by adding a tension chord,” or have an idea in my head like, “We did this last time, maybe we should do this next time”. I honestly thought it’d be boring if we only put out songs like “ALONE” or “Fukagyaku”, and the songs themselves aren’t gonna die out anyway, so “ACCIDENT” was born. Sometimes it’s harder to figure out how to flesh things out from there (laughs).

- In terms of lyrics, what kind of changes have taken place since the end of “ANTITHESE” up to this point in time?

Hiro: Probably up until around “ALONE” and “ANTITHESE”, the lyrics had only been about me. But as you would expect, there isn’t much more to say (laughs). I’m not all hate. The lyrics I envision or write are of my ideal person. So it doesn’t mean that I live my life that way every day – of course I’ve betrayed myself countless times, and I’ve lied to myself as well, but you can’t see that part of me from the outside. Those who receive it as a song lyric always think that that’s all there is to it. Humans aren’t that strong – there are days when your mind is on the edge, and there are days when you feel like you’re not your usual self. Rather, I think it’s during times like that when people can relate to the lyrics. When I started writing with that in mind, I was surprised at how much I could write. I was so adamant about needing to write in that tone of voice, but I was able to remove that part of me after doing Budokan which made things a lot easier.

- The more you listen to it, the more you realize that the lyrics are very personal. You also feel a sense of living that you’ve never felt before.

Hiro: Yes. It’s important to show different sides of myself, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to write more in the future. I also look forward to what kinds of reactions I’ll get when I put out such things. It’s like, I didn’t cook anything super elaborate, I just tried making something out of what I had in the fridge. But I’ve been doing this for 7 years now, so I think I can make a pretty decent meal with what’s stocked in the refrigerator (laughs). You can do a lot of things with the nuance “as long as the dish is good”. I think that’s how the album came to be, in a good way.

- I think that’s a great change. For the longest time you’ve been setting up some sort of hurdle that goes, “How many people truly understand what I’m feeling here?” but that was taken away and now it’s just like, “If you like music, give it a listen”.

Hiro: That’s true. In a sense, I’ve finished what I wanted to do, so I thought I’d take a more casual approach to MY FIRST STORY. I’m now able to challenge all sorts of things I wasn’t able to do in the past. Conversely, I think the 5 years after Budokan will be even more difficult.

- In the days leading up to Budokan, MFS as well as Hiro were looking for a way to end things, or even a way of life in which things would personally end in the most beautiful way possible.

Hiro: Right. It’s still the same now, it’s never ending, but I definitely don’t want to continue doing this on an emotional level. So far, we’ve made it clear that we’re aiming for Tokyo Dome. I think it’d be tough for the people watching over us to support us if they didn’t know what we want to do, what we’re trying to achieve or what our goal is. We can’t keep running in the dark with no goal in sight, but we have to keep running regardless. By putting what lies ahead of me into words, I feel like it solidifies the path I should be taking. When we started the band, our goal was Budokan, but after finishing that, it became Tokyo Dome. This time, I wonder what will happen next after Tokyo Dome is over. Only then will we know what the future holds, but right now, I think Tokyo Dome will be the end of the road for MFS 2.0.

- Then after that, you might find something new again, or you might think, “It’s over”. You never really know, huh.

Hiro: Yeah. It’s like a plot with a clear introduction, development, twist, and conclusion. We’re called MY FIRST STORY after all, so if we don’t convince ourselves that we’re in a story with a beginning and end, we won’t be able to continue running ahead. I’m the type of person who can’t pull through unless I set a goal to run for 1 hour or 10 km. Because we decide on a location to aim towards, in a sense, we become able to keep moving forward.

- I see. That’s a good mode to be in.

Hiro: That’s right. It would be tough if I kept the same pace as I did moving towards Budokan (laughs). And even if I did go at the same pace, I don’t know if I’d be able to make it. If I thought about it all the way through until we got there, everyone else would be thinking about it too, so I thought it’d be better to stop fussing over it for a while. I’ve thought about it enough. So for now, at our own pace, we’re focusing on working with what we can sensibly come up with, what would be good for us to do, and what we’re capable of doing now. I believe it’s for the best.

- I really admire how Hiro, who was searching for his final destination, is now singing about wanting to continue on with MY FIRST STORY.

Hiro: Yeah. I as well as the members are excited for what lies ahead, not having to be bound to a certain rock band image or genre. Of course, the members and I definitely have our pride and things we want to maintain, but none of us have a “must do this” mentality. Because of this, I think there’ll be more opportunities to try things out in the future. With the addition of Kid’z, we’ve moved past Budokan, and I’m sure there’ll be even more in store from now on. The members have been getting along really well lately. We’ve been hanging out a lot, and when I taught them how to play poker, they all got hooked and played together until morning (laughs).

- For real? (laughs)

Hiro: When you spend time together outside band activities, your perceived values become the same, and the things that come out of that will be more different than how they’ve always been in the past. I think the ideas we’ve been putting out and reconciling with each other up to now are becoming more and more whole. If you don’t experience or feel the same things on a regular basis, you won’t be able to create much. I think we blend together really well right now, so I’m looking forward to the future.

- The first thing I noticed this time was your voice. The way you sang and the variations in your singing voice were really well done. It’s like, “There’s this drawer, and this drawer, and if you’d like, there’s this ceiling”. It kind of felt like that way of singing was finally unleashed.

Hiro: Really? Thank you. For me, it didn’t feel that way this time at all, I felt it more so when I made “ANTITHESE”. But just like the “even if you overthink things, there’s nothing much you can do” thing I mentioned earlier, if you think too much about it and then try to sing, that’s when you surprisingly become unable to sing. So now, instead of trying to sing without letting the pressure get to my head, I focus more on casually internalizing what I would think if I were the listener. Mainly thinking, “If I add a little touch here, would it sound weird,” or “I wonder if it isn’t bad”, I would’ve sung it rather quickly so I wouldn’t think too much about it.

- So it would be like you were just singing along to the music?

Hiro: Yeah. As if that’s just the way I wanted it to be.

- I’m sure there were a lot of variations in terms of music, so inevitably I’d assume there were variations in the songs as well.

Hiro: Ahh, I really wanted to make an album that wasn’t straightforward. Of course there are straightforward songs as well, but I wanted to throw in a few curve balls there too. Curves, sliders, forks, knuckles, all sorts of things were thrown together to make it work, and specifically having that in mind made things easy to understand when we were putting the songs in. It’s like, “No matter how you look at it, it’s this kind of song. Well then, let’s sing it that way”. It was easy to grasp for me as a listener and as a singer.

- If you listen to this album objectively, what do you think about your vocals?

Hiro: I’d tell myself, “You had a lot in mind when you were recording, huh.” However, I can definitely sing without an issue this time around, so I feel totally fine listening to myself now. I’m really jealous of people who can shake it off and say, “This is who I am”, because I can’t. But I was thinking, if I could push myself hard enough to be able to sing like that one day, I’d feel much better, or perhaps something new will be born within me from there. This album allowed me to experience that. Rather than having me in the song, it’s something I created, something I can present as a part of myself. This album shows the breadth of my own evolution and what lies ahead. It goes the same way for MFS as a whole, too. That’s why I’m really glad we tried making an album like this.

- You’d want to say, “It’s a masterpiece!” but I feel like it’s more so “There’s gonna be more masterpieces from now on”.

Hiro: That’s right. It’s like the meat in a course meal. And then it’s gonna be like, “We’re serving pasta after this,” “Eh, seriously!?” (laughs)

- Even the band members are playing very freely, huh.

Hiro: Yes. This time, I wasn’t present for the members’ recording sessions at all. They’d call me and ask, “What do we do here?” and I’d answer, “Eh? Anything goes” (laughs). Of course I knew the dates, but I wouldn’t go even if I was free (laughs). There’s nothing for me to do there even if I went, and we all have our own things we want to pursue and things we want to do with the songs. I didn’t think it was right for me to say how things should be done. Even my parts aren’t perfect, and I wouldn’t know what to say to the member in question if I wasn’t sure whether the part they worked on was done correctly or not, and I feel like telling them what to do would take out all the fun. Realizing that it’s better for me to listen objectively to a piece of work created through everyone’s efforts was a huge help. On top of that, I’m able to do the things I want to do – it’s already an ideal situation (laughs). I don’t care what they do, as long as they don’t commit a crime (laughs).

- Amazing. I never thought the day would come that I’d hear those words from you (laughs).

Hiro: Hahahaha, it’s true. We didn’t start out as friends. We just considered each other as fellow members when we started the band, always keeping one another in check with a great deal of care and a little bit of stress. However, even if Budokan was for me and for everyone listening, it was the members who understood me the best. From that point on, we didn’t really mind each other’s businesses anymore, and it became like, “Why don’t we just say what we want to say to each other, we’ve come this far after all?” They know their parts, and they know themselves better than anyone else, so there isn’t a whole lot to complain about anymore. Even if one of us would make a mistake at a show, we wouldn’t say, “Play it right” or anything like that anymore. They know what they’re doing, and they know that there’s nothing else to respond to such a comment other than “I’m sorry”. If doing so would immediately change things then go for it, but if they continue on without changing then just tell them off. They’re not the kind of dudes who don’t do anything, and on the contrary, it is me who gets his ass kicked more often than not, so I don’t really have anything to say to that. That’s about as good as it’s gonna get.

- That’s great. You’ve finally come this far, huh.

Hiro: Yeah. I’ve been feeling like I’ve gone rather far lately (laughs).

- Is it because you made this album?

Hiro: I think it’s more because we were able to appreciate each other more, or realize, “It’s okay to do this now”. As for the album, it was a piece of work that made me feel like I could see the future in more ways than one.

- Up until now, the band’s primary identity had been what Hiro squeezes out and screams about. In that case, it’s not so much about how you want people to hear you play, but more so about how you can bring your cries and messages forward.

Hiro: That’s a pretty hard task for the other members to do. But all of that is over. If that had been the case until now, I would have never said, “The members can do whatever they want” and this album would have never been released. Back then, I’d go, “Let’s do it like this here,” “The last chorus definitely goes after the bridge,” but it hasn’t been like that these days. Now we’d go ahead and say, “This is good,” “Interesting, interesting”. It’s like the kids who always had to ask permission from their mom have disappeared.

- “Young man” is a great metaphor in that sense as well (laughs).

Hiro: Mhm. It’s just like disciplining a child – just because you did it before doesn’t mean you’ll grow up that way, and saying too much isn’t a good thing either. We are all different people after all, and whether we’re lovers or family, we can’t understand each other 100% of the time, so we have to accept and trust each other more. I don’t really like it when people grow apart because of work. I want to make a team like the one in “Wild Speed”. We all get along really well, getting together in a garden to have a barbecue and stuff like that. It’s partly because we have such a good sense of team spirit that we’re able to do things indie. I wouldn’t be able to continue on unless I had a team with the same ambitions and the same passion to move forward. Seeing a lot of adults being considerate of me makes me feel better about myself (laughs). The members are the ones who understand “Let’s take it easy” the most. This may seem natural, but it’s super hard to do. And now that I’m able to do so, it feels great.

- You’ve truly made an incredible rock album. And it’s good that your methods can effectively be used to make more in the future.

Hiro: In fact, it’s been going so smoothly that it has become the focal point of our work process, so I don’t think it was difficult for anyone. Scheduling was pretty tough though. In August, I was singing at shows and recordings for 15 days in a row or something like that. Some of the songs didn’t have melodies or lyrics yet, and I was thinking, “Seriously, what are we gonna do!” but we had the same situation when we were making “ANTITHESE”, so I was like, “If you have the time to say ‘Oh no’ or ‘We’ll never finish’, then use that time to continue working instead” (laughs). Because of this, I’ve learned to believe in myself. The members were on a super tight schedule as well, but they would respond to requests from me like, “I want to change the first verse” or “Sorry, take it down a half-step”, so I was confident that everything was going to be okay. We may be in a hurry, but I no longer get worried or anxious.

- There were a lot of songs that used the words “white” and “black” this time. However, rather than black and white symbolizing “win or lose”, it was more of “There’s a part of me that’s pure white, and a part of me that’s pitch black”, providing a perspective that allows us to see both sides of you in the same light.

Hiro: That’s true. “ANTITHESE” was always about me, but that was completely overturned this time, now having different main characters for each song. Then, I wrote the lyrics, sang the songs, so there are many different stories of me in this album. Sometimes they’re of a similar hue, but still slightly different in shade. Of course, I didn’t write about colors that I didn’t have at all, so I was able to recreate the colors in my mind, or rather, sublimate them in the form of music.

- It’s like, “Sometimes it’s white, sometimes it’s black. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t. But that’s just the way things are, right?”

Hiro: Yep. With this one album, we’re no longer limited to, “This is what I say in this song, so I have to keep saying this”. It’s like, “That isn’t always the case, you know. I’m only human” (laughs). Like, “Sometimes I feel that way, sometimes I don’t”. It doesn’t matter if they’re on the same album. I was able to reach that point in my life, so now I have a wide range to work with.

- That’s why Hiro’s melody-making skills are being opened up to the fullest.

Hiro: This time, I mostly worked upwards from the chorus. After breaking apart the original chorus, I’d go, “This one’s catchier”. I didn’t even stick to the general concept of the melody – I’d try to make one, but if I wasn’t 100% sold on it, I’d try to make 10 more, and then I’d go with what everyone said was good. The premise behind a melody is that it’s something you can hum along to when you suddenly hear it, so I didn’t want to change my approach of starting songs from there. Nowadays, people don’t say, “This song is good”. They say, “These lyrics are good”. Because of this, I want to create a catchy melody that’s easy to remember, one with a rebellious spirit, and at the moment, I think it’d be good if it were in Japanese. That being said, I want everyone to be able to say, “This melody is good”.

- I think it’s a really well-made album. I thought that the Hiro who’s been shouting out what’s inside his heart has made it this far (laughs).

Hiro: On the contrary, it’s exactly how I imagined it to be from the moment we started the band up to this point in time. Our pace and work are progressing as well with a margin of error of about 0.5 mm. Thing is, we’re gonna start with a completely clean slate from here on out, so we’re in a bit of a hurry (laughs). We’re kind of in a standstill right now, but if you’re asking me how I feel about the members or the music, I’d say, “Well, it’ll be okay”. From this point forward, I think we’re just gonna have to put ourselves out there. To be honest, we aren’t really sure ourselves either (laughs), but from now on, it’s not gonna be a story that was created – it’s gonna be a story that we create while walking forward.

#my first story #マイファス #print #2018 #yay #first full-length magazine interview translation #pats self on the back #am I ready to translate the Antithese interview though #oof #Hiro

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