#is that coming from my own family.. it's just. you already put 43 conditions before the 'i love you' (that you don't ever say but anyway) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shepard-ram · 3 years

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Antidote for the Lovesick [Antarctic Empire!Wilbur x Reader]

(Fluff, Not a request: Another one inspired by light anons asks- anyways I'm planning on working on my requests again after this. School will be out for the year soon so I will be writing more in a few weeks!)

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While the Royal family was well known by default, (and fairly well liked as far as monarchies go) none were as popular as the prince second in line for the throne. It seemed he made for the public eye, able to talk himself out of any situation. With the handful of poems and songs that made it to the people rumors and half-jokes that he must be part siren stired around him. There's no doubt that even without his crown he would have made himself an adored public figure.

It doesn't take much thought to see why prince Wilbur was a star in the empire's negotiations. The Emperor himself was a close second but he was often more fussed about internal affairs. The crown prince was intimidating and a genius when it came to battle, but all that confidence melted when it came to social interactions. Meanwhile the youngest prince... let's just say he hadn't developed the filter needed for the job.

So the poet prince sat at the table and charmed his way into countless treaties and alliances. Needless to say he got very friendly with many rulers and ambassadors alike. The more connections the better after all, but it was only a matter of time before the wrong person got a little too attached.

It was a simple meeting with some local nobles, and one enchantress. It could be It's own story. One starting with the prince's usual banter and a crush forming in its wake, but ending in a turned down confession and alot of shouting. By the time he retired to his bed a soon to be revealed curse was taking its hold.

That morning was filled with emotions and panic. At first he wanted to believe it was nothing more than a sore throat. However the more he tried to make any sound the more he was forced to accept what had happened. His voice was turned to a screech akin to a horse being stabbed. He desperately attempted to sing, only producing a sound that sounded as painful was it was to make. He wasn't just silenced, his voice was replaced with the one of dying demons.

His younger brother was the first he ran into. At first the youngest laughed, after all it was one hell of a noise, but he soon realized just how shaken the poet was. From there it was very quick, how the news spread to the rest of the family. The youngest still didn't stop trying to make fun of his brothers situation. But soon the royal doctors where at his bed chambers with whatever potions and medicines that they thought could ease the affliction.

As soon as they came they left without the barest hint of success. As much as the winged Emperor would've preferred to keep this a private matter it was clear they needed as much talent as possible. They needed more ideas and the skills to make a cure to the curse. So an invention spread to every city and almost every town. It was a simple one, explaining the princes condition and offering a hefty reward to anyone who could put an end to it.

This little piece of paper changed your life.

You were a rather young alchemist, specializing in all remedies natural and magical. The money stood out to you more than most. You weren't starving by any means, but no one in your little rural home town was exactly rolling in cash. Before you knew it you were packing up your things and getting the final "good bye"s and "good luck"s from your family and friends as you set off to the capital.

You weren't the first one to try, not at all. In fact you were one of last with the confidence to try. The thing is, you didn't have the herbs you planned to use.

"Why wouldn't you have them ready?!" You understood why the crown prince was on edge, things were looking more and more hopeless with each attempt. You stayed calm and explained it The best you could.

"The plants I need can be very precise with the conditions they need to grow in, and are often conned on the market. I trust my own abilities more than a salesman looking to make a quick buck." You knew your words reached the trio listening to the pitch, so you made your request. "All I need is the space to grow them and time, they'll take about two months at most. Maybe the royal garden?"

They shared a glance, but it seemed they already had the answer decided.

"How much space do you need?"

You quickly got to work, preparing the soil for the medicine and writing down some notes about the exact qualities of the future remedy. By sunset you were tidying up the servants quarters they had provided so you can stay close the growing ingredients.

On one of your first evenings you were tending to the young plants. That was until you heard a heavenly sound drifting from the other side of the garden. At first you just enjoyed the background music while finishing up your current occupation. As soon as you could you put your watering can down you stood up, very eager to track down the source of the wordless lullaby.

It was a painting, the clouds of bushes more than tall enough to hide the silent signer sitting in the middle of them. The grass while not gone completely was worn out, a clear sign the prince sat in the almost enclosed ring often. You stood in the opening of a leafy doorway. Watching in awe as he played a guitar, eye's closed with so much ease you'd believe it was creating the music by itself.

Eventually the music faded, and in a kick of humor you clapped. Startled he jumped to his feet, calming down a little when he saw that you didn't look at all hostile.

"Sorry for the surprise, my prince." You marked with a small bow. You didn't miss the little uncomfortable look that flashed across his face. "But I couldn't help but notice your song, it's absolutely amazing." You offered with a light voice. "I- I get the rumors now." You could tell you caught his interest with that. "Can you play some more for me, these plants grow faster and better with the company of music."

Rather or not that's just a myth you weren't entirely sure, but with a small smile he honored the request. He followed you out of his little hedge room and closer the area you were tending to. Sitting on a nearby bench watching you work on the newest attempt to reclaim his unnatural voice.

"How about I get to know my patient a little?" The music hiccuped in its players curiosity, silently prompting you to continue. "I ask you some questions, yes or no ones. It might be helpful when it comes to fine-tuning this" you gestured to the dirt that would soon be covered with fully grown medicinal plants. In return he gave his first answer, a nod.

Over the days you grew fond of the routine you fell into. Sometimes you would be asking questions, looking up from the garden to catch his answer. Sometimes you would be telling him stories from your home, about the many people who have come to you for remedies. Sometimes there would be no words, just the gorgeous calming sounds of his music. You could both feel how comfortable this was.

"Would you prefer if I called you only Wilbur?"

A happy nod.

Only Wilbur was very different from prince Wilbur. You've always thought of the prince as this fox, prideful and cunning and charming in untrustworthy ways. But only Wilbur wasn't on this higher devine level, he was a person. A person with passions and vulnerabilities. Only Wilbur melted ideas about himself you didn't even realize you harbored. You liked only Wilbur, that was certain.

You made a promise to both yourself and to him that day. You would lift the curse, you had to.

It had been 43 days, the herbs were ready. "Maybe music did make them grow faster" you entertained. It was the only day you were with the plants without Wilbur. He was in his bed chambers so you could focus on brewing.

You looked over your notes thousands of time over. When you took this job you knew it was going to be one of your most important ever, but now you weren't just curing a prince- you were curing a friend. You paused in setting up your equipment. The term friend felt, incorrect with how exactly you felt about Wilbur. You shoved down the thoughts and continued, now was not the time.

Was it hours, or was it a few minutes? You couldn't tell and you didn't care. In a glass bottle you held the product of your labor. Corked and wrapped in many clothes before being nestled in your bag just to be safe. You took a deep breath and set off for Wilburs room.

He hesitated taking the bottle from you, like he had grown attached to his own silence. When he did take the potion it was all still slow and methodical. As if taking the cork off wrong could ruin everything. It felt like your entire body was on stand-by, paused as he downed the entire container. With a small drink of water he waited for a minute.

Then with a little nod from you, he hummed. The simple notes never sounded so rich and deep, filled with over a month of built up thoughts and emotions. Two faces lit up hearing it.

"You- you really did it." Wilbur was so quiet. As if speaking too loudly could break the newly repaired sound.

Then laughter, and the rambling of words that didn't need to make sense. Because you could hear them.

Then a hug, one of so much more than gratitude. One accompanied with an over abundance of "Thank you"s.

"How could I ever make this up to you" He only now slowed down, only enough to take your input.

Looking over at a familiar instrument you gave that input to him, "Can you play some more for me, my prince." He chuckled, a sound that you already loved as he sat back down on the bed with his guitar.

You recognized the song. It backdroped your first siting of him. Only now did you finally hear it in its entirety. It was a love song. Lyrics sweet and sincere and raw all rolled up by the accompanying strumming. When the last cord drifted off he looked at you, eagerly awaiting your response.

"If I understood the rumors then, now I just might be a believer." How much of that was exaggeration, you honestly couldn't say.

"I'm assuming that's good."

"Trust me, it's more than good." Watching as put the instrument back. "You should probably go tell the others the good news. Especially so I can get my money" you added jokingly. With that you got one last hug and thank you before you both left the room.

As you were walking back to your room something hit you. The realization that this was over. You were going to your temporary room and packing up so you could leave. You never expected to bond with the prince this much, and in the moment you regretted it. If only a little. You swallowed the sudden mood shift and started packing.

"Hey where are you going!?" An already familiar excited voice rang out, running towards you.

"I'm getting ready to leave." You said, bluntly.

"Wait, really?" As if he didn't know you weren't moving in permanently. Without thinking he grabbed your arm like you trying to run away. "We're having a big feast tonight, to celebrate your achievement. You should probably be there."

"That sounds great." You could feel the wave of sadness fade off.

"I thought I always sound great." You chuckled.

"I really wish I could deny that."

"No you don't."

"Only because I wouldn't get my money if I could."

"Come on, that's not the only reason."

"Like it's any secret I care about you."

That put an end to his humor, "Here, let's get ready."

#shepard ram writes #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x you #dream smp x reader #c: wilbur #dsmp x reader #dsmp x y/n #dsmp x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur x y/n #wilbur x you

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anika-ann · 3 years

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WINSoD - Pt.4

What You Need (Is What I’m About)

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, one more ;) Word count: 3400

Summary: In which fate has a strange sense of humour, the Maximoffs appear and... well.

Warnings: brief violence, mention of death, messing around in one’s brain, language, cutesy and fluff (yep, it’s all there)

Part 3

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You watched the kettle quiver as the temperature of the water climbed towards the boiling point. You’d like to say your blood was reaching it too, but despite the warm hoodie (Steve’s, naturally), you were feeling coldness seeping into your very core.

You hated waiting for him. You had never been a fan of it, sitting on your ass and stressing until he returned from a mission, bruised and usually bloody, but this time it was something else. This time, you had more than just a vague idea of what he was fighting; you had witnessed it first-hand. An army of fucking robots.

The team had left 43 hours ago, but who the hell was counting, right? Certainly not you. And you had certainly not been feeling the urge to ask Jarvis (R.I.P., my beloved A.I.) like every half an hour for any updates. You weren’t that desperate. You weren’t that scared-

Yeah, not even you were having your bullshit anymore.

You were shivering in cold from losing sleep, terrified and over all out of your mind. Nothing helped to ease your worries. Definitely not the fact they hadn’t made any contact ever since they had left.

They consisted of the usual Avengers team; Nat, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Thor, plus Bucky. All of them under Steve’s attentive command.

Surprisingly, Matt Murdock – also known as a freaking vigilante (a blind lawyer!!) – did not join the quest. He had said that robots were way outside his territory. You would beg to differ, because he punched the robot like a champ, yet you didn’t quite blame him for refusing. Bottomline, you still thought he was pretty swell (not to mention easy on the eyes, but that was beside the point). He had saved your life though, so you might be a bit biased. A lot biased.

Sam Wilson might have fought once too, but he would sit this one out as well. It was not helping your anxiety.

The soft click of the kettle brought you back to reality and you grabbed the handle to pour water into your mug, only to see you failed to actually put a teabag in it.

To be fair, you would have sworn you had done it, but that was just another prove of you losing your mind. At this rate you were about to burn the kitchen down – not that you felt like cooking… or eating for that matter. Steve was out there, in his own sci-fi movie that had somehow become reality and-

You sighed and set the kettle down, reaching for the box with chamomile tea. Taking one bag, you felt a strange gust of wind and curled into the hoodie as a shiver ran down your spine. Was the air-conditioning misbehaving…? Perhaps it was an aftermath of what they called the Ultron mess-

You shook your head, scolding yourself for getting paranoid and went to finally finish the simplest task of making yourself tea.

Only for your blood turning to ice when you noticed the teabag was missing. You had just put it there half a minute ago, you were sure of it. Your heart started hammering in your chest as you spun on your heels, your eyes scanning the room.

The cupboard behind your head clacked and your head swiftly snapped back to it. Feeling your own pulse pounding in your temples, you forced your brain to come up with a rational explanation.

You were losing your mind, you were imagining things, you hadn’t slept in almost two days, your mind was playing tricks on you-

Another gust of wind and the kettle disappeared from your hands, a shriek escaping your lips. On instinct, you opened the drawer and pulled out a knife. You were probably useless with it, basically offering it the potential attacker as a weapon, because they would be able to disarm you and use it to their advantage, but you didn’t give a shit. You felt better being armed.

What the fuck was happening?!

A man suddenly appeared by your left hip, like a hurricane inside of the room, and your body acted on its own, driving the knife in his side.

Or you attempted to; the knife met something solid that could not have been a body and the blond – he was a blond man, younger, hell, looking younger than you, dressed in a jumpsuit – stared at you with his mouth hanging open.

It was only then when you registered a strange red matter--- no, something unsubstantial, like an energy, swirling and changing, hovering around the blade that had stopped an inch from the man’s torso.

“Taka se ubivate, kolibri,” a female voice sounded from the other side of the room, nearly sending you into a cardiac arrest.

Yet, you couldn’t tear you gaze away from the strange man, whose face was now twisted in annoyed grimace as the woman seemed to be scolding him.

What kind of a language was that anyway?

Really not relevant.

There were two strangers in the Tower, in the very same room as you, they could be talking about how to kill you the most painful way and you wouldn’t even know, and for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t you catch a break-

“Ne ti e zabavno, foĭerverk,” he hummed back, his lips spreading in a smile, baffling you to no end. “Zdraveĭ, krasavitse.”

Your hand still on the handle of the knife that was no longer under your control, of which you refused to let go though because you were not a complete idiot, you had no idea what to do.

The man sounded almost friendly, but then again, villains often did. Sleazy. You would know.

A tremble ran through your body and out of nowhere, you made a lightning-fast decision of kicking the man in the crotch.

Your knee only brushed his manhood when your leg was no longer yours. With horror filling every cell in your body, you realized it was caught in the freaky red spiderweb of energy and you couldn’t move it no matter how much you tried.

Tears filled your eyes and suddenly you were free, the man several feet from you. A gorgeous young woman, dressed even more strangely than him – crimson leather jacket, black and half-torn leather leggings with high boots with way too many straps, her outfit completed by sleeves peeking from under her jacket –, stood next to him, cuffing him in the back of his head.

“Idiot!” she hissed and in the back of your mind, the one tiny corner that was not occupied with the fact you might die in the next second, you thanked god for some words being international.

Then, the girl with long wild red hair smiled at you apologetically, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Hello. Sorry for startling you,” she spoke with thick accent which you identified as Eastern-European and shot her companion a murderous look. “My brother is an ass and doesn’t know the difference between being funny and scaring people.”

She didn’t sound menacing at all; in fact, you saw every responsible older sibling annoyed at their younger family member in her. You blinked away the sting in your eyes and attempted to focus despite the ringing in your ears.

“Huh?” slipped from your lips intelligently, utter confusion gradually replacing your despair.

The blond rolled his eyes, which only earned him another clip round his ear.

“See what you’ve done? This is all your fault!”

“I was just messing around!”

“Do you have any idea what she’s been through? You scared her to death!” the woman hissed, effectively sending you back to the spiral of dismay, your slowly calming heartbeat skyrocketing again.

What did she know about what you had been through?!

With your knees wobbly and not to be trusted to keep you upright on their own anymore, you gripped the counter behind you with such force your muscles cramped.

“Who- who are you?” you breathed out shakily, catching the attention of the supposed sibling duo once more.

The woman smiled warmly, patronizingly almost.

“My name is Wanda and this is my brother, Pietro. We are of Sokovia. Your Captain and the other Avengers found us, showing us that we were fighting on the wrong side of things. Would you like to see?”

Her words echoed in your suddenly dull skull, the meaning escaping you.

And because her last sentence was what made sense the most and yet the least, you nodded.

Later, you would realize just how stupid and trusting you had been when agreeing, mostly because Steve gave you his look of disappointment and horror, but at the moment, it seemed right.

Somehow, on a level you couldn’t quite comprehend, you already understood they weren’t a threat to you.

“See how?”

Wanda smiled.

*Like this,* a ghost of her voice sounded somewhere deep in your mind, making you dizzy. What the hell-? *Please, don’t judge me. I thought I was doing the right thing.*

Before you could question such statement or the fact her lips were not moving while you heard her voice crystal clear, you were thrown into a vortex.

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Ultron had been sure they were coming; he left a bait for them, an easy track to follow. The track they could follow towards their end.

Wanda wasn’t one to enjoy killing or hurting people in general, no. She hadn’t even considered herself a strong person once, but that had all changed with their parent’s deaths. She had had to rely on herself – on herself and on her brother. Where an opportunity had risen, to step up their game and possibly to get revenge on the name still haunting them in their worst nightmares, they hadn’t even hesitated.

Wanda had once been a weakling. It had been the tempering in fire, in a burning pain of experimentation with the sceptre that had made her the woman who she was now.

And she had a mission; she and Pietro had a mission, their chance at revenge finally gaining a shape.

She had already played with Stark’s mind, with the scum only interested in money and destruction; now she could do the same to all of them.

Bursting in with a crash, they clearly hadn’t expected such livid counterattack. A response so… nightmare-like.

Just a flick of wrist and a little concentration on Wanda’s part and they were dropping like dead, trapped in their own minds.

Black Widow, locked in a scary base, ballet dancers, martial art training and merciless killing, her fresh fears creating a horror picture of aiming her gun at her current lover’s head, at her soulmate.

“I should have known you’d never change. You’re nothing but human reduced to a murder machine…”

Thor, oh so mighty God, travelling back to his home planet to a feast, legends messing with his headspace, confusion and helplessness, thunder and lightning all around and out of his control.

“You’ll kill us all! See, son of Odin, close your eyes and see!”

The righteous captain, trapped in his own mind, folded like a house of cards under his soulmate’s dead eyes, anger and accusation blossoming into hate and finally indifference.

“You cared about your 40’s sweetheart more, anyway, didn’t you? If it was her in my place, you would have chosen her before the thousands. You wouldn’t let her blow up… but if I’m nothing to you, then you are nothing to me…”

Satisfied with her work, with only a nudge to their consciousness and their own brains doing the work for her, Wanda smirked as she noticed the busy archer. Now what tricks his could mind come up with? What hardship would he get caught in?

As she slowly sneaked behind his back, a voice snarled behind her, causing her heart to stop from more than a simple fright.

“Kak mozhe neshto tolkova malko da prichini tolkova nepriyatnosti?”

Her first reaction to her blood crystallizing in her veins with horror and rage towards the whole fucking universe, was a snarky reply.

How dared he to call her small? Implying she was weak? Underestimating her and saying that she couldn’t cause any real trouble? Oh, she would show him… that arrogant bastard! She would show him trouble-

“Laĭna…ti mi narichash nepriyatnosti?” she hissed back, carelessly losing the sight of the archer, not interested in him in the slightest all of sudden. “Vie ste strana s greshni khora!”

This stranger, this—this man-machine radiating pain as her powers barely brushed the surface of his mind on instinct… he was the real trouble as she didn’t hesitate to tell him. He was on the wrong side of things! Fraternizing with a mass murderer, with her parent’s killer-

“Pone te sa kho—” he wanted to argue, but they his mind stopped before it started screaming, punching her telepathic powers she seemed suddenly unable to turn off.

Memories, a dozen of his own memories, the way he looked at his soulmark in a mirror, the pain, the sorrow, the torture… his encounter with the Avengers, living with them; with the band of heroes she just put down, one by one, teasing and laughter, compassion and acceptance, even from the man who was supposed to be nothing but a cocky heartless bastard-

“What the hell did you just say?” Bucky rasped, astonished and horrified.

He realized it too then. Everyone always did, didn’t they? Because every person with a soulmark awaited a moment like this; the moment someone would finally say the words matching the ones on their skin, met their expectations or not…

But Bucky Burnes was the farthest from Wanda’s dream when it came to a life-long partner.

Strength is tempered in fire, she remembered reading once. She had once found a special irony in the fact that the treatment by the sceptre felt exactly like that. Wanda’s soul turned to steel with the games the fate had played with her.

So why did her hands fell from their defensive position to her side, limp and drained of all strength and determination they had known, tears stinging her eyes.

Her life was shit and she thought she had made her peace with that. But judging by the deep ache in her chest, she had been holding out for her soulmate more than she had thought. Because why else would it hurt so bad when she found out he was an enemy?

“And I thought Romeo and Juliet was just a lot of crap,” she chuckled bitterly, switching to English when he did.

His thoughts scream at her, disbelief, caution, pain, confusion, regret and hope— ambivalence. He had no idea what to do and he hated her for what she had done to his friends, but the knowledge of her being his, supposedly, it torn him in half, reaching out with willingness to forgive her if she fixed it, because if anyone understood fighting at the wrong side it was him--

Unable to resist, she dug deeper into his mind, baring his very soul, fascinated.

Pietro was still fighting with the archer and Stark, dodging the lame attempts at attack of the Avengers lost in their minds, but for two people, the time stopped.

They stood against each other, staring and motionless, and Wanda was confident she saw more than him. His mind was a tangled mess of emotions and desperate desire to get a hold of them and think rationally, bundle of memories and hopes colliding with reality and rock-solid facts and Wanda felt a pang at her heart, a crushing sensation in her chest when she finally embraced everything his headspace had to offer, getting lost in it.

Lost in him.

James Buchannan Barnes had a beautiful soul. Torn and glued together with little kind gestures from his friends, sweet memories of his sister and everlasting friendship with Steve, his no-longer-little-but-equally-stubborn Steve, Steve’s soulmate, his teammates that accepted Bucky with surprising ease and less judgement anyone would deserve… and the careful way he was giving away the pieces of the very same heart that was barely together, in gentle smiles and good-natured teasing, silent self-declaration of giving his whole life for every single one member of his new-found family.

And Wanda understood. In a fraction of second she looked under the illusions she had helped to build in the Avengers’ minds and saw the truth.

*Pietro, spri!* she cried out straight into his mind, begging him to stop fighting. With another flick of her wrist, her enemies were free of her handiwork, shell-shocked from the experience, too lost to find their footing. “Brat, spri! Pietro… greshim. They are right.”

The battle froze as if the time did and for a second, Wanda felt like she was in her brother’s skin, moving so fast that the world around her stopped turning. The stunned silence was only broken by a soft gush of wind when Pietro appeared by her side.

The Avengers seemed so baffled at her admission they didn’t try to attack them.

She exchanged a look with her twin, hoping her face spoke volumes as tears gathered in her eyes. She was far from convinced that Anthony Stark was a good man; but she knew he was better than the creature they had sworn to assist. And her mother always used to say that a man should be judged by the company he kept. From what she had seen in Bucky Barnes’ head, Stark had one bunch of fine people around; and their imperfections seemed to be balanced by the good they all wished to do.

Pietro understood. Of course he would. More than he could read her expression, he must have felt the change in Wanda’s aura, the transformation touching their bond as well.

He graced her with a reluctant nod of agreement. Via their mental connection, he whispered he trusted her. Her lips curled up in a tender smile.

“Are we just gonna stand here? Are we fighting together or against each other or what?!”

No, Tony Stark was by no means a man she would call good. In fact, she already found out he was an ass. But now, he had become her ally.

From all the eyes on their duo, she chose to meet her soulmate’s.

“Together, Anthony. Because there’s bigger malice in this world than you are.”

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Wanda nearly cut you off right then. The rest of what she showed was a blur of images, fear, pain and determination, destruction and cooperation, all of that leading to this very moment. It all resembled waking up from a very intense confusing dream, being pulled away into consciousness by the first sunrays of the dawn.

You blinked heavily as the world swayed off its place, the counter seemingly in a peculiar angle from your point of view.

Why was the lamp not up, but on the side? Why was it spinning?

“Oops. Sorry. Never made the connection for such a long period of time-“ a voice reached you, breaking through the hush of blood and your own heartbeat in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get a fucking grip on both your body and thoughts.

Bucky had a soulmate?

No, not relevant, the images were too unclear for you to be sure everyone made it out alright, you needed to see Steve first, you had to-

By the time Steve’s figure appeared in your field of vision, you were certain you were steady on your feet and finally managed to control your mouth.

“Steve!” you cried out excitedly as you sprang his direction, relief mixing with delight, because he was alive, he was not bleeding visibly, he-

-was suddenly graced with an identical twin, two loving tired smiles blending into one and splitting into two the next moment, swimming in your vision and you felt something solid grabbing your body and positioning it right into his strong arms.

You gazed at him in haze, melting into his warm and firm embrace, spotting a swirl of red energy flow around you.

Oh. Wanda’s work, no doubt. Sweet.

“Are you okay, doll? Are you sick? What happened?”

Wanda’s guilt was nearly solid in your reach, but you only let your head lull onto Steve’s shoulder, plunging into the fluff of love that his presence provided.

“Nah. I’m fine… just drunk on you…” you mumbled.

The girl’s bubbly relieved laughter rang in the room, bringing a satisfied smile on your face.

Steve’s kiss landed on your forehead, corners of his own lips upright despite the concern in his voice.

“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s just get you to bed…”

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Part 5

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Thank you for reading!

I chose Bulgarian, just to avoid traditional Russian this once. Bucky is a Winter Soldier after all and he should know how to speak 30 languages or so :D just thought this would work. Google translator used; apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you had an okay start to 2021 :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogres x you #soulmate au #steve rogers soulmate #steve rogers imagine #captain america #captain america soulmate #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #mcu #marvel #winsod #anika ann

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marumafan · 3 years

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(headcanon)- The End Game Theory

It's been a long time since I've done one of these, but I was chatting about Shinou and I end up going down memory lane and adding more and more stuff to my explanations and... I can't recall if I've ever put this all together before, but here are some ideas that have been brewing in my head.

I take this info from: 1) The novel canon (mostly Gaiden 4 , which needs to be read and analyzed more, and also Gaiden 2) 2) The manga canon (knowing that GEG, the script writer, has always been privy to the end plot) 3) Drama cd 43, written by GEG (the editor and writer for the first manga) and TT-sensei (TT- Takabayashi Tomo, the author of the novels)

1) Soushu

-From the maruma encyclopedia, MA hon-

"soushu : When they tried to swallow the entire world, a group of brave people lead by Shinou and Daikenja defeated them, and their dangerous existence was sealed into four boxes. (Novel 1)"

Notice how they're called 'existence' without clarifying exactly what they are. In the novels they were referred to as ‘consciousness that stagnated’.

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2) The Boxes

- From the manga chapter 114-

Who was the soushu inside Wolfram's box? Shinou's older brother.

Now... is this the brother from Gaiden 4, chapter 3?

I just want to remind everyone that it was GEG who was writing the script for the manga, and she's probably known the end game for a long time.

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3) Shinou's Older brother

-From Gaiden 4, chapter 3 -

(Shinou's older brother) “There’s no need to be so formal with me, my mother is simply a female officer as well, so she’s in about the same position as you.”

(Shinou or his mom) “Even so, you are the oldest prince, Your Highness.”

(Shinou's older brother) “I was just born earlier than my other brothers.” (...)

(later, Shinou talking to Murata)

“On the battlefield, he wouldn’t let himself fall to the point where he had to be protected, after all he is quite capable in his own right. But he was killed by his own hand. After he was accused of planning a rebellion, the king ordered him to take his own life. However…”

That man grasps his hands and puts them behind his head, closing his eyes as he leans backward. Although he’s just a soul, his actions and mannerisms are still very lifelike.

“There are also rumors that the head belonged to someone who died suddenly in a bar three days prior, and that the prince had already successfully left the country under the guidance of a dancer.”

“The dancer you mean is…”

“Well, who could it be? The truth is I didn’t witness it with my own eyes either, after all I had already left before the woman who gave birth to me returned to the country.”

And he continues with an expression of pity,

“If the brilliant oldest son had inherited the throne, that country wouldn’t have fallen so early on. At the very least, it would have held on to fight against me.”

“Even if the opponent is a man as good as a father to you, you still wouldn’t hesitate to fight—seems like you really are a battle-hungry man.”

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4) Shinzoku and Mazoku

I've already gone into a deep dive about the connection of shinzoku and mazoku before here, in the Soushu Connection .

In short, it's novel and manga canon and that houryoku and maryoku are two sides of the same coin, it's the same energy.

And let's not forget that the boxes themselves release houryoku (the energy used by the shinzoku), which is why the mines in Svelera where the box was found had so many houseki, and why the houseki disappeared once the box was removed.

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5) Cherie and the blood

A deep dive on Cherie and how she's been doing Shinou's bidding since forever.

But more importantly, in drama cd 43- Secret (written by TT sensei) it is heavily implied that Cherie is Shinou's closest descendant (and I'm pretty sure it's also implied in Gaiden 4 chapter 7.1)

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6) Yuuri

Remember the Wincott theory, where I gathered that maybe Miko was a Wincott and that's how Yuuri got the Wincott blood? But what about Shouma? What if... what if the black haired mazoku on earth are all descendants from Daikenja? Making them all related to Shinou as well?

I can't forget that part where it says that Shinou chose a very specific family for Yuuri.

- From Gaiden 2- Chapter 1 - (Shouma) "So why did you bring it to far-away Boston and not your own country? Not only that, why did you choose my family from the tons of mazoku all over the world?"

(Bob)"There seems to be some reasons. However, I haven't been told them and I don't intend to ask." Bob, who looked like an actor, narrowed his eyes meaningfully. "This is an important soul that will eventually become a king. They're sending it abroad - and to another world where the society and culture is different. That requires significant resolve and, conversely, a significant reason. Under those circumstances, the other side gave us their faith and entrusted it to us. Shouldn't we try to meet their expectations?"

(...)

(Shouma)"Why my family? There are beautiful couples everywhere out there in the world who are more wealthy and skilled."

(Bob)"Oh? I heard from your grandaunt that your wife is a wonderful woman."

(...)

(Bob) "Come now, I chose you so you have to trust me a little. I'll tell you, but what they want is black hair, black eyes, passion, guts, and a sense of justice. That and average intelligence. There were a few more unique conditions, but after taking them all into account, I'm entrusting it to you, Shibuya, as a Japanese person.

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7) Summary

[] Shinzoku and mazoku are opposite sides of the same thing. (Girl is a Witch)

[] In Japanese mythology, shinzoku are the god people and mazoku are those who oppose them. (Japanese definitions of mazoku/shinzoku)

[] The boxes release houryoku (Svelera). (novel 3)

[] The soushus (creators/gods) in the boxes are Shinou's relatives. (manga chapter 114)

[] Shinou's trying to get all the keys (that Murata put in others'blood) to be related to him, through Cherie. (drama 43, Secret and Gaiden 4, chapter 7.1)

The End game: Shinou wants the boxes, because they have his powerful trapped relatives in them and wants to use their power to conquer the world. Somehow he wants his descendants to be able to control his ancestors powers in the boxes, and ultimately getting that power for himself.

extra1 - Shinou's brother (or father?) may have originated the shinzoku, which would explain why Alazon could use the fire box (which happened to be the one that had the brother’s soul in the manga).

extra 2- Yuuri might also be "in the family". I mean he's the main character, if this whole story is about Shinou's family and powers, shouldn't he be "in it", too?

#kyou kara maou #kkm #maruma #headcanon #how out there is this really XD #I dont need sleep I need answers

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anything4our-moony · 3 years

Text

By the Water Fountain

Pairing: Draco x Harry

Word count: 4.6k

Rating: T, mild language

Warnings: mention of excess drinking

Prompt/Summary: from @lxncelot‘s 100 dialogue prompts:

8- “Keep talking, I want to fall asleep to your voice.”

43- “Why didn’t you tell me?”

68- “But I’ve never told you that before.”

This is my first time posting a oneshot on this blog; I hope you all enjoy! <3

•••

Harry honestly didn’t drink very often.

He would occasionally have a beer with friends at dinner or a glass of firewhisky on special occasions. He was typically the designated sober friend when Seamus and Ron wanted to get drunk and sing karaoke in muggle bars, ensuring that they made it safely to their homes at the end of the night. He didn’t mind; he loved seeing his friends happy.

But after the day Harry had, he welcomed the blurred around the edges effect that crept into his vision as he downed his 4th drink at a local pub, and it was all because of Draco Bloody Malfoy.

Harry and Draco’s paths began to cross quite frequently, Harry working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Draco being the healer to patch up his wounds when his Gryffindor heart outweighed his rational brain and got him into dangerous situations. The fifth time Harry ended up at St. Mungo’s, Draco simply shook his head and muttered, “We have got to stop meeting like this, Potter.”

After getting over the initial awkwardness of ‘used to be enemies but are now grown adults with bigger issues’, they started to form an almost friendship. They both frequented a small, family owned Middle Eastern restaurant on their lunch breaks that was nearby the hospital, and after running into each other one two many times, decided to start sitting and eating together. “Because there’s no need to give the staff double the work, Potter.” Draco had scoffed when Harry had raised an eyebrow at his suggested arrangement. But he never complained.

Harry sat on the stiff, wooden barstool, stirring his drink mindlessly and staring at the glistening ice cubes, possibly hoping they had advice for him, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“This seat taken?” Ron Weasley sat down next to Harry and gestured to the bartender. “Can I get a pint of whatever you have on draft?” He turned to look Harry up and down. “You look like hell.”

Harry raised his glass a bit and mutter “Cheers, mate.”

Ron snorted. “Who is he and what’s he done to make the great Harry Potter run away to a bar to get plastered alone?”

When Harry first “came out” to his friends, Ron was the first to accept it. He had a conversation with all of their male friends and told them if they ever said anything cross to Harry about it, he’d hex their bollocks off. He was so grateful for Ron’s unwavering loyalty.

“How do you know it’s a bloke that’s got me gutted?” Harry replied, still staring down at his drink.

“Please.” Ron scoffed. “You’ve been staring at that drink like it might lay you on a couch and start giving you relationship advice.” He took a swig of his drink and added “Plus I’ve known you since you were eleven, mate. You’re not as mysterious and hard to read as you think.”

That made Harry laugh and then groan. He put his head in his hands. “Ron. I think that I might fancy someone.”

Ron looked startled, but replied, “Harry that’s great! Anyone I know?”

Harry moaned into his hands and hesitated but finally answered. “I think...I think I fancy Draco Malfoy.”

Harry hadn’t come to this realization quickly. Obviously he knew he was into blokes, but he never really considered anyone he was already acquainted with as an option. His small dating pool consisted of first dates with internet matches and set ups with friends of friends whose only similarity to Harry was their mutual queerness.

But Draco was...well, Draco. He would insult and tease you to your wits end, but was fiercely protective of the people he loved being their backs. He was outwardly cocky and arrogant, but when Draco sat next to Harry’s bed at St. Mungo’s chatting with him hours after his shift ended, he would confide in Harry all the ways he was immensely unsure of himself. He confessed how frightened he was that someday he wouldn’t be allowed to continue his work because the wrong person wouldn’t want an “Ex Death Eater” saving their life. He admitted that he had been utterly terrified during the war; that he wandered out early on, but had no idea how to get out without risking his and his parents’ lives. He even thanked Harry for the time he saved him in the room of requirement.

“I never showed you even an ounce of kindness, yet you risked your life just to save me. I didn’t know anyone could be that selfless.”

Even after all that, Harry still hadn’t put a name to what he was feeling for Draco. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was until that morning; the morning that caused him to end up in the pub in the first place.

Harry met Draco for lunch at their usual spot. They were talking about the recent Quidditch match that they had both read about in the Daily Prophet.

“I don’t know why the Harpies don’t just go ahead and make Ginevra the starting seeker. She’s not doing any good on the bench, and she can fly circles around that Malcolm chap.” He sipped his coffee and continued, “I bet she could even give you a run for your money.”

Harry laughed and took a bite of his falafel. “She could definitely kick my arse at this stage in my life. I haven’t been on a broomstick since the last time I tried to give Rose Weasley a flying lesson, and I think even she was better than me by the end of the day.” Draco flashed an easy smile at him.

They paid for their food and began to walk towards the hospital. There had been a misfired jinx at Harry’s work, resulting in all of the plumbing pouring out fruit pastilles instead of water. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal to him, but he was glad to have the rest of the day off regardless.

They walked in comfortable silence for a bit. The restaurant hadn’t been busy, so Draco had a few minutes to spare before he needed to return to his shift. They decided to take a seat on the edge of an old fountain in the middle of the square.

Draco looked at the water and laughed light heartedly. “Muggles are so odd. Why would anyone throw money into the water just to watch it sink? Do they know that it’s useless down there?”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “It’s a superstitious tradition. You throw the money in and make a wish, and it’s supposed to come true. I’m not really sure why, though. Maybe because you made some odd kind of offering to the god of water fountains.” Draco pursed his lips and considered this.

“Here.” Harry said and reached into his pocket and pulled out two sickles. He handed one to Draco and closed his eyes. “I wish that the pipes get filled with candy at work more often so I can spend more time with my dear friend Draco.” He threw the coin over his shoulder, and it

splashed into the water. Draco smiled. He stared at the coin in his hand for a long moment, and just as Harry was about to open his mouth and say something, he closed his eyes and closed his hand around the coin.

“I wish that the world will someday see me for the good things I do in the present and will do in the future rather than the bad things I did in my past.” He tossed the coin over his shoulder and opened his eyes.

Harry stared into the grey eyes he had lately been becoming more and more familiar with. There was a hint of sadness there, but also a look of steadfast finality. He knew that Draco would continue to try and pay for his mistakes time and time again, whether through healing those who needed him or reinventing himself into the kindhearted, compassionate individual he was today. A gust of wind suddenly blew his platinum blonde hair into his face, and without thinking, Harry reached up and gently pushed it out of the way, revealing his grey eyes once again. Draco stiffened, and Harry dropped his hand and looked away. After a too long pause, Draco cleared his throat.

“I’ll- I better go inside, then.” He stood and brushed off the back of his trousers. Harry, carefully avoiding his eyes, nodded and stood as well. They both murmured awkward goodbyes and went their separate ways.

•••

Harry rested his elbows on the sticky bar top and groaned again. He fancied Draco Malfoy, and now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover.

Ron spluttered a bit, then finally said, “Well, it could be worse. At least he’s pretty attractive.”

Harry shifted his gaze towards his friend, frowning. “Yes I’m quite aware of that, thanks.” He sighed. “I think I just need to have a few more drinks about it.”

Ron smiled and patted Harry on the shoulder. Suddenly, his phone chimed, causing Ron to jump. He was still having trouble getting used to muggle technology.

He frowned. “Uh oh. ‘Mione says baby Hugo’s got a stomach bug. I better get home and relieve her for a bit.” He stood up and said pointedly to Harry, “It’s not the end of the world, mate. If you think it’ll work, ask him out. If you don’t-“ he shrugged “I guess you’re on the right track.” He gestured towards Harry’s empty glass. “Listen, don’t try and apparate in your condition. Get a cab or something, and call me if you need anything.” Harry grunted a response, not knowing if he could say anything coherent in his state. Ron patted his shoulder again, then turned and headed out the door.

Harry sighed, then asked the bartender for another drink.

After a while, the crowd in the pub began to dwindle down, and Harry realized he should probably make the trek home. He stood up and saw stars and knew Ron was right; he definitely could not apparate like this, unless he wanted half of him to end up in the Pacific Ocean. But there was one problem- Harry didn’t have any muggle money for a cab, and he was too drunk to remember what to do in this situation. He remembered Ron’s offer and picked up his phone and went to his recent calls. He was about to choose Ron’s contact when he saw another name.

‘Malfoy’ with a green snake emoji.

Harry giggled and grinned, and thought ‘what the hell?’ He stepped outside and clicked the call button.

It rang one and a half times, and a gravelly voice grumbled, “Potter? What the hell are you doing, do you know what time it is?”

Harry snorted and replied, “Yes Draco, I do know how to read.” He giggled. “Just because I’m not in Ravenclaw doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

There was a short pause, and Draco remarked, “Are you drunk?”

“Hmm”, Harry mused happily, and said, “Extremely.”

Draco let out an exasperated sigh, and there was a shuffle of movement on the other line. “Where are you?” He demanded.

Harry looked and his vision swam. “Um. London?” He heard Draco inhale and start to say something, but quickly continued. “I’m just kidding, hah. There’s a street sign, but I don’t know what it says. Maybe I can’t read...” he trailed off. Then he spotted a familiar sculpture in front of a small park, and he perked up. “Oh! I see my statue!” He narrowed his eyes at the golden replica of him that had been placed there not too long ago. “It’s really embarrassing that they put that here. And I don’t think I’m actually that tall.”

Draco sighed again, and said, “Potter. I’ll be there in approximately 4 seconds. Please try not to die.” The line went dead, and Harry heard the *crack* of someone apparating next to him.

Put together, ready for the day Draco was already a sight to see; his pure blood upbringing instilled a need to constantly look flawless, no wrinkles or hairs out of place. He had immaculate posture, and one could tell by merely looking at him that he was someone important. But rumpled, hair perfectly messy, fresh out of bed blinking sleep from his eyes Draco? Well.

He was so beautiful Harry could cry.

“Hi.” Harry grinned drunkenly at him. Draco pursed his lips, looking equally amused and annoyed at the same time.

He murmured a simple, “Hello.”

Harry stared at his face, so gorgeously illuminated in the moonlight, sharp edges softened by the glow. Even in his drunken state, he wondered how he missed this; how he hadn’t recognized the burning need to stroke his ivory skin, run his fingers over his sharp nose, his lips...

Harry shook his head and sighed. “I’m drunk.”

Draco’s mouth turned up slightly at the corner, and he simply replied, “Quite.” He turned to look around. “We can side along apparate as long as you don’t try to do it yourself. Otherwise we’ll both end up splinched between here and Merlin knows where.” Draco put one arm around Harry’s waist and the other firmly on his bicep so they were chest to chest, while Harry tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

Draco looked at him softly, expression unreadable, and asked, “Are you ready?” Harry swallowed and nodded, trying to ignore how close their faces were. Harry closed his eyes and hoped he didn’t vomit as the familiar feeling pulled at his stomach and the air swirled around him.

Just as quickly as it had started, everything suddenly stilled. “Harry.” Draco whispered. Harry opened his eyes to see Draco staring at him intently, with the same soft and confusing look as earlier. “Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs.”

Harry vaguely noticed that he didn’t quite recognize where they were, but he was focusing most of his attention on breathing steadily. He was extremely aware that Draco kept a firm hand on Harry’s waist as they walked up the stairs to a quaint little townhouse. Draco unlocked the door with the key and quietly let Harry inside.

At this point, Harry could feel his eyes starting to close on their own and his legs start to grow weak from exhaustion. Luckily, Draco led Harry to a bedroom with a beautiful wooden four poster bed. He sat down on the edge and rubbed his temples while Draco rummaged through a dresser. He pulled out a shirt and a pair of sleep pants and handed them to Harry.

“I’ll run and get you a glass of water.” He patted the top of Harry’s head before exiting the room and closing the door behind him. Harry quickly changed out of his stiff work clothes into the more comfortable ones Draco had leant him. He ran a hand through his unruly curls and moved to lay down. Draco came back with a glass of water and a small vial.

“Take this in the morning. It’ll help a bit.” Draco smiled as he sat on the edge of the bed and shook his head. “I never thought I’d have to be the one to rescue Harry Potter from a drunken escapade.”

Harry snorted sleepily. “I’m usually not one to drown my sorrows, but there’s a first time for everything.”

Draco pressed his mouth into a hard line and retorted, “Who’s the lucky girl that got to break The Chosen One’s heart?”

Harry just stared at him confused for a moment, before blurting out, “I’m gay.” Draco raised an eyebrow, and he continued, “Like, really really gay.”

Draco once again got that unreadable expression on his face, but his shoulders relaxed a little bit. “Well, I hope whoever had you ‘drowning your sorrows’, as you so eloquently put it, is worth it.” He started to stand up, but Harry clumsily grabbed for his hand.

“Wait no.” He frowned. “Keep talking, I want to fall asleep to the sound of your voice.” Draco’s face reddened (and Harry was way too drunk to consider what that meant), but nodded and sat back down.

“What would you like me to talk about, then?” Harry closed his eyes and relaxed. “Tell me more about your wish. At the fountain.”

He heard Draco’s breathing, not slow and even, but not panting either. Harry was vaguely aware that he was still clutching Draco’s hand. “I know that there’s no excuse for my actions. I’m well aware that I hurt more people than I can even begin to understand,” he hesitated, “but I hope someday I’ll be remembered as someone who eventually started to help rather than hurt.”

Harry wanted to keep listening, wanted Draco to talk to him until his voice gave out, but exhaustion was slowly taking over. He softly squeezed Draco’s hand and murmured, “I’ll always know that. I’ll remember.”

As Harry drifted off to sleep, Draco whispered, “Thank you, Harry.”

•••

Harry woke up the next morning feeling as though he had been repeatedly run over by the knight bus. He groaned and sat up. With a start, he realized he was not in his bedroom. He looked around the light grey room as the events of the night before came flooding back to him. “Oh Merlin.” He moaned and put his head in his hands.

“No, sorry, just me.” Draco smiled as he walked through the door. He set a mug of steaming tea next to Harry and said, “Three sugars and a pinch of cinnamon.” Harry looked up at him, squinting a bit as his eyes adjusted to the light.

“You know how I like my tea.” He stated blatantly. “But I’ve never told you that before.” Draco looked away, embarrassed.

“I’ve eaten lunch with you almost every day for the past four months, Potter. It’s an insult to my intelligence that you think I’m that unobservant.” There was no malice in his voice, only light hearted teasing. He looked at the bedside table and handed Harry his glasses and the vial he placed there the night before. “This won’t cure a hangover, but it’ll make it a hell of a lot more bearable.”

Harry mumbled a thanks and slid his glasses onto his face. He downed the potion in one gulp and grimaced. Draco laughed at whatever face Harry was making. He grumbled, “Remind me never to go near alcohol again.”

“Duly noted.” Draco said with another grin. “Come one them, I’ll make breakfast.”

Harry walked into the living room and noticed the blanket and pillow laid on the couch. “You slept on the sofa?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. “My bed was a bit occupied for the night.”

“I would have shared.” Harry replied without thinking. Draco looked away and busied himself in the kitchen.

What on Earth was wrong with him, Harry wondered idly. Draco apparently had the uncanny ability to make Harry say whatever was on his mind, both drunk and hungover it seemed. Draco started to hum to himself while he buttered bread, and Harry walked over and sat himself on the counter and allowed himself to really stare.

Draco was in the same rumpled shirt and sleep pants he had been wearing when he rescued Harry from the streets of London the night before. His hair was a bit flattened in the back from his pillow, and he had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Harry let himself daydream about

getting to witness this every morning; waking up to Draco, looking like a slightly disheveled Adonis, making Harry breakfast. His heart yearned for the domesticity of it all.

He didn’t realize he’d been caught staring until he looked up and his eyes met Draco’s. His cheeks warmed and he but his lip, embarrassed, but didn’t look away. He tapped his fingers on the counter anxiously. Draco stared at him for a moment longer then looked away, continuing his cooking. “Are cheese toasties alright? I always like a bit of comfort food when I’m hungover.” Draco smiled at him, a small but still dazzling smile.

“You don’t have to do that for me, I’m fine with anything, really.” He looked down at his fingers still tapping the counter.

Suddenly Draco’s hand covered his, halting his anxious tapping. “A bit restless, are we?” he teased softly. Harry looked up, about to respond, and realized Draco’s face was mere inches away from his own. He wasn’t sure if it was the leftover alcohol in his system or if it was his stupid, reckless Gryffindor heart, but something in him made him suddenly close the distance between them to kiss him.

As soon as he did it, he regretted it and pulled away. He leaped down from the counter and stumbled away towards the living room.

“I’m- er, sorry, I’ll just...” he stuttered. “I’m going to go.”

Draco reached an arm out to him. “Harry, wait-“

“Thank you for, um, all this. I-“, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “See you later.”

He quickly disapparated, leaving Draco standing in the kitchen looking confused, his arm still extended towards Harry.

•••

Harry hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch since he had arrived in his flat 3 hours earlier. He laid on his back with his arm flung over his eyes, his head still pounding from the hangover and his mortifying actions in Draco’s kitchen. His heart sank every time he thought about it. The

truth was, even before Harry’s discovery of his more than friendly feelings towards Draco, he’d cherished their relationship. Ron and Hermione were great friends, but they were everything to each other and often were lost in their own bubble, which was something Harry couldn’t and didn’t want to compete with. His relationship with Draco was something Harry had all to himself. It was effortless and easy, and he found himself looking forward to any time they spent together. He knew he’d ruined everything, and he was already grieving the loss of their friendship.

There was a soft knock on his door. He groaned. A local football team had been going door to door selling magazines to raise money for some kind of tournament for the past week. He got up and slowly walked to the door. As he opened it he said, “Look guys, I already bought a subscription last week, I’m really not interested in-“. He looked up.

Draco stood in the doorway with a tentative smile plastered on his face. He held up a brown paper sack and said, “You left without your breakfast.” Harry blinked at him, not processing what was going on. “Er-“, Draco rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, “can I come in?”

Harry blinked and nodded, stepping out of the way. Draco walked to the sofa and sat down. He looked back at Harry, who was still standing by the doorway looking flabbergasted, and gestured towards the empty seat next to him. Harry swallowed and slowly walked to the couch, sitting as far away from Draco as the tiny love seat allowed.

They were both silent for a moment. Harry started to tap his fingers anxiously on the cushions, but he remembered what had happened the last time he had done that near Draco and decided to put his hands in his lap instead.

Draco finally broke the silence by saying, “Do you remember Blaise Zabini?”

Harry pursed his lips at the odd question but answered, “Of course. He works over at Gringotts now, right?”

Draco nodded and continued, “He and I had a sort of fling in our fifth year. Very casual, very secret, but still very real.”

Harry stared at him blankly until realization dawned on him. “So...you’re saying that you’re-“.

“‘Like, really really gay’ as you so eloquently put it last night.” Draco smirked at him, and Harry gave him a tentative smile in return. Draco nonchalantly slid his knee closer to Harry’s and looked at him until he finally met his eyes.

“And”, he began, ”I think that I’d like to give you a proper kiss, if that’s alright with you.”

Harry swallowed loudly but managed to say, “I’d like that very much.” Draco smiled and slowly raised his hand to stroke Harry’s cheek. He moved towards him painfully slow, and Harry closed

his eyes and exhaled, parting his lips in a slight ‘o’ shape. Draco closed the last few inches between them and pressed their lips together.

Draco’s lips were soft and warm as they moved slowly against his own. Harry slid a bit closer and placed one hand on Draco’s knee and the other at the nape of his neck, twisting his fingers in his hair and deepening their kiss. Draco slowly slid his tongue along Harry’s bottom lip and let out a soft moan. Harry, in a moment of blind confidence moved his hands to Draco’s thighs and pulled him onto his lap, never breaking their kiss. He felt Draco skim his teeth along Harry’s lip as Harry slid his hands underneath Draco’s shirt, resting on his hips and gently tracing circles on his bare skin. Draco moved his hands into Harry’s hair and tugged gently, making him gasp and accidentally breaking their lips’ embrace. Draco pressed their foreheads together, eyes still closed and trying to catch their breath. Harry opened his eyes and silently traced his fingers across Draco’s facial features like he had longed to do last night. Draco leaned into Harry’s palm, still straddling him with his hands tangled in Harry’s ebony hair.

Harry was the one to eventually break their silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco quirked up an eyebrow. “You mean why didn’t I tell you that I’m gay, or why didn’t I tell you that I’ve wanted to snog the hell out of you since I was fifteen? Either way, it’s not something that just easily comes up in conversation, Potter.” He rolled his eyes but stroked his thumb against Harry’s face.

“Well you could’ve told me either way. I-“, Harry stopped. “Wait. Did you say fifteen?”

Draco but his lip. “I was a prat, I know. But I didn’t know how else to cope with falling for my sworn enemy. Very un-Slytherin of me.” Draco shifted so he was now sitting next to Harry with his legs stretched out across his lap. He held Harry’s hand in both of his and gently stroked his long fingers. “How long have-“, Draco stumbled, “Er-, when did you, um, realize?”

Harry laughed quietly. “Well I’ve known I was gay since I was 17. But I only discovered my feelings for you-“, Harry put his hand under Draco’s chin and pulled his face up to look at him, “less than 24 hours ago.” Draco’s face was so comical he couldn’t help but laugh. “I knew I felt something for you; a tug in my stomach perhaps. But I only put a name to it yesterday. You know, drowning my sorrows and that whole bit.” Harry paused, watching Draco’s face, then continued, “And I think you are, by the way.”

Draco looked at him questioningly. “Are what?”

Harry smiled a crooked smile at him and replied, “You said you hoped whoever I was drinking about was worth it.” He pushed Draco’s hair out of his eyes like he had only yesterday at the fountain. “And I definitely think you are.”

Draco sighed. “Bloody Gryffindor’s. Ridiculous romantics, the lot of you.” But he beamed at him and pulled Harry in to kiss him again before saying, “Harry Potter, you have the most brilliant soul I have ever had the privilege of encountering.”

Harry grinned and pushed him down on his back into the sofa and moved to hover over him. “Now who’s the romantic?” Harry stared into those granite grey eyes and smiled before kissing him once again.

•••

If you made it this far, thank you so so much for reading my fic! Please feel free to reply or message me with what you thought, any comments of suggestions for my writing, etc.! <3

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #drarry fic #Harry Potter #HP #Harry potter fic #slytherin #Draco x Harry #EWE #Draco fic #Draco fanfiction

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cricketnationrise · 3 years

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Books Read in quarantine: Part 2

part 1 is here.

26. Free Little Library by Naomi Kritzer: tor.com short story. there’s a magical being that uses the free little library as the ultimate resource in gaining power and bettering their society. cute with a vengeful twist.

27. Sinew and Steel and What They Told by Carrie Vaughn: tor.com short story. i don’t remember this one super well but i remember the structure being cool

28. The Naming by Alison Croggon: book 1 in The Books of Pellinor series. cool magic system, some chosen one and mistaken identity, family LITERALLY found. looking forward to the next one

29. CHECK, PLEASE!, BOOK 2: STICKS AND SCONES BY NGOZI UKAZU: volume 2 of an amazing web series turned graphic novel about a college hockey player who likes to bake and falls in love with his captain its FANTASTIC and i recommend this series to literally everyone i know

30. Eric by Terry Pratchett: Discworld #9. Faust retelling as the premise. guy tries to summon a demon. gets Rincewind and his Trunk out of the demon realm instead. hijinks ensue from there. you probably need some discworld knowledge to follow this one

31. The Secret Life of Sparrow Delaney by Suzanne Harper: middle grade coming of high school novel. Sparrow Delaney can see and talk to ghosts, but she’s keeping her powers from her family (also ghost seers) because she just wants to be normal. a new family moves to town after their oldest son dies. oldest son’s ghost is hanging around his little brother and meets sparrow

32. An Explorer’s Cartography of Already Settled Lands by Fran Wilde: tor.com short story. what can you map? just geography? how sad for you. this narrator can map all sorts of things from bird migrations to emotions of a city

33. The Queen of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner: book 2 in the Queen’s Thief series (complete now). i got into these because of a few different fanfics mentioning them and they are AMAZING I’m very annoyed i didn’t know about them sooner. political intrigue, gods, competent people doing their jobs, everyone underestimating said competent people

34. A Pound of Paper: Confessions of a Book Addict by John Baxter: so i stopped reading this one about halfway through because i didn’t need to read about the various orgies thrown by authors/literary agents this man attended. also he’s not so much into reading as collecting and that’s boring to me.

35. Love Charms and Other Catastrophes by Kimberly Karalius: book 2 in the Grimbaud series. definitely need to read the first book for context. but its a really sweet series with a dark underbelly that gives a nice contrast. think the paper magician series but milder on all fronts.

36. First Kisses and Other Misfortunes by Kimberly Karalius: set after book 1 in the Grimbaud series it expands on what happens to the main couple from book 1 before book 2 opens. read on swoonreads which is now fiercereads.

37. The Hollow Kingdom by Clare B. Dunkle: goblin king retelling. first in a trilogy. i enjoyed it, especially as the narrator sticks it to abuse family members

38. The Golden Specific by S.E. Grove: book 2 in the mapmakers trilogy. fascinating world building that you absolutely need the first book to understand. aimed at high schoolers. across the world there are different times existing at once. middle ages, technological age, 1800′s, and more times are interacting depending on where in the world you are. sometimes the lines shift.

39. The Crimson Skew by S. E. Grove: book 3 in the mapmakers trilogy. back in america a war is brewing that has managed to weaponize some sort of airborne disease/??? that explodes people. yeah. satisfying close to the series.

40. Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik: why why WHY was this my first Novik book. what was i waiting for??? polish folklore inspired. theres a winter (elf? goblin?) king who needs gold and wife. a fire demon trying to escape his (metaphorical) chains to take down the winter world. and a girl who can turn silver into gold. (by trading). politcal intrigue, magic, a really heavy crown. well worth the read. on a wavelength with the winternight series.

41. The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop: A Memoir, A History by Buzbee Lewis: I picked this up because its about a bookstore and the author’s name is buzbee. cute little memoir with an overview of the history of books/bookstores from ancient times to now

42. All Systems Red by Martha Wells: book 1 in the murderbot diaries. this was actually a reread for me, but it had been long enough that i wanted to refresh and its a novella so its a fast read. A Security Unit (SecUnit) that calls itself Murderbot has hacked its own governor module so that it can watch its soap operas. Now if only the humans it was responsible for would stop being so dumb.

43. Artificial Condition by Martha Wells: book 2 in the Murderbot diaries. Murderbot has freed itself from its government contracts and is working on its own. Murderbot gets a lift to a planet from its past from an empty transport vehicle, named Asshole Research Transport (ART) by Murderbot.

44. Rogue Protocol by Martha Wells: book 3 in the Murderbot diaries. Murderbot’s story continues. pretty crucial that you read these in order. Murderbot continues to be put off by humans and their behavior. Still just trying to consume the media it wants without being bothered.

45. Exit Strategy by Martha Wells: book 4 in the Murderbot diaries. Murderbot meets back up with the humans from book 1. chaos ensues while trying to escape the company that Murderbot used to be contracted to.

46. Network Effect by Martha Wells: book 5 in the Murderbot diaries. first full length novel in the series. another one to come in April 2021. Murderbot gets kidnapped from its human friends. turns out ART needs some help and doesn’t have any other friends.

47. Airborn by Kenneth Oppel: steampunk pirates in airships. kind of similar in vibes to the aesthetic of the leviathan series, but strictly mechanical advancements. cool worldbuilding. teenage girl scientist protagonist. first in a series.

48. The Angel’s Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafón: book 2 in the cemetery of forgotton books series. very atmospheric. like you can almost see the fog while you read it. supernatural/elements of magical realism. helps if you read book 1

49. I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death by Maggie O’Farrell: memoir told out of chronological order. each titled with the body part that almost caused death (neck, spine, blood, lungs, etc). by definition, not a happy read, but powerful. trigger warning for the neck story for an almost abduction/assault. content warning for chronic illness/disease.

50. Uncommon Type by Tom Hanks: yes that Tom Hanks. series of short stories. some of them are connected. i can’t remember anything super upsetting, and some of them are straight up comedic. elements of the absurd. in one a group of friends goes into space. like without nasa or any organization. they just. build a rocket. and go to space.

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

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Tears of Themis: Main Story 5-13 Translation

Translated parts: Chapter 5 – Sounds of Falling Snow (Part 1, 2, 3): 5-1 / 5-3 / 5-5 / 5-7 / 5-9 / 5-11 / 5-13 ♦️ ♦️ 5-14 / 5-16 / 5-18 / 5-20 / 5-22 / 5-24 / 5-26 / 5-28 ♦️ ♦️ 5-29 / 5-31 / 5-33 / 5-35 / 5-37 / 5-39 / 5-40 / 5-42 / 5-43

Translation Masterlist: here

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1Bv411C711?p=7

Xia Yan and I placed the documents we had found in Kong Moli’s house in front of us. We suddenly felt that this case might be more complicated than we’d expected.

Xia Yan: This Wang Han is the head of Rainbow River Village.

Xia Yan: He was always storming at the front lines of the rights protection fight for the pollution of the Rainbow River water.

Xia Yan: Liu Yuhai – I just checked from the citizen information database. He should be a village citizen of Rainbow River Village.

Xia Yan: But in the NXX case file, I didn’t notice this person’s information.

Xia Yan: On the surface, he seems to not be involved with this case.

MC: No need to talk about Qiu Heng, the essential person behind Kong Moli losing the case.

MC: Then linking the dismissal letter and the investment plan record together…

MC: Could it be hinting at Kong Moli’s boss?

MC: As for that notebook… the missing pages just might record information that directly implicates Heirson.

Xia Yan: If these deliberately-left clues are all related to Kong Moli or the Rainbow River pollution case…

Xia Yan: Don’t you think the related people are too many? Plus, the relations between these people are not clear.

Xia Yan: Especially Kong Moli’s unexpected death…

Xia Yan: Theoretically, if Heirson planned to shut her mouth, they would definitely do this quietly.

Xia Yan: All of a sudden, so many involved people come in – aren’t they afraid of the plan leaking?

Xia Yan: Plus, Kong Moli is just a typical reporter. If they want to deal with her, they don’t need to mobilize such large forces.

MC: Why do I feel that after investigating around, my doubts increased instead?

MC: We still have no way of confirming the hacker’s identity…

MC: Could it really be Youyou?

Xia Yan: Instead of guessing this and that here, it would be better if we directly looked for Mu Ziyou and asked him clearly.

The colour of the sky was gradually darkening. The fiery setting sun lit up the puffs of clouds in the sky.

I took up my phone to look – it was already time for dinner.

The orphanage’s receiving time for outsiders had already passed. Today, there was no way of meeting Youyou.

MC: It’s late, we should get off work for today. Do you have any plans for dinner?

MC: Do you want to come to my place? I’ll cook something with noodles.

Xia Yan: I’ll send you home; we should get takeout.

Xia Yan: Though I really want to eat the noodles you make, you must be really tired from running around all day. Let’s do it next time instead.

MC: That’s also fine. Then in a moment, send me back on your motorcycle; I kind of want that place’s takeout.

Kong Moli’s House’s Neighbourhood

Xia Yan and I locked up Kong Moli’s house door, taking all items and descending the floor.

We’d just gotten out of the floor door when Xia Yan suddenly got close to me, one hand blocking my waist.

MC: Xia Yan, you…

Xia Yan: Shh, quiet, there’s someone following us.

MC: !!!

Instantly, a current of cold air climbed along my spine. The skin on my back seemed to pop.

My heart was in a panicked frenzy, and I agitatedly looked in all directions, yet I didn’t dare to make movements that were too large. I could only subconsciously hold my work briefcase in my arms tightly.

Xia Yan: Don’t be worried, walk forward naturally. I’m here.

Xia Yan’s arm was continuously placed behind my waist, keeping its distance.

He didn’t touch me, yet it let me feel the warm temperature transmitted from his body.

Just like the words he spoke near my ear – though the sound was quiet, it still let one feel particularly at peace.

Xia Yan: Listening from the footsteps, it’s not an adult man. I’ll count 3, 2, 1, you’ll run forward, and I’ll deal with him.

I nodded lightly and carefully analyzed the road conditions in front, selecting the best course of action.

I reached out my hand into the briefcase, feeling the lipstick tranquillizer gun Xia Yan gave me.

I didn’t know how far the shooting range for this thing was, and if it could help Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: Ready? 3, 2, 1!

As soon as the words fell from Xia Yan’s lips, I immediately ran forward two steps, took out the lipstick tranquillizer gun, turned around and pointed it in the direction he had sprinted in.

In one stride, Xia Yan leaped to the road corner’s flowerbed, his hand movements so fast that you could almost see an afterimage, pulling out a skinny little body from behind the flowerbed.

Xia Yan: I didn’t believe it when I heard the footsteps earlier – how is it actually a little kid?

Seeing the person that Xia Yan had grabbed in his hand, I was startled.

The clothes on the child’s body were so dirty, his mouth set in a pout, and stubbornness was written all over his white, tender small face.

But his eyes were very cold. He looked coldly at Xia Yan, then at me, not saying a single word.

MC: Youyou, why are you here!

Home

I never could have thought that we would meet Youyou on the bottom floor of Kong Moli’s house.

It further confirmed Xia Yan’s and my guesses about Youyou’s identity.

He should be that hacker that invaded the big data lab.

MC: Orphanage head, don’t worry, Youyou is here with me.

MC: It’s late now, I’ll let Youyou live for a night at my house. I’ll send him back to the orphanage tomorrow.

MC: Sure, sure, no problem at all, it was me that brought trouble to you.

MC: Mm, goodbye. orphanage head.

I hung up and turned around to see one big and one little boy sitting on the sofa, clutching the iPads, looking completely engrossed.

MC: Aren’t you two… going to eat?

MC: Plus, Xia Yan, didn’t I tell you to give Youyou a bath first…

On the way home while bringing Youyou, aside from buying dinner, Xia Yan and I bought Youyou two sets of clothes so he could change and wash.

Looking at that child’s wretched look, he must have suffered a lot to sneak out of the orphanage.

I had originally intended to have Xia Yan give Youyou a bath and have him be able to eat while fresh and clean, but these two people…

MC: What kind of game are you guys addicted to…

I thought that my own pressure was already sufficiently low, dealing with the indifferent two people sitting on the sofa.

Just when I was about to make my move and snatch away with iPads, Xia Yan suddenly gave a proud laugh towards Youyou.

Xia Yan: Did you see the time? 10 minutes, 9:42 seconds. Faster than you by three whole minutes. Do you give in?

Mu Ziyou: …

Xia Yan: You should tell me now – why did you hack into the big data lab? Exactly what suspicious points does Kong Moli’s case have?

Xia Yan: Where did you get the evidence clues that you put back in the loft?

Xia Yan: And the password cylinder – what’s the password, and what’s installed inside?

Mu Ziyou: …

Mu Ziyou stared at Xia Yan once, still refusing to open his mouth.

Xia Yan: Jeez, this kid – a man should be willing to pay if he’s agreed to the bet.

Xia Yan: We just agreed that whoever lost would answer all the other person’s questions. It was clearly you who lost, alright?

MC: Xia Yan, can you explain to me exactly what you two are doing?

Xia Yan: Don’t we have a heap of questions to ask this kid? But he won’t open his mouth no matter what.

Xia Yan: So I just made a bet with him. Who would’ve thought that he would refuse to acknowledge his loss…

MC: What did you two bet?

Xia Yan: Whoever can break into the big data lab’s basic-level firewall faster.

MC: …

What did Lu Jinghe do wrong? What did the big data lab do wrong again...?

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, it won’t damage the big data lab’s systems.

Xia Yan: I also chose this to give him a break – after all, he’s more used to the systems of the big data centre.

MC: (What you say has logic. You could even talk the sky to death…)

Youyou, having heard what Xia Yan said, shot him an even colder glance, lowered his head, poking at the iPad without a word.

MC: Youyou, do you still remember me?

MC: We’ve met at the beginning when your adoptive mother came to consult about adoption procedures. At that time, you still called her Auntie Moli.

I cold-shouldered Xia Yan on the side, walking up to Youyou, squatting and tilting my head up. In an instant, I actually had somewhat of a feeling that while things hadn’t changed, he had.

He was still that child who disliked interacting with others, but that woman that he cherished with all his heart had already left from the earth forever.

I didn’t know where or when it was that Kong Moli had met Youyou.

But she officially finished adoption procedures around the end of July last year.

By my calculations, the time for which Youyou had a family was actually just over a month…

MC: Youyou, are you hungry…

I inadvertently took a glance – the pattern on the inside of Youyou’s left arm grabbed my attention.

INSPECTION START

“3” Tattoo

MC: (This child’s arm has… the number 3? Looks like it was burned on?)

MC: (My god, it couldn’t be that someone deliberately burned it on, right…)

MC: (I’ve heard that some human traffickers will give a number to trafficked children. Youyou couldn’t be…)

MC: (What exactly has he gone through…)

Sallow cheeks, bad facial colour reason:

> Insufficient nutrition

> Negatively affected by medicines

MC: (Why is Youyou so thin? Typical children will have some baby fat, yet his cheeks…)

MC: (Lawyer Zuo and I have gone to that orphanage before. Child abuse is something that definitely wouldn’t happen there…)

MC: (Could it be that Youyou originally had a weak constitution?)

MC: (He should still be going under treatment for his autism, right? Could it be that the medicines negatively affected his development?)

MC: (How about we send him to Dr. Mo tomorrow. Perhaps there will be a better treatment method.)

Height

MC: (Youyou is already 10, why do I feel that he’s a lot shorter than boys the same age as him…)

MC: (There are many secrets hidden on this child. If he’s not willing to talk, it’s best to not force him.)

INSPECTION END

Mu Ziyou: Get revenge for mom. I’ll give you two the password of the password cylinder.

MC: Revenge?!

Such a term coming from a child’s mouth – I felt inevitably frightened.

Xia Yan’s and my eyes met. Looking from his eyes, I could see that his way of thinking was the same as mine.

Xia Yan: Mu Ziyou, do you understand what you are saying?

Mu Ziyou: Qin Shan is almost dead. When he dies, mom will be forever hated by people.

Mu Ziyou: The things you need are in the password cylinder.

Mu Ziyou: Get revenge for mom. I’ll give you these things.

#tears of themis #tot translation #weiding shijian bu #未定事件簿 #Why do I just like the guys with motorcycles who are agents for big organizations? First Gavin now Xia Yan…#xia yan

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