#The worst part is that because this has been sitting in my drafts for so long the joke became an unironic headcanon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maple-the-awesome · 6 months

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Twilight's Calling ||

Pairing: Twilight x GN! Reader

Words: 2,544

Requested by anonymous: Heeey. First of I love your writing style! It’s just amazing! Cause twilight is my fav. could you maybe write something like xreader with him, for example they’re in a battle or smth? Only if it’s okay ofc! Thanks a lot and have a good day and week! best wishes :) Twilight may or may not be my favorite Link, too (TP was the first game I finished, so I'm a little bias, okay?). I've had this draft lying around unfinished for awhile, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to finish it. Here you go, hun 💜

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It's getting pretty late. 'Late' as in the sun has long set and the last time you saw any of the boys was about an hour ago when Time finally managed to herd the remaining stragglers out of the room, although he was being a bit hypocritical seeing as he still lingered in the doorway for a good minute himself afterwards (not that you dared comment on it).

Since their heavy footsteps had faded into silence - and aside from the innkeeper sometimes shuffling down the hall or a sudden 'pop' of the bedside candle - you've been left entirely alone with your thoughts as they dance on the very edge of sleep, but you refuse to lose balance. It's your shift. You promised to be a good lookout and it took a lot of convincing to even get the position, so you can't disappoint no matter how heavy the weight upon your eyelids or heart is.

You've always been well aware of the risks that would come with this mission and from traveling alongside nine heroes of legend; troublesome young men and boys who can definitely handle themselves in battle, however none immune to making possible mistakes. You expected one to occur at some point, yet never wanted the aftermath to be anything too serious.

Wild getting a decent scar on his forehead was a scare when it initially happened, but he was back on his feet within the hour - less than that actually, because if you remember correctly, his quick recovery had been controversial and resulted in quite a bit of bickering. The bottom line is that Wild bounced back with little to no trouble thanks in part to his thick skull. This is different. Twilight has yet to follow his protege's example and it's been hours.

You must admit you underestimated the situation at first due to a lack of context. It's not to say you didn't care about Wolfie when he got struck, however there's a notable difference between a wild 'pet' that occasionally trails your group and the very man you've grown to secretly admire over the months you've spent traveling together. If you had known then that they are one of the same, you would've likely shared a similar level of panic as the Champion, but instead you were left in the dark until Four finally explained Twilight's secret to you.

Even at that moment, although more worried, you figured everything would be okay. Wolfie or Twilight, a fairy should be able to do the trick to heal the worst of injuries, so one can imagine your heartbreak once learning that, for some odd reason, the state of his wounds haven't changed even under a fairy's sacred touch. That's when you truly became fearful, but you refused to show it outwardly - no more than whatever made itself present on your face, anyway.

Making a fuss won't aid Twilight's condition nor will it calm the concerns of your friends, so instead you had mostly stayed out of the way until Time announced everyone should get some rest. At that point, you made your presence known, quick to shoot your hand into the air while volunteering to take the first shift for watching over Twilight. Champion was the only one to fight you for it and honestly, you still aren't certain how you won the argument, but here you are, sitting quietly at Twilight's bedside while trying desperately to keep yourself from descending into madness as you fret over his well-being.

He's doing somewhat better after Hyrule's magic managed to stop most of the bleeding, however his wound remains deep without any further healing progress and his skin is drained into a pale, sickly color clear even through the dim glow of candle light. He looks like shit and you'd guess he feels like it, too, seeing as his face curls into a pained expression every now and again, a whispered groan leaving him whenever he slightly shifts his body (not that he moves that much).

It's gotten a bit chilly tonight, however all blankets in the room have been laid over him and you refuse to swoop as low as to steal comfort from a dying man, so you simply keep huddled to yourself, half praying the next shift will come sooner and half praying it won't because a stubbornness inside you is somehow convinced that the simple act of you being here will keep himsafe from death's hands.

You don't pay much attention to the quiet groan that comes from the bed, having already bitterly accepted that there's nothing that can ease whatever pain haunts Twilight during his nightmares, although you do lift your head when a hand shakes its way into view, barely able to carry itself to the edge of the covers where it collapses with a broken echo from its owner, "W...What time is it?"

You almost cry simply by the sight of Twilight's dull eyes staring up at you, half-lidded and only appearing bright if compared to the dark bags hiding underneath them, but you manage to hold back the tears for the sake of not scaring him.

"I-I'm not sure. After sunset," You answer slowly as to prevent any wobbling to your voice.

"And the others? Is every - everyone else okay?" Hylia, he sounds awful, his once handsome, accent-laced voice butchered by a hollow croak.

"Yeah...Yeah, we're all okay - and don't worry about the shadow. Wild managed to take it down - thanks to you tiring it out, I'd say. You sure gave that thing a run for its money there," You attempt to joke lamely. Although your laugh doesn't carry much life to it, Twilight's expression does soften a tad after the sound.

"...Good..." Is all he says before closing his eyes with a sigh through his nose. Meanwhile you fidget nervously, debating with yourself on whether you should let the conversation die off so that he can continue getting rest or keep him talking while he's able to. You sure do love hearing his voice, after all, no matter how broken it may be; it reminds you that someone as great as him is actually real and, after recent events, still alive.

In the midst of your depressed thoughts, you notice Twilight reach his hand out towards you again - or at least it looks like he's trying to. Really, he only has the strength to lift it palm-up slightly off the covers, yet you understand this movement's wordless request. Ever so gently, as if he's made of glass, you take his hand and sandwich it between both of yours. He's a bit too cold for your liking, a sharp contrast to his normally warm touch, not that you draw attention to that worrying detail.

"...Is there anything I can get you?"

He tries to shake his head, but loses will halfway through the action and instead chooses to simply let his head lull to the side towards you. From there he stares for a bit longer than he means to, his dazed brain struggling to process his thoughts at its usual speed.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," You allow a small smile, slowly reaching forward to help move his bangs away from his face, "We're all taking shifts throughout the night. I was just lucky enough to get the first."

Twilight hums, closing his eyes for a brief second when your fingers brush his forehead, "How'd you manage that?"

"Barely. For a second there, I thought I was gonna have to duel the Champion for it - had my hand on my sword and everything before he finally caved," Twilight makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh which makes your smile more genuine even if he does flinch in pain immediately afterwards, "The real question is how I won against Time...Actually, I wouldn't be that surprised if he's secretly standing outside the door as we speak."

A creak of old floorboards in the hallway makes your eyes dart to the door, almost expecting the man in question to walk in and call you out for your jokes, yet you calm that doesn't happen. Twilight brings your attention back to him by moving his thumb against your hand, "Don't tell 'em, but I'm glad it's you here. I like having ya' here with me..."

You press your lips, hoping it'll help you ignore the heat against your cheeks. That must be the first time Twilight has ever openly said he 'likes' anything related to you; you're certain you'd remember any other instances of such a milestone. It might not be the exact sentence you'd want him to use the word in, but it's a step in the right direction, so you'll take it.

"I like having you here with me, too, Twi...which is why I've officially decided that I'm too selfish to let you die on any of us. I don't care if I have to fist-fight Hylia for it; I'm not letting you get out of this journey so easily."

"That right?"

"I swear it on my life."

He chuckles weakly, although the sound is taken over by a fit of coughing. Promptly you pour a small glass of water using the pitcher kept on the bedside table before gently helping him sit up to take a careful sip.

It's insane for you to think that only a few weeks ago, you had been secretly watching him move hay bales at Time's place effortlessly. Now he lies here in bed struggling to hold a conversation, his muscles shaking horribly by the simply action of prompting himself up even slightly. Seeing him like this makes you feel awful, but you also consider yourself blessed to be the one taking care of him during a low point like this, ensuring that he's properly cared for and tended to almost like a spouse would.

"Seems like I'm starting to lose you, farm boy. You should relax and get some more sleep," He makes a face and seems prepared to argue, however he must not have been able to think of anything convincing to say - that or the aching in his bones has become too hard to ignore. Either way, instead of saying a word, Twilight nods droopily before inching his way back down against his soft pillow while you fix the blankets over him again.

"Look on the bright side: make it through this and you'll probably get special treatment from here on out. Get your bags carried for you, have whatever meals you're craving be made each night...If you hobble around a little I'm sure you could even get Time to fuss over you -"

" - And what about you?" Twilight quizzes and you can't tell if he's being serious or just teasing. It feels like the latter, yet the way he watches you while awaiting your reply makes you feel another way; soft and warm, but a tad anxious at the same time, "What can I get from you?"

You pretend to think, although in truth, you already know there wouldn't be any limitations for what you're willing to give. If he asked for the world right now, you'd figure out some way to gift wrap it for him...but that's too embarrassing to admit aloud, "...Depends on what you're thinking and if you can swing it the right way."

He hums, once again staring at you just long enough to make that anxious feeling really prominent. Is there something on your face that no one told you about earlier? Is he judging your messy hairdo that you had no time to fix since the battle? Did you sound too flirtatious in your answer? Maybe his injury has given him the ability to read minds, so now he knows just how desperate you are to earn his affections!

"...If I asked you to stay with me, would you?" Twilight whispers so quietly that you barely hear, yet you do.

"I, uh...Time will be here in an hour or so for his shift, but I won't go anywhere until then, okay?" Not even your poor excuse at smiling can save your stumbled words, yet you pray he doesn't look beyond either. He's loopy from such a stressful day, so it makes sense that he's have trouble properly wording questions. It also makes sense for him to be scared to be left alone - anyone would be in such a state. He doesn't have to worry, though; between you and the boys, someone will always be by his side throughout the night. You'd expect that knowledge to be a relief for him, however Twilight only frowns and looks away with a surprisingly depressed look in his eyes.

Fiddling nervously with your hands upon your lap, you ask carefully, "...Unless you're wanting me to watch over your for the whole night? In that case, I wouldn't mind staying if it would make you feel better. I'm sure the others would be fine with it if they could just check in here and there."

Twilight presses his lips, refusing to look directly at you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that based on his continued reaction, you're still somehow missing the point of his question, yet no matter how much you rack your brain, you can't think of what else he would've possibly meant.

You were tempted to ask for more clarity, but Twilight speaks before you can, "...I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

He nods bashfully which melts your heart in a way you're sure would be shamefully clear if he were only looking in your direction.

"...Well, since you took one for the team -" Scooting your chair closer to the bed allows you to cross your arms over the mattress and rest your head on top of them. Desperately you try to ignore your nerves and the cute way Twilight curiously looks over at you, "- I'll stay for the night if you promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me, too? Without you, I might just loose my mind. Don't tell anyone else, but you don't drive me nearly as insane as some of the other boys do," not in the same way at least.

The corner of Twilight's lips turn upwards, his hand taking it's time to move over yours. The second it makes contact, you take the chance to hold onto it, "...Sounds like a deal..."

You match his smile easily, "Get some sleep, Twi. I'll be right here when you wake up, so just focus on getting better for me, alright?"

He hums one last time, drifting off to sleep as commanded where he seems to be far more peaceful than earlier. As promised, you remain by his side until morning, eventually falling victim to quick naps yourself only disrupted whenever someone else sneaks into the room to see how things are going. You're certain you'll be tired tomorrow with an aching back after spending an entire night hunched over, but that's a small price to pay for someone like Twilight. It'll all be worth it to see him recover, granting you even more time to spend by his side through thick and thin.

#x reader #reader insert #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda #linked universe x reader #link x reader #linked universe #lu twilight x reader

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cosmetichorror · 1 year

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Okay so I’ve hit a mini writers block, so I was scrolling through my drafts for inspo and found this masterpiece.

I’ve never seen the post this oneshot was inspired off of in person, but I’ve seen screenshots, so it’s based off of this

Hope you know I was laughing the whole time I was writing this

—

"THIS IS THE WORST HYRULE WE'VE BEEN IN!" Wind exclaims, startling everyone out of their thoughts.

They're in a new hyrule, and they know there's a Link somewhere. It's like a fucked up game of hide and seek, or where's Waldo. But the longer you take to seek out Waldo the longer all of your Hyrules are in danger. And the worst part? There isn't a village ANYWHERE!

"Don't be rude, Wind." Time scolds, glaring at the teen.

Legend shakes his head "No, no. He has a point." He looks around "While this place is pretty, we're low on supplies and there's not a village in sight." He points out. Wars nods along to this.

"We're on a path, there's got to be one near." Four speaks up, arms crossed.

Despite this, they continued to walk for hours.

The orange sun has begin to set, casting a shadow on hyrule as the moon begins to rise, but Hylia has apparently taken mercy upon them, because distantly they see what appears to be a village. Many sighs of relief and mummers of thanks to the gods are sent, and the chain has a new pep in their step.

It’s a quaint village, with a nice dirt road and cute little houses, alongside what appears to be some statues in the center of all of it. They agree to start at the center where the statues are, and make their way around gathering supplies and finding an inn- if there even is one, that is.

But as they walk closer to the statues, they begin to take a familiar shape. But soon enough, they see exactly why that is.

"Is that.." Time stares in awe. Jaws are dropped, eyes are bulging, and all sense of frustration from the long journey is swept away by pure bewilderment.

There in the middle of the town stood several statues, nine of them to be exact. Eight of them were shockingly familiar, though the tallest one was a stranger to them, we'll focus on that one after.

There was a statue of each of them. Time, Twilight, Legend, Warriors, Hyrule, Four, and Sky. The details aren't exactly accurate, their faces don't match very well but the clothes are very accurate much to their surprise. They know they've been reduced to fairytales across many time periods, but never have they had statues built for them.

"What. The fuck?" Legend manages to make out.

Time doesn't even censor him. He's far too flabbergasted to even bother.

"That can't be us, can it?" Sky mumbles out, walking up and running a hand along his statue. It's high quality metal, but despite that it shows age. These must have been here for ages.

An elderly lady that sits in a chair not far from the statues watches them, her aged eyes never leaving them. They can understand why, not every day you see a group of such well versed warriors after all.

She watches them carefully, and the group notices. They exchange strange glances but other then that stay relatively in their conversation about what these statues could mean, although they've quieted down.

Then, the old lady gasps, and she shakily runs as quickly as she can up to the chain.

"You are the hero's of old!" She cries out, and Sky sputters. "I- well, uh- maybe??” He knows there's no point in trying to hide it when there are literals statues built of them, albeit not completely accurate.

"They have returned to us! What foe have you come to defeat, old great ones!" The elderly lady cries out, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I have heard tales of you from my mother and grandmother! I never imagined I would have the honors of meeting you, oh great heros!" She exclaims, falling to her knees in front of them.

People begin to gather around, walking out of their houses to see if it really was true. Kids hide behind their parents legs, mothers and fathers weep in joy, people bow their head in respect to them. Meanwhile, most of the chain had never been so uncomfortable in their entire lives.

"Uhm, hi?" Time greets, waving a hand. "You uh, you don't need to bow to us, ma'am." He speaks, helping the elderly lady up off the ground.

"You built STATUES for us?!" Wind exclaims, practically bouncing on his heels. "Hah, wait till I tell Tetra about this!" He smiles, nudging Wars.

News has quickly spread through the village, and people have started running out of their houses offering food and gifts. Apples upon apples, pots upon pots- how did they know they like pots??

"Of course we built statues! How else would we send our thanks to you for your heroism!" A women in the crowd calls out, and several mummers of agreement are heard.

"They must be here to bless us and this land!"

"No, they're here to take our offerings and answer our prayers!"

"They're here to gift us with their wisdom and courage!"

"Perhaps they're here to bless our dearest hero and savior?"

They chain pause at that last bit.

"Dearest hero and savior you say?" Wars hums, before nodding. "Yes, we're here for... the last one. We must meet with the hero of this time." He speaks, looking around at the chain, who nod along to him.

"Yes. That is correct, where is he?" Four asks.

The crowd laughs a little bit, nudging each other and mummering.

"Oh, great old ones! Locating the hero is nearly impossible! He never stays in one place for too long, such is the ways of the hero!" A father calls out, cradling his newborn in his arms.

"I'm sure if you just wait, he will stop by. Our dearest hero is always so smart, he always seems to know exactly when people need his aid!" The elderly women speaks, patting Fours head, who sends the elderly women the harshest glare he can muster.

The father that was speaking just a second ago walks up, and holds his baby out to Sky. "Would you please bless my daughter, oh great and wise hero of Skies? I wish her to prosper in life!" He begs. And just like that, the crowd stirs wildly.

"Wait, please, bless my mother for good health, oh hero of Hyrule!"

"Hero of the Four sword, would you bless my weapons for strength!"

"Oh great hero of Time, please, bless my grandfather with more time on this earth!"

"Hero of the Wind, please come bless my boat!"

"Bless our fighters, strong hero of Wars!"

"Hey! Listen! Please bless my farm for good crops and livestock, hero of Twilight!"

"Hero of Legends! Please bless my son for safe travels, won't you?"

As if things couldn't get and weirder, they just did.

"You want us to... bless you?" Wind mumbles, thoroughly confused.

The chain look between themselves, no one quite sure what to say. What does one say when they're quite literally being worshiped? No amount of monster fighting, god slaying, hyrule saving experience prepared them for this.

"Of course! Why else would you be here?" A young teen calls out.

Time takes this opportunity to get a little closer to their goal. "Well, we're hunting strangely strong monsters that bleed black. You wouldn't happen to know of any of these, would you?"

A man in the crowd calls out "Some monsters have been more bold lately!" And several mummers of agreement are heard.

A women wielding a pitchfork lazily in one hand speaks up next. “I fought one of them monsters just a few days ago, and it bled black! Just like you said!”

“Please, this is why we need your blessings!” A young women cries, and the entire crowd seems to agree.

Sky looks to Time, who looks to Wars who in turn looks to Legend, who turns to Hyrule who nudges Four, who looks at Wind who then turns to Twilight, who shrugs.

“Uhm… I, uh… Guess we have some time to kill? Might as well?” Sky says, more of a question then a statement. Time looks around, and nods.

“Okay.. Uh, we’ll bless you.” He decides. The crowd cheers, and people run up with babies in hand, shoving them out for the hero’s to take. Wind happily took the strangers babies, he was used to holding little ones after all. He somehow had three babies at once. Time had two. Legend held the infant he had in front of him, not quite sure what to do with it. Four had a toddler, Twilight had… four babies? Are they not concerned about him dropping them? Erm, anyways… Hyrule held one baby, and stared at it all wide eyed as if it was a bomb that would go off at any moment. I mean, that is sort of how babies work. Wars had two toddlers propped up on his shoulders, and one of which had his scarf in its mouth. Wars could do nothing about this. Sky held a six year olds hand, and the six year old stared up at him all wide eyed.

But now came the real question. How exactly do they bless these kids? Wind decided he would be the one to set up how to bless people. He stood out in front of everyone else and made sure they were watching. He simply kissed the babies foreheads, mumbled something under his breath and then walked back up to the babies mother. “Consider your kids blessed!” The mother gratefully takes back the kids with tears in her eyes. “Oh thank you, wise hero of the Winds!”

The rest of the chain looks at each other, and shrugs, deciding to follow in Winds footsteps. Baby forehead after baby forehead was kissed, then they had to move onto the teens, which was pretty awkward considering half of them are teenagers as well. After that, they had to bless weapons, and houses and boats and even animals. In short, a lot of things were kissed that day. And yet, still no sign of the hero of this land.

Thankfully, they were offered a free stay at the inn, but they were still frustrated.

Morning came early the next day. Children played about in the streets, farmers tended to their crops, but most importantly someone stood beside their bedsides. He was a blond teen with nasty scaring on half of his face, he was missing an ear and had long blond hair, he bore a vibrant blue tunic and a cape with a hood. He looks at the chain, then peers out the window to the statues, then back at the chain. And the chain immediately realizes this is the hero they’re looking for. Mainly because the tallest statue look exactly like him.

“You’re Link, right?” Sky sits up. The new hero nods, looking back at the statues again in pure bewilderment.

“And you’re… the hero’s of old?” He clarifies. Wind nods.

“That’s us!” The teen responds.

“Soo…” the new hero starts. “They gave you the worshipping treatment too?”

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ivysangel · 1 month

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I am dead serious when I say that you guys need to start giving writers feedback more often. I have a fic here that has a total of 4015 notes and only 218 aren't likes. So, let me break this down for you a bit.

Of 4015 notes, 186 are reblogs and 32 are comments. Two reblogs, as well as comments, are mine so I'll subtract them from the equation making the total number of notes 4011 (184 rbs, 30 comments, 3,797 likes).

Of the 184 reblogs, 16 are private, meaning they're absolutely useless in spreading and sharing the piece. The remaining 168 consists of 136 reblogs falling under "other reblogs" while only 32 fall under "comments and tags." And of the 32 under "comments and tags," only 9 have something besides a copy of the tags that I included in my initial post.

The 184 reblogs make up 4.6% of the total notes, the reblogs under "comments and tags" make up 0.8% of the total notes, and the reblogs under "comments and tags" with anything besides tags copied from the initial post make up 0.2% of the total notes.

At one point, I reblogged the post, asking if anyone wanted a part two. That's when I got my first comments. The first 6 comments were in response to that, and of the 30 total comments (excluding my own), only two were unrelated to a part two. Which means I can guarantee that I wouldn't have had that many comments had I not posed the question of a sequel fic.

And if I add those 2 comments to the 9 reblogs, I get 0.3% of the total notes on my post that make up the portion of notes that aren't likes, empty reblogs, or comments about a part two. And that's me being generous because two of the reblogs actually do mention a part two.

I also posted a poll asking what people wanted in part two, and that poll got 238 votes. That is 54 people more who voted for what they wanted in a part two that didn't reblog or help push part one.

Don't get me wrong, I love seeing people in my notifs liking my posts, but sometimes it's just not enough. It is utterly exhausting waking up to multiple hundreds of notifications and not seeing a single person compliment your work. You guys will like stuff, follow, and then head straight to the inbox asking for more. I know it's been said a hundred times before, but we are not machines; we do this for free in our spare time.

The post in question was written when I was tired out of my mind, and I ended up not liking it, so I let it sit in my drafts. I briefly mentioned it on my blog and was met with one of my followers showing interest in the idea, which prompted me to revise, edit, and post it. It was a gift, as are all fics and pieces of art by writers and artists on this site, and yet it was treated like a commodity.

When people say it's unmotivating they're not kidding. When I had 100+ asks in my inbox, all of them being requests, I felt like I had the worst case of writers block known to man. I would open my inbox and immediately close it because the idea of posting anything knowing the only response would be more requests, was awful.

When people leave little messages in the tags, full-blown commentary, or kind messages in my inbox referencing posts, I feel more motivated than ever. Those responses are what drives me to write more. But when I, and other writers, are being treated like we're here to cook up whatever fantasisies you have in mind, I can't help but side-eye a little.

We wouldn't write if we didn't enjoy it, but the moment it feels like a job, it becomes that much less enjoyable, and then everybody loses. Just send a kind message to your favorite writers every once in a while. I promise it'll make their day.

I would also like to say that as I've written this, I've seen more people like that post. So, there's that.

#i hope this makes sense #it's 5 am and i haven't slept yet #★ just yappin ★

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what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew · 5 months

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A Critique of Riordan's: Neurodivergency

tldr: Rick made ADHD and dyslexia superpowers in the books which fit the time he wrote the books, but it's not accepted now cause it diminishes neurodivergent struggle. At the same time he made autism coded characters the 'annoying' ones and had a very racist thing of having the only neurotypical be Frank.

He tried to fix it in the show. It worked for about 3 seconds.

TW: Ableism, Autism speaks mention, r slur, anti-schizo stuff.

This paragraph is useless so don't read if you don't want to: Sitting in my drafts are 3 different 'A critique of Riordan's' posts i made as i tried to redo my full critique of the Riordanverse with a little more positive feedback and a little less Rick Riordan is the devil spawn. I have decided to not do it in order because because i watched the show and i noticed some things which were iffy and others which were great. So yeah neurodivergency first. Enjoy and think Critically.

Books

Research and Diversity

The books were written in the early 2000s for Rick's son who has ADHD and dyslexia

As a result, it takes on a very "your ADHD and dyslexia is a superpower" message which were popular during the time, but we recognise now has delegitimised neurodivergent struggles

Also as a result, the books were very focused on his son's symptoms, and represented ADHD as a monolith which quickly turned into stereotypes (e.g jumpy, impatient and fast reflexes becoming the connecting feature of half-bloods)

It got so unresearched that at one point he said:

He also talks about coffee in a similar way, despite sugar and coffee not making us more hyperactive and instead making us sleepy. Unless all the scientists and people with ADHD are wrong i really don't know this works.

and also said this: "Leo was extremely ADHD even by demigod standards" Like what

But the worst part about the PJO books was that the neurodivergency was limited to the first book. Percy's ADHD and dyslexia magically vanish and honestly it's only really brought back up in HOO every now and then (not very well might i add)

Ways he could have improved:

He could have given other characters, like Annabeth, more diverse symptoms of ADHD. It wasn't that hard, For Annabeth recognise that she as a 'gifted kid' is more likely to have undiagnosed and so have to face the issues related to being undiagnosed and/or being both a gifted kid and having ADHD, and then also give her more symptoms common to girls like being really chatty or frequently daydreaming.

Continuing having ADHD (and dyslexia) as constant parts of the novels rather than throwaway lines. Build it into the characters actions and persona rather than add it on like an accessory

Research. Never stop researching. Always reach out to people with the disorders and ask them to help. Writing is nothing without research.

Get sensitivity readers

Grammar

This is really minor, but he keeps say ____ was ADHD, and like gramattically that's a no. I am not a disorder i am a person with a disorder . Note for autism, the prefered grammer is Autistic person (aka turn into adjective and describe, something we can't do with ADHD)

Nico and Leo

Making Leo and Nico the 2 characters who were annoying and unlikeable (to everyone else not to fans) was really weird cause these 2 characters were the autistic coded ones.

NOTE: I did see a post explaining it better in the past, and i will link it when/if i find it again.

Tyson and the R Slur

I genuinely think he tried to make the r-slur scene show that it was bad, but the way Percy reacted to it wasn't quite right. Especially for childrens books these things need to be really clear. So it was good to make a bad bully character who was hated say it, but he could have made it better by skipping Percy saying "He’s not r*tarded" and go straight to "I had to try really, really hard not to punch Sloan the face."

The scene was ok, it could have been better, but again these were written in the 2000s, we have to acknowledge that.

Percy and School

Now this is interesting because this is more recent. Percy tried really hard in school and was smart, it was part of his characterisation. But he never did well in school, because that's how his disability affected him (especially since it was the American school system which we all know is shit and even more shit for people with learning disabilities).

The problem stems from TSATS, where Percy is made out to skip school, and not try at all (feeds into people with ADHD do bad cause they don't try/are lazy)

credits to @aroaceleovaldez

Racism: Frank Zhang

Frank Zhang the only Asian member of the 7 has no form of neurodivergency, despite the rest of them all having. It must be a just coincidence that there's a stereotype that asians are really smart and good at maths and the fact that the rest of the Romans have dyscalculia/s.

It's not weird at all that the character instead has lactose intolerance, which is really common in East Asia unlike dyslexia, ADHD or dyscalculia, which has such a low rate of diagnosis because there is a large stigma behind the disorders and because white people don't think Asians can have learning disabilities/s. No not weird at all that the dude is described with symptoms of dyspraxia but Rick refuses to recognise he is not neurotypical/s

I'm stepping out of sarcasm speak to remind you that Asians with learning disabilities are significantly less likely to get diagnosed with anything because:

because their parents won't let them until they have no other choice (glares at my parents) because there's a massive stigma behind intellectual/learning/development disorders in these communities

When we do try to get diagnosed our claims are diminished because of racist stereotypes and the belief that booksmarts/giftedness = no learning disability. It means most psychologists and psychiatrists (who are usually white) think that all Asians are smart so they don't ever have any form of neurodivergency and we're left to struggle.

Schizo Rep

Octavian. Villain. Schizo. Again.

Do i even need to explain this?

Show

Not actually a specific disorder - Percy just has a learning disability

Interestly Percy's dyslexia is just never talked about, And even his ADHD is never mentioned by name. He's got a random learning disorder which isn't specified. At first i assumed it was still ADHD cause the books, but watching more, you realise they aren't actually focusing on what learning disorder he has and what he has to deal with as a result of that. It's just a generic learning disorder.

Which is weird because learning disorders are all different and we all face different things, even with the same disorder. So placing all learning disorders in the same group? not good. Don't know what i expected from disney, but it wasn't this.

Autism Speaks

So the show tried to acknowledge that Percy was constantly told he was special and heroic when he really wanted to have help for his issues and for people to recognise that he has problems and those are bad. It also represented less stereotypical adhd symptoms (though whether that's because the disorder is no longer adhd or whether they wanted more inattentive symptoms to be present, we'll never know)

but then it went ahead and used a broken puzzle metaphor for his neurodivergency?

Puzzle piece metaphors when talking about any form of neurodivergency are a no go because the creators of the metaphor literally want Autistic people dead.

I DON'T GIVE A SHIT THAT HE DOESN'T HAVE AUTISM, WE ARE NOT ALLIES TO THE AUTISM COMMUNITY IF WE USE THE LANGUAGE AUTISM SPEAKS CREATED

Not only that but a broken puzzle is not a good way to represent us anyways because NEURODIVERGENTS AREN'T BROKEN.

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stirthewaters · 7 months

Text

A little drabble for my lovelies while I’m writing. This has been stuck in my drafts for like a year and a half and I lost motivation so go nuts. This could possibly be a TSTT au?

Sleep

Word count: maybe 500 idk

Warnings: uhhh sickies

Pairing: Wednesday x Reader

You're sick. Not just your average run-of-the-mill, common cold sick either. You're sick. You have a high fever, and the worst chills you've ever experienced in your life. Luckily for you, you have someone to take care of you. And it's the person everyone would least expect.

Wednesday Addams; your girlfriend, had 'begrudgingly' agreed to take care of you, but you knew otherwise. You could tell from the way that she would sit by your bedside for hours at night, watching you to make sure you actually slept, that she did in fact care, despite her claims. Her twist on this was this; you were her partner. She needed you to get better simply because not only did Enid miss your sickening presence in their shared dorm, but you were missing classes, as well as having the worst self-care she'd ever seen. Wednesday repeatedly told herself this; not that it was because just the sight of you sitting in bed looking pale and helpless made her dark heart twist. Sure, she was your girlfriend, but the need to take care of you and make you better makes her miserable. So it wasn't too bad.

Most of the time she didn't need to be there; you took your pills when needed, drank plenty of water, and got rest. You should've been fine. What she didn't expect was for your fever to somehow get worse.

The fact that you had a lack of self-care already made her want to snap at you, to make you admit to yourself that you needed to get better. That you needed to take some responsibility. That you mattered.

But for the most part, she just told you to take your pills, rest, and eat the soup that she would bring occasionally. It wasn't too bad, since most of the time you were reasonable and compliant.

But tonight, Wednesday simply could not tolerate you.

You woke from fever, grimacing and head swimming; deliria was the most common symptom these nights. You take a minute to drink in your surroundings. You had been moved to Wednesday's dorm a couple of nights ago; she had claimed that it was because you couldn't be trusted alone, but you knew otherwise.

Your vision was screwed up too; all peripheral vision was out the window, and dots flashed in your vision every time you moved.

Had you been thinking normally, you would've gone back to sleep.

But with a 103 degree fever, and delirium sinking faster than the Titanic, you only have one thought. One need. Water. You turn to the nightstand, but only a small bottle of Tylenol sits there. And no water? Grimacing with frustration and pain, you slowly peel back the hot covers, letting out a faint sigh of relief at the coolness that encompassed your flushed skin. You were wearing...Wednesday's pajamas? The material was surprisingly soft, and black. Typical. You looked around for Wednesday, assuming she'd be in the room, but she was nowhere to be found. Enid isn't present either. Odd.

You slowly push your way out of the bed, body shaking from being too hot and cold all at once. Your nerves feel alive. Tumbling as soon as your legs try to hold your weight, you let out a startled and hoarse cry, cursing softly as you find yourself face down on the floorboards.

You push yourself upwards, groaning with pain and dizziness to find yourself face to face with Wednesday, looking at you with her typical deadpan that is laced slightly with annoyance. "In bed. Now." Normally you'd oblige to this request; you've known not to get on Wednesday's bad side. But the delirium is refusing to allow you to see common knowledge, and you sit there on the dorm floor, frowning slightly as if trying to remember who she is. "What?"

Sighing with frustration, Wednesday grabs your wrist, hauling you onto your feet. Shaking, you find yourself leaning on her so much that she almost stumbles, but she regains her footing quickly and pinches her eyebrows together. "Y/N." Turning your head to look at her, you shake your head slightly, pulling away from her, though her grip is too tight. Not painful, just tight. As if to ground you. "I have to...I need the um..." You're stammering now; you needed something. What was it again? That's why you had woken up, wasn't it? Looking mildly upset, you try to pull back again, but she simply sighs, as if this has happened before (which it most certainly has), and pushes you gently back onto her bed, though there is a bit of annoyance to the action. "Go back to sleep, now.”

You let out a delirious groan, not budging as you once more tried to leave the bed, only to be met with yet another refusal.

“Your fever is what’s affecting your common sense right now, you need to rest.” Wednesdays voice was tinged with irritation now as she placed a cold hand on your chest, making you flinch as she pushed you down into the covers. “I shall have no other choice than to watch you like a petulant child if you cannot refrain from disobedience.”

Your eyes were glazed, she could tell that there was simply nothing going on behind them. She couldn’t blame you; you were making it hard for yourself to heal and that was the issue at hand.

The Addams took a seat on her chair, watching you lay limply in her bed. If any good came out of this it would be the opportunity to scold you, which you absolutely deserved.

Her eyes never left you the whole night.

(Requests are open now, go shoot me some requests and I’ll crank them out. ✊)

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lxmelle · 2 months

Text

Geto was loved even in death.

Wouldn’t it be nice if he were judged by his intentions in the afterlife - wherever that was? He had suffered living with the love he had. We see through the eyes of those left behind, that the ill deeds didn’t define him, as strange as that may be to us as readers in the real human world we live in. Geto’s influence and loving nature were far reaching; Gege certainly made him so treasured by many even after his death. If Gojo was touched by his caring influence, this was also Geto’s will he passed onto his students.

NOT spoiler-free as I’ll be referring to the recent chapter, 255.

I wrote this the other day:

And honestly it’s long enough; here’s part 2.

Is it obvious I’m suffering from brainrot? All my drafts from jjk brainrot are rivalling my thesis/dissertation from way back (lol)

Here is more under the cut:

I’m really moved by the reasons for why Miguel and Larue have decided to join in the risky fight against Sukuna.

It’s very obvious that Miguel is reluctant at first. He says he he’d rather terrible curses arrive at his shores than to fight with Sukuna, adding that he doesn’t see himself having any ties with Japan any longer.

We can deduce that this was part of Gojo’s plan for the possibility that he dies/loses, and I had a post about this saved in my drafts - but I guess I never got around to finishing it. Basically, in sum, he will achieve giving Geto a cremation (avenging him) and gets to show off to his students (which he does enjoy) by going all out (soo satisfying), and in the worst case scenario, he loses but gets to go all out, weakens Sukuna (for the rest to handle), and idk if he really is that romantic (so it’s really stsg headcanon fantasising) he will die on the same day as Geto.

The Opening theme is rather beautiful in that it interprets Gojo having the words, “we’ll meet again” stuck in his throat, which he doesn’t say. But I’m a bit weird and tend to separate anime from manga. But it’s worth noting that here.

I digress. Back to Miguel and Larue who have moved to speak privately without Yuta.

In a previous post I wondered aloud about what Yuta knew about Geto from others aside from being villainous and I guess this implies he doesn’t know much, since he wasn’t close to Miguel enough to sit around to chat with them. It makes sense.

Miguel and Larue both agree they followed Geto in jjk 0 because they wanted to see him become King. What does this even mean, really? Gege, you’re missing stuff out again!

Nevertheless, we understand how reluctant Miguel was. He enquires that Larue intends to do, clarifying: is it for revenge or to take Geto’s body back?

And it seems like their main motivation for putting their lives on the line... is to honour Geto’s memory. Like a traditional ritual one makes for the dead (customary in Japan on death anniversaries - not limited to the year, but also number of days).

It’s incredibly moving how much they love him. This is actually what led Miguel to reconsider. We see him go silent as he thinks “...” before he reaches a moment of clarity/a decision.

Tbh I have issues with interpreting his statement in between the two panels (re: hell) in Japanese - it doesn’t directly indicate if he is referring to the former part of the conversation (whether he thinks Geto is in hell), or the latter (he thinks the battle will be hell). The phrasing goes like this: “no matter how I think about it: it’s hell.” - I’m not a native speaker so it’s difficult for me to be certain which is right. But the consensus is as translated above. Larue thinks Geto is in heaven, Miguel thinks it’s hell, and we see the airport scene where presumably Haibara and Riko with Kuroi have been there for over a decade. lol. Who knows!

So the bottom line is… regardless of where they think Geto ends up in the afterlife, Miguel is willing to give Geto a send off that’ll even reach hell. Or, despite it going to be hellish, he will do it. It also seems so heartwarming how they still emphasise family and friendship in wanting to fight together - perhaps things we can surmise had meant something to Geto.

They will fight Sukuna because it is for Geto. Geto was so loved that they would risk themselves - not for a title, not for revenge, but out of … love. Again. That’s pretty damn loving. Can we imagine what Geto did and was to them, for them to experience such loyalty and reverence?

Sadly, it goes without saying that Geto’s body being used as a vessel and puppet by Kenjaku has possibly evoked an emotional response by those who cared for him - namely Mimiko and Nanako, and also Gojo. Arguably, even if it were a death without his body being hijacked, Gojo did refuse to cremate his body or have it processed “by the book” of jjk high through Shoko. If that’s not out of a form of love (or “consideration” as Kenjaku put it), I don’t know what is.

The twins went against what Geto wanted for them (to carry out his will) to fight against immensely power beings in hopes they could bring him home. Those were their reasons to fight. Gojo scheduled 24th December - this was after he teleported to Kenjaku immediately upon unsealing so he could bury Geto. We saw Larue and Miguel’s. Toshihisa is alleged to be quite weak, and despite potentially being considered a son to Geto (if his life situation did mimic that of the twins’ - source: jjk character book), he opts to follow the inherited will as prescribed by Geto.

It’s all love. Geto was loved, I’m telling you. I want to shout if off the rooftops because that man just looked so darned sad and deranged after he lost it.

So. Continuing where I left off: Everyone thus far has had a reason to go into battle with Sukuna. I wonder what / who will actually reach him? I hope it’s Yuji ... and that Megumi will react again at some point. They have their own themes relating to love and purpose. I’ll leave them to someone else more familiar with their characters to write about!

And now I’m going offside quite a bit, but it’s still of relevance to Geto and the theme of love that seems to surround him. Way back to jjk 0 and Hidden inventory.

I wanted to just bring this into the picture as well now that I’m already writing a post on that topic, but please feel free to stop if you’re bored now.

So. Jjk 0!

There were direct parallels with Yuta & Rika and Gojo & Geto. This was also confirmed by the director when discussing their vision for the movie. The light novel also drew a link between Geto and Yuta where they were described as being too sincere for this world.

There is a direct theme of love - the type, is open to interpretation.

Kenjaku also makes reference to this in the Shibuya arc. So to me, it remains relevant. Love in its many forms is somewhere in what Gege wishes to convey thematically.

Within jjk 0, Geto seemed to pursue power but this was also a symbolism where power = love. It is twisted. In light of recent events, we know that the pursuit of power leads to the dilution and even absence of love. Love that gives birth to power becomes cursed. So it seems.

As we know, Yuta bound his lover to himself to gain power.

If only he had Rika (metaphor for love: Gojo) he probably wouldn’t have had to skulk around the shadows consuming curses which he hated doing. Geto was lamenting on the past in the above panels. He probably was determined to carry on, as he vouched to give it all he got (Haibara’s last words to him echoing here).

A flashback to the past:

Geto doesn’t do things in half-measures. To avoid hypocrisy, and I headcanon that it was a merciful killing to protect them from him, he kills his parents. To die by his hands than to be used as a pawn to get to him. For them to see the horrors their son could be capable of. It is so very wrong, and we can see the twisted nature of his love in this interpretation.

And Gojo delivers the ultimate blow that leads to Geto reflecting - depicted by the mysterious ellipses “…..” (gege really likes the reader to work hard huh) - insinuating it is impossible for Geto, so don’t even bother trying. The blossoming possibility of discourse was nipped, as the strength differential was implied - you’re the strongest now, whereas it used to be “we”. There was no more place for Geto; it was probably a misunderstanding. Gojo was protecting everyone in his own way, and the only way he knew how.

For power, Gojo was a source - but Geto couldn’t do that in Shinjuku, nor earlier in the arc, when Gojo himself was on the brink of insanity and deferred to Geto about annihilating humans as he held Riko’s dead body. Geto in the scene above acknowledges their different paths they needed to take - Gojo had a place as part of the elite at the school - Geto was already facing an execution order.

And after hearing Gojo’s condescending tone in an emotionally-fuelled attempt to reach out to him. He turns away to protect his friend from himself, and himself from his friend. Anyway, I touched on this in my previous post. Geto feels they had fought and didn’t deserve a place next to Gojo. But deep inside, even his body remembers the sound of Gojo’s voice, reacting to it when called despite his soul no longer being there.

sigh. Moving on... back to jjk 0:

After witnessing the bonds through willingness to sacrifice and the love between these students, Geto was really moved. Gojo trusted Geto retained his sense of humanity / love / idealism - even if it would lead to him sacrificing himself.

He was finding it difficult anyway:

He could always empathise with love. I suspect he tried his best, but the binding vow for Yuta’s life was also just the cherry on top to make Rika super saiyan.

Kenjaku knew Geto probably could’ve won though, had he been more selfish.

Geto conceded without a fight with Gojo. Maybe it was a matter of trust in that they both knew his living on borrowed time. As the light novel insinuated, this was the only way it could ever end. And Gojo would have to carry the curse that was Geto. This seems... so cruel.

He did his best. He perhaps always wanted the love but set it free.

He did so many things for others in spite of himself, in sacrificing himself, in staining himself with blood drenched hands.

Avenging Riko by killing Sonoda. Note how manipulative “humans” are by using Jujutsu rules against them.

He embraces a life of smoke and daggers. Living in lies and half truths in order to live, survive, and find justice in a wicked world.

Watch me closely, I’ll protect you, I’ll avenge you, this is how you protect yourself.

This is the path I’ve chosen.

I’m not saying he was right or justifiable. His character is just tragic. The system had set him and others to fail.

The worm foreshadows Geto’s maternal nature. Calling him “okaasan”. I mean, this very worm had a binding vow with Toji. And now it calls for a new owner? I’m not sure if Gege had anything else in mind with this... is the womb protrusion domain Geto’s? But that’s tied to a sorcerer’s soul…. Anyway, I digress again. (Sorry). Geto did have a martyr complex and was written captivatingly well by Gege. The extra touches where how he has been perceived by others and the effect he has (and continues to have) on those we see.

And I just want to leave this heartbreaking thing here:

Source from twitter/now X:

Wouldn’t it be so sweet for Geto to get one (love declaration) at the end of his life, regardless of the way you perceive Gojo and Geto’s relationship?

Wouldn’t it be nice for him if he could know that his family who he instructed to flee had all loved him, adored him, and would honour his sacrifice in differing ways...

Instead, a form of love meant his body was desecrated and used by Kenjaku. His girls were killed, and his full potential was not quite realised at all.

If only things were different.

Gojo should have kept him in his basement!

But at least, I think, Gege is giving Geto some love even after his death.

For that I’m thankful.

And thanks for reading if you made it this far with my rambling!

If you want something more light hearted I have a fluffy fic up on AO3 (it isn’t great but i enjoyed writing it to fantasise about what happens at the airport) and if you want more angst and pain, please browse my tags (lol).

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sixosix · 10 months

Text

IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness.

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it’s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

#606:GENSHIN #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

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runnning-outof-time · 3 months

Note

Hi K! Arthur's angel here! I was wondering if I could request "Why Right Now?" with Arthur?

Hi Shark! Thanks so much for sending some more Arthur in for me to write for this celebration! I’m excited to end it off with some stories for him! I’m sorry it took me so long to write though. I went prewar/wartime on this one, and it got a little angsty…but then I couldn’t resist adding a little fluff at the end. I hope you like it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

We’ll Get Through This

Prewar/Wartime!Arthur Shelby x Reader

Warnings: talks of war

Word Count: around 1k (I’m too lazy to find the count)

Summary: (Y/N) tries to wrap her head around her boyfriend’s decision to go fight in France.

Arthur inhaled a deep breath and held it, hoping that it would provide him with the gumption he needed to break the news to the concerned woman sitting across from him. It didn’t. But he had to break it anyway. “I’m going to fight in France.”

“You’re…you’re what?” she asked a question in response, checking to make sure she’d heard him correctly…although she was 99.9% sure she had.

“Me brothers and I. We’re going to fight,” he repeated himself, unable to hold her gaze. He didn’t want to see her reaction to the news. He knew it would break him.

“Why right now?” (Y/N) blurted before she could think of what she was saying. “I mean…it’s still early on. Have you been drafted?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head.

“Has Tommy?”

“No.”

“John?”

“No.”

“So then why right now? Why have you chosen to go fight?” her confusion had slipped into her words as she tried to wrap her head around his decision.

“We’re ready to fight for our country, (Y/N),” he gave his justification, holding his head up in a show of pride.

“Are you ready to die for it?” she asked, quick to remind him of the gruesome reality of war. That’s all she could think of at the moment.

“I’m not going to die, love,” he told her.

“You can’t promise that,” she insisted, biting on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

“Then I’ll do my damnedest to make sure of it,” he assured her, “I’m not gonna let anything keep me from you, (Y/N).”

“Oh Arthur,” she sighed, dropping her gaze to the floor as she let the tears that had welled up in her eyes slip.

“Hey…” he paused, gently reaching out and slipping his fingers under her chin so that he could lift her eyes to meet his once more. “We’ll get through this,” he told her, his voice just above a whisper.

“I hope we will. Because I can’t lose you, Arthur,” she tried her best to get the words out while holding back her sobs. She hated that she couldn’t get all of the worst case scenarios out of her mind.

“I’ll come home to you,” he said, a certainty present in his eyes that filled (Y/N)’s heart. His words helped her start to accept that this would be their new reality, and she tried so hard to get herself into the same mindset that he had.

“I love you,” she couldn’t hold those three words back anymore, saying them for the first time in their relationship. She didn’t wait for him to respond, or even watch for his reaction to her admission. Instead she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his frame, holding onto him as tight as she could.

Arthur quickly returned the embrace, his heart beating at a mile a minute. She just told me she loves me, he kept repeating to himself, feeling like a giddy school boy. He held her against him for as long as she needed him to, only loosening his hold when he felt her move. “I love you, (Y/N),” he repeated the phrase once she’d pulled back to look at him again.

Hearing him say those three words back made her heart flutter. A smile broke onto her face and despite the situation, she now felt happy. Happy that his deeper feelings for her were requited. Happy that she’d found someone whom she loved; someone who loved her back.

She wrapped her arms around him again, hugging him even tighter now than before.

“We’re going to get through this…right?” she asked him after a couple moments had passed. She pulled back again, her eyes finding his.

“We will,” he assured her. “We’ll get through this.”

Neither of the two really knew what lied ahead of them. They were stepping into a world of unknowns that surely would test them, but they both were thankful that they’d be stepping into that world together.

*tags in reblog so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

#arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x y/n #arthur shelby x you #arthur shelby blurb #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby fanfic #arthur shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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fiapartridge · 9 months

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different | kent johnson

"maybe this time it'll be different..."

kent johnson x hughes!sister

summary: when kent arrives to the lake house two years after breaking up with y/n hughes, he has so much more planned than wakeboarding with the boys-- he's going to get her back.

warning(s): cursing

a/n: i remembered someone requesting a kj fic so here we are!! it's my first one! so! try not to hate it too much! LOL

Kent hadn’t anticipated coming to the lake house like this: sopping wet from the rain that only seemed to pour when Kent arrived since all the days leading up to this were sunny skies with a chance of nothing– absolutely zero rain, except for the day he showed up. Great.

And to make matters even worse, he hadn’t even been invited to the lake house, turning up unannounced. Luke and the rest of the Hughes’ cut contact with Kent after his and Y/N’s breakup. I mean, he didn’t expect them to take his side or feel some sort of sympathy for him, but he also didn’t know he was gonna lose everyone because of it.

Luke Hughes had invited Kent to the lake house every summer since meeting him, claiming him as the “cool older brother he never had.” (Jack and Quinn had of course taken offense from that, but he was right. Kent was cool.) But when Kent broke up with Y/N after the 2021 draft, making up the excuse of not wanting to “drag her along” while he was busy in the NHL, Luke couldn’t help but be there for his sister. At first, he hadn’t taken sides. Luke wasn’t a part of the relationship, so obviously their friendship would be fine— but once he heard how hurt and worthless she felt, he couldn’t be friends with him. He would never be friends with a person that could make his sister feel that bad about herself.

For months, she wondered what she could’ve possibly done to make him walk out like that, especially on a day that was supposed to be so special. Maybe… maybe she was just a thing to pass the time with until his life really began. She wasn’t meant to be in his life, not the life he planned at least, she was just something that happened— and apparently he wasn’t one for spontaneity.

Until now. As he stands at the door of the Hughes family’s summer home, the memories of spending warm July nights huddled around the small table that sat on the front porch, littered with beer bottles and red solo cups, flooding back to him. Y/N sitting comfortably on his lap, her brothers making gagging noises every time they kissed, his UMich teammates picking her up and running through the house to the backyard, throwing Y/N into the pool and pushing Kent in with her.

They don’t even text him anymore. And he thought that losing them would’ve been the worst part, but they weren’t the people that he told everything to; what he was feeling; how anxious he felt about the future; how excited he was after scoring his first goal at Yost. his frustration over his terrible gameplay the month before the draft, fearing that none of the teams would draft him if they saw how he was playing then. That was all Y/N— and he blew it.

He wasn’t even thinking, he didn’t know what to say, his actions spoke before him as he knocked on the door, hearing the loud chatter on the other side come to a halt. And before he knew it, he was face-to-face with his old teammate, Luke.

Stepping onto the porch and closing the door behind him, Luke’s face couldn’t be mistaken for anything but anger.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Luke spat.

Kent wasn’t expecting a warm welcome, but he also wasn’t expecting a full on war the minute he knocked on the door. He really should’ve thought out his words on the way here.

“I know that everyone in that house hates me,” Luke scoffed, muttering something under his breath as Kent cautiously continued. “But I need to talk to Y/N. I fucked up, I know, and it’s too late, but please. I just need to see her.”

“Even if I told her you were here, I don’t think she’d even want to talk to you.”

Ouch.

“I know you’ll never forgive me for what I did to your sister, and I have no excuse for that, but just— give me one last chance with her. I just want to talk.”

Luke stood there, processing it all. He hated Kent for what he had done. None of the other boys were there to hold Y/N when she would fall asleep with tears in her eyes, they weren’t there when she would stumble into his bed late at night because she didn’t trust herself to be alone in her room, they weren’t there to hear her beat up herself for what had happened, thinking that this whole thing was her fault, that she could’ve prevented this from happening if she was just… better.

But he also remembered how happy Kent made her feel when they were together.

So he gave him a chance. One singular chance.

“Y/N,” Kent froze upon seeing her. She looked so different, yet so the same. She wore her hair down now instead of in messy buns or high ponies, she was taller, and her baby face was gone, her cheeks growing a bit slimmer. She still had that rosy pink complexion that she always carried around with her and she still wore the silver charm bracelet she had when they were together. She was still so beautiful, if not more than when he last saw her.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, closing herself off to him. She looked hesitant, apprehensive. She had spent the first year after their breakup hoping that he would come back and tell her that it was all a big mistake, that he didn’t mean to break up with her, that he was just overwhelmed, that he wanted her back. The second year, she accepted it; that he wasn’t coming back. So why was she feeling like nothing had changed, that all her progress meant nothing, that she would crumble and go back to the way it was that first year, hoping he’d make his way back to her, in her arms, on her lips, in her heart.

For him, she was a mess. That she never grew out of— as much as she wished she would.

“Why are you here, Kent?”

Hearing his full name come out of her mouth was like a dagger to his chest. But he did that. He ruined everything. Did he really have the right to feel bad for himself?

He licked his lips, trying to find his words. Any words, really. “I still care about you, Y/N/N. I never stopped.”

“So why did you throw it all away?” she asked, poking her finger at his chest. “And don’t give me the bullshit excuse of ‘dragging me along’ because you were three fucking hours away! That wouldn’t have changed anything!”

“I was stupid, okay!” he shouted back, his voice cracking. “I was overwhelmed, and I was lost, and I knew I wouldn’t be enough for you, that I couldn’t be there, and be the person that you deserved.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. This is not how she thought seeing him again would go. “Did you think you couldn’t have told me? That I wouldn’t understand? We could’ve worked through it! We could’ve been together through it all! We could’ve seen if it really was gonna work or not! But you didn’t even want to give us a chance.”

Backing away, her hand fell from his chest, slipping to the door knob behind her. It’s like he was losing her all over again. He couldn’t let that happen, not again.

Holding onto her wrist, he felt her stop in her tracks. Maybe she was just waiting for the right words, and while he didn’t know what the right words were, he decided to jump off the deep end nonetheless.

“My biggest regret was walking away from you, Y/N. And I know this means nothing, that I put you through so much that you didn’t deserve, and you can hate me all you want, tell me to leave and I’ll go, but please— please just hear me out.”

Her forehead rested against the door. “Five minutes,” she mumbled before spinning around. “You have five minutes to talk.”

Kent didn’t waste a single second. “I’m still in love with you. I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m not, but you mean the world to me, Y/N, and I shouldn’t have let that go, let us go, let you go. And if you give me another chance,” she pulled her wrist away from him, his chest speeding up. Please don’t go. “I won’t make the same mistake again. And I know that you’re scared, that we might end up doing this whole shit storm all over again, and I can’t promise that we won’t, but if you just give me a chance, just one chance, maybe this time it’ll be different.”

Kent’s words hung in the air as Y/N stood there, listening to his earnest plea. The rush of memories and emotions hit her like a tidal wave. The wounds of their breakup were still there, scars etched into her skin, a reminder of him every time she went to Yost and he wasn’t there, or when she would stalk his Instagram, swearing to her friends that she would block him this time, yet she always failed.

She had spent so much time convincing herself that she was better off without him, that she could thrive on her own, but as he stood there, telling her the one thing she wished she heard from him years ago, that he still loved her, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Her brows narrowed, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. “Why should I believe you?”

“You can’t. But, Y/N, I have spent the past two years regretting everything, and wishing you were beside me. After my first game, I looked into the stands and when you weren’t there, I… I knew I fucked up, that you were the best thing that’s ever happened to me, that I’ve never been as happy as I was with you. And you can choose to not believe me when I say that I won’t walk out on us again, but please just think about it. Please.”

Y/N’s head was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She was torn between the fear of getting hurt again and the desire to give him another chance. Kent’s sincerity was real and honest, but could she really trust him not to run away when things got tough?

“No more running away. No more not talking about things. If we want this to work, I need to trust you again.”

“I’m not leaving. It’s you, you’re all I need,” he said, laying his forehead against hers. “I’ll do my best to show you I’ve changed, just make me yours again.”

In that moment, with their hearts racing and their emotions raw, Y/N’s gaze locked onto Kent’s nervous eyes. There was a certain vulnerability in his expression that echoed her own, and her mind battled between caution and the undeniable pull she still felt towards him. She’d felt that pull the second she saw him on the porch. It wasn’t something that could just go away, and in that moment, she was grateful for that.

As Kent’s fingers gently brushed against her cheek, Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. His touch was gentle, hesitant, as if he feared shattering the fragile bridge they were building between them.

Y/N’s breath caught as Kent’s lips descended upon hers, a soft press that held a world of unspoken promises. It was a tentative kiss, a meeting of lips that carried the weight of the aching past, the hope that they could fix what was broken, and the need for his lips since the moment they broke up.

The kiss deepened, a slow progression that was both hesitant and passionate. Kent’s arms encircled Y/N, pulling her closer as her fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, her heart racing as she surrendered to the kiss, allowing herself to be enveloped by the flood of emotions that came with it.

Their lips moved against each other with a tender intensity, as if they were trying to convey all the unspoken words and emotions that had accumulated during their time apart. In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade, the rain stopped, the muffled voices on the other side of the door were gone— it was just them.

When they finally pulled away, their breaths were mingled, their foreheads resting against each other. Y/N’s eyes met Kent’s once again, and she could see the genuine regret and love he still had for her. She knew he hadn’t seen anyone for the past two years, Blanks liked to remind her of that everytime he tried to get them back together.

“I’m not leaving,” Kent whispered, his voice laced with sincerity. “I meant what I said, Y/N. You’re all I need, and I’m here to prove it. This time, it’ll be different.”

#kent johnson #columbus blue jackets #umich imagine #kent johnson x hughes!sister #kent johnson imagine #kent johnson imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #different joshua bassett #joshua bassett

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ultralightpoe · 3 months

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Vigilante Shit - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Never liked this one which is why it stayed in the drafts fr so long, it just always seemed empty. It's definitely missing something.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Word Count:9,131

Warnings: Cuss words, reader was once apart of the red room

Apart of my MIDNIGHTS EVENT.

Main Masterlist

Enjoy!

Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie

They say looks can kill and I might try

I don't dress for women

I don't dress for men

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

It’s the pity on her face that makes you want to claw her eyes out, or maybe the happy family photo sitting on her desk staring and taunting you with their stupid smiling faces. Each of her children smiled like nothing was wrong in the world, like they didn’t have to worry about earning their way or surviving the day.

Dr. Aquinos children would never know pain.

But that was a given, they weren’t bought and sold off. They weren’t tortured and abused for years only to be torn out when Natasha fucking Romanoff decides to free everyone from that chain and force them into the real world.

Did it make you pathetic to say you missed it?

In the red room you had a cot, a meal at least once a day and training. Out here you were no one. No trace of you existed. No ids, or photos, no friends or family. You were nothing.

Even ghosts had more than you at this point.

“You know it’s common to feel this way about it? That longing to have it back? It’s the pain and the change, you feel like you have nothing right now but I can assure you that’s not true.”

You say nothing.

“Have you given any thought to our last session?” The therapist asks, voice saccharine amount of sweet that tells you she knows your looking for a fight today and she won’t be giving into it. You hated that she knew you would try that, you hated these sessions all together.

“Yes.” Lie. And judging by the quirk in her smile she knows it too.

“I think it’s extremely important for you in this next step, to get rid of the suit. What was it they called you?” You don’t reply for a minute, your own little form of rebellion, but she doesn’t let you get away with it for long. “The…. Cobra?”

“The. Viper.” You bite out, grinding your teeth together and fisting your hands at your side. “The Red Viper to be exact.”

“Can you explain to me why it is you got that name? I mean your other counter parts all follow a …..widow theme….. but you don’t?”

“It just….. happened that way.” You lie. “How much longer do we have?”

Why did she not have a clock?

“Ah. So the story has something to do with Bucky Barnes.” She smiles and you fight back the sneer.

“Nope.”

“You always ask for the time when memories of him are brought up.”

Not. True. You don’t bother arguing because that might prove her point.

“Can you recall what he looked like?”

A flash of ice blue crosses your mind, his eyes. Followed by roses and ballet slippers. A small opening to freedom right there in your grasp, his smiling face….. replaced by that of betrayal, the pain and torture you suffered for weeks after because he-

“No.” You lie. “I only knew him as the winter soldier.”

“Have you tried reaching out?”

“No. And I never will.” Not until you were able to kill him, get your revenge.

Your therapist didn’t know about your revenge list though,she would have you imprisoned for it. The list of names of every mastermind and agent that did you wrong, and at the very end of the list was the one person you actually managed to trick you, the one person you gave everything you had left to.

Bucky Barnes would be the last person you killed in this life, and you would make sure to enjoy every second of it.

It’s not everyday they pull you from your training program and load you into a transportation vehicle, and you don’t know whether to be scared or excited by the change in routine.

You decide on excitement, because a widow is never. Ever. Scared.

The keepers transporting you all avoid eye contact and you bite back the smirk, knowing that you installed that fear when you bit the thumb off the last guard that tried to touch you inappropriately. You might be hydras toy but you were not a plaything for these half wits.

“Your mission will be in direct partnership with the Winter Soldat.” The agent in front of you explains, watching you load up your widow uniform with hidden weapons “there’s a list of names that needs to be taken care of, and it might take a minute so they are pairing you both. They want no mistakes, only the best.”

“No traces no trails. No chances.” You answer, already having it memorized, biting down on your tongue when you remember the poor girl you left as a witness to your last mission.

Hydra never found out, but her scared scream when she caught you killing her father will haunt you.

You wondered if you might have had someone to scream over at one point.

“He won’t speak to you so don’t bother.” The agent grunts as the vehicle comes to a stop and he slams his fist on the side to let them know it’s safe to open the doors.

They all cast you another look as you try not to roll your eyes at the drama. If you truly wanted out of this vehicle you could slaughter them all, you just knew that hydra would track you down no matter what so what was the point?

They lead you down hundreds of gray halls, each getting darker than the last and the smell of mold and desperation heightened with each step. Finally at the very last cell door they all raise their weapons and slide it open, muttering something in Russian before a figure emerges.

The glint of his arm catches on the shit light above you first, and then he is there, glowering and confused in the same go.

“Soldat. This is the widow.” His mentor speaks in Russian, gesturing to you which makes the soldier give you one look. That’s it. One brief look of disdain and he goes back to looking at the mentor like you weren’t even there.

This mission is going to go well.

“You’re making progress Bucky.” Dr. Raynor hums, her eyes glinting as she watches him over the pad of paper she hasn’t scribbled on in the past hour. He likes to think that it’s a good sign, but he also tries not to get into his own head about it. “But I’d like to go a little deeper if you’ll let me.”

“Don’t really have a choice doc.” He mutters, but his tone lacks the usual bite.

“Funny. Have you slept in a bed recently?”

“I’ve made it to at least 3 hours of sleep in my bed.” He nods, not mentioning he thought the laundry detergent smelled like your shampoo.

“You bought any home decorations? Anything at all?”

“There’s a welcome mat by the front door.”

“Inside or outside?”

“…..inside.” He wasn’t brave enough to put it out in the hall yet.

“I just want a house that has a welcome mat and that cookie smell. Something to call home.” Those were your words, whispered to him the night before the soldier…..

“Tell me what you have been up to lately.”

“Lunches with Yori….missions with Sam…. And I’ve been…. Trying to find someone.”

“Someone from your time as the soldier?”

“Yes.” His throat is tight and he might throw up.

“For revenge?”

“No…. Well she might want revenge…… I just want her.” He admits.

Dr. Raynors eyebrows shoot up, and she tries to keep neutral as she asks the next question. “The viper then?”

“She didn’t like that name.”

“How did she get it?”

“Me.”

“And what did you call her if she didn’t like the name?”

“Flower.”

I don't start it but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

The roof of the bagel shop on the stupid block you were on was probably the worst spot to be.

Best, if you’re focusing on the fact that it’s the perfect hideout for the sniper gun you are aiming and the fact that you’re able to lay at a slant so your legs don’t falls asleep while you focus.

Terrible for the fact that you could smell the pizza shop next door perfectly, and your stomach was beginning to rumble in hunger.

But you had to focus, your target was supposed to be in his apartment right now, Viktor Aubrel, the man that sold you in the first place.

Your intel told you he should have been home an hour ago and yet you were still waiting in the winter air that sent a shiver up your spine, too focused on the aim to realize the two figures now on the roof.

“Are the widows that oblivious now?” A deep voice laughs causing you to whirl, knife out as you spot none other than the winter soldier and the new captain america, both watching you.

It was the captain that taunted you, a sneer making its way into your lips as you prepare yourself to launch. The winter soldier extends a hand out, blocking the captain with a skeptical look.

“Sam. A little forewarning, she doesn’t fight like the others.” He mumbles and you all but hiss, not giving either of them a moment before you’re launching at them.

They track your movements well, both standing to fight as you run across the roof, jumping up on the ledge to give you the upper advantage and launch yourself at them. Starting with the easier target, the man with the shield. Wrapping your arms around his neck and spinning your body until you have his weight thrown in the air. He manages to catch himself standing but you’re ahead of the game, jumping so your feet are planted on his chest and shoving him off the roof right as the winter soldier gets to you.

“I don’t want to do this.” He mutters and you hiss again, lunging with a knife out, slashing expertly over and over as he dodges as much as he can. “You don’t need to do this.”

The knife catches in the elbow of his metal arm and his flesh hand comes up to grab your wrist so you twist, kicking his knee down and flick another knife from your uniform.

“I want to.” You mutter in Russian, voice dripping with disdain as you raise the knife and bring it down. Only to get blasted across the roof.

The air leaves your lungs as you skid across the concrete of the roof, splayed out staring at the sky and blinking away the pain.

“She’s quicker than the rest.” Captain America huffs, helping the soldier up.

“A lethal experiment. Taking a trained widow and injecting her with mutated blood of some guy named Logan Howlett.”

“Where does the viper come from?”

“Her knives are all laced with venom and poisons. One touch to your skin and it doesn’t matter if it was a fatal wound or not. You’re out.” You hear them both approach, pretending to be passed out before they get close enough and you can kick the soldier in the stomach. He catches your foot, twisting so your body would have to twist with it or break, but you’re already pulling out a knife and launching it at the other.

A shout of warning leaves the soldier's lips as the knife nearly gets his partner's thigh, you take this weakness and twist until you are wrapped around him and launching you both across the roof. But he is already working his way out, twisting so you slam into the roof once more, his metal arm on your throat holding you down as you claw at it.

Panic attacks your body, scratching at the metal as the captain comes into view.

“Stop. We can help you.” The man sighs.

“Y/n.” The soldier mumbles, eyes pleading. “Let us help-“

Your foot bends to smash into his jaw and send him sprawling back.

“That’s. Not. My. Name.” Your voice is scratchy from the choking and it hurts to talk, but you don’t have time since you’re already dashing to clear the roof.

But the captain throws his shield and hits your ankle sending you falling until Bucky catches you and twists you with his metal arm so your back was to his chest and he can hold you.

“It is. You told me so yourself. Remember?”

“I wanna see my life before all this. I want to see my family and tell them I’m alive. My name was y/n. I found my file and I just-“

You were disgusted that you ever told him such things.

“LET GO!”

“We can help with your list.” It’s the caption saying this, his face holding pity. “We can’t kill but we can help take them down. If you’re willing.”

“They all deserve to die!” The one holding you counted in that.

“I’m not arguing that. But I am setting boundaries. Justice by more death is not the way to do this.” The man tries to ease, attempting a smile. “I’m Sam. You already know Buck-“

“Let me go!”

“We’re proposing a partnership. We help you take them down, get them arrested and you don’t kill any of them.”

“Right. And I get thrown in a cell right after I’m assuming.” You sneer, trying not to focus on the scent of hazel and coffee coating your senses from the soldier.

“You will be pardoned. You had no choice back then and we are giving you one now. Pardoned.”

“And what do you mean by taking them down?” What choice did you have?

It had been a week with the soldier when he finally showed a small amount of emotion. Insane.

You had been huddled in the corner of the abandoned hotel you made camp in, keeping close to yourself for warmth as he pretended to sleep by the wall. You knew he wasn’t actually asleep, not trusting enough to do so. And you don’t know when he does get sleep, all you know is you fight to the last possible moment your eyelids can stay open and you don’t sleep long.

The exhaustion and the cold were beginning to wear you down, a week in and you had yet to kill a single person on this list because the Soldat refused to listen to how you can manage it. With him it’s all silent and watching, your missions were usually more lively. You wore disguises and set traps. Hydra liked sending messages and it’s what you did.

They want a quick and efficient widow? They send Belova. They want a widow that draws attention to their dangers? A prize possession? They send you.

Which is why this entire mission is so weird. Why send you if- before you can finish your thought you are being pelted with a warm jacket, the Soldat glaring at you.

“Your teeth chattering is keeping me up.” He mutters in Russian, sitting up and checking all his weapons.

“As if you sleep.” You reply back in Russian, rolling your eyes. His eyes flick to you in surprise for just a second before he trains them again, watching the window in the opposite corner. “What’s your name?”

“Soldat.”

“What’s your real name?”

“I….. should the viper be asking questions?” He snaps, glaring once more before you roll your eyes and stand up. He watches your every move as you toss his jacket back and cross the room. “Where are you going?”

“To be a viper.” You sneer back, enjoying the way the Russian makes the words bite out more.

He stands up quickly when you move to climb out the window but you send him a glare and descend quickly, making sure he does not follow.

When you get back three hours later, he is standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed and a glare on his features.

You simply walk past him to grab your list, crossing off the first name. “Can we get an actual hotel this time? I need to shower some of this blood off.”

As you move to walk past him his arm shoots out to grab you, pain erupting as he bends your neck to look at him. You would allow this, because is his anger is on you then he won’t look into the 2 little children you helped vanish tonight after you killed their father.

“You do not make moves without me. Understood?”

“Yes Soldat.” You try to nod before he lets go.

“Viper.” He hisses. And you would allow it, because if anyone knew what you had done you would be killed.

The three of you ended up in a warehouse not too far away from the roof you had been scouting on, bucky carrying your bag of weapons on his shoulder as he tried not to look at you while Sam paced back and forth.

You sat on a fallen beam, seeming bored and uninterested as you picked at your nails. But Bucky knew that was your game, to let the world think you were a valid assassin with little to no care.

But he knew you cared, he knew how much effort you had put into saving kids back then. You had always been so warm without even realizing it.

But maybe that all changed, after it….. all happened he hadn’t heard about you again and after he was freed by Steve he couldn't seem to find any of the children you had saved.

“What happened to them?” He finds himself asking, his chest pinching at the sight of you. His flower. But that look in your eyes, the betrayal and anger…..

“The first three on my list? I dumped their bodies in the river.” You smile, turning your glare to Sam. “How about that pardon now?”

“The kids. The ones that you-“ you stand before he can finish his sentence , both him and Sam preparing for a fight as you seem to try and ease yourself.

“What kids?” Sam snaps, anger and protectiveness rolling off of him. “Did you hurt-“

“No. She used to smuggle them out.” Bucky explains. “When she got missions if there was a kid in the family she would pretend to kill them, and help the kid out.”

“I thought hydra confirmed kills by bodies.”

“Not when you’re the best.” You smile, that vapid venomous smile that made Bucky's stomach churn. “And Soldat is right. I used to smuggle the kids out.”

His chest hurts at the name you use, but he assumes that it’s fair. “Where are they now?”

He wants you to look at him, to tell him they are all safe and that he didn’t ruin everything. But you keep your eyes trained away, pain flashing through your features as you explain. “After you…. Told them….. they got the names and locations from me and sent out the shadow widow.”

“Kaltain Amerie.” Sam nods, recognizing the name. She was married to a fancy rich guy now, had been the one Yelena found.

“She took care of what I couldn’t. She did the job.” You nod, hands fisting at your sides as the words clang into Bucky. “And I was punished for my failure.”

“And the missions you got after they caught you?” Sam asks, casting a brief look to bucky at the word caught.

“I had a partner, and they always made sure I did my job.” Fuck.

He was going to puke, how many kids had…..

“You mentioned an alliance. Not an interrogation.” You snap, obviously uncomfortable. “And if you want to revoke my pardon because of-“

“I don’t.” Sam says gently, nodding. “And I’m sorry that it happened.”

“I’m not.” It was a lie and Bucky could taste it. Anything to keep both of them away, that wall you built up when he first met you.

“Okay. The name on your list. Let’s talk about how to get him.” Bucky changes direction, wanting to get you to ease again, not liking the pain in your eyes.

You continue to avoid looking in his direction, and he continues to stare at only you.

She needed cold hard proof so I gave her some

She had the envelope, where you think she got it from?

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife

And she looks so pretty

Driving in your Benz

Lately she's been dressing for revenge

It’s a month into the mission when the Soldat tells you his name.

Gone were the days of sleeping on opposite sides of the room, now you both shared a bed. Gone were the days of him not sleeping, and he was now the one that fell asleep first.

Tonight being one of those nights, with you sitting against the headboard of the hotel bed, his forehead pressed into your thigh as he falls asleep slowly, letting you play with his hair as you review footage of your next name. The third on the list.

“My name….” He mutters, this time in English which still shocks you everytime he does. “It’s Bucky.”

“Bucky?” It tastes like vanilla on your tongue, your chest lightening as you whisper it a couple more times. “I like it.”

“What’s yours?”

“My file…. My file says Y/n.” You whisper back and he tilts his head up to look at you.

“You don’t seem to like it.”

“I….. it just doesn’t feel real.” You admit. “It feels wrong for me to use it.”

“I think it’s a wonderful name. It suits you well but… I think you’re my flower.” He murmurs back, moving to press his forehead into your thigh once more and finally lets sleep claim him.

The next morning you both work in tandem, cleaning weapons, he gives you time to make sure that your knives are still potent with venom as you try to come up with a plan to get the 5 year old girl out of the country without the soldier knowing.

But the betrayal of it hurts your chest, watching him work around you as a smooth unit. A team. That’s what you had become.

“Ready?” He asks in Russian, coming up to fix the hair that had fallen out of your braid, using his flesh hand to push it behind your ear as his thumb traces your jaw.

“Always. You?”

“With you my little flower? Always.”

It was ironic the way you and the Soldat still worked in tandem, moving with an effortless grace.

Sam, the captain, watches with wide eyes as you both move around each other.

“Do we have-“

“Yes we have enough intel.” You snap, closing the camera footage the second you spot the young boy running down the hall of the mansion when both him and his mom get home. The pain in your chest could be blamed on the image, and or the stupid soldier standing too close to you. “I can smell your breath.”

“He ate a cheeseburger for lunch again?” Sam chuckles and you stand straight, giving him wide eyes as the Soldat rolls his own. “You know you can’t get in trouble for calling him an idiot, right?”

“I’m aware.” Your words come out clipped and you try not to shudder at the way Sam snickers, catching your lie.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Call Barnes a dumbass.”

“I won’t speak to the Soldat.” You reply, moving to clean your knives.

“Oh come on. Try it. It helps me..” sam laughs, sitting across from you at the kitchen counter as the Soldat shuffles closer to help you clean the knives. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

“You….. are a dumbass.” You squeak out, not looking at him. You hear him snort behind you and he reaches across to grab another knife. You roll your eyes at the way he presses his body next to yours.

“That was lame. Try again.” Sam laughs.

“Fine. You’re a DUMBASS!” You snap out, watching both their eyes widen before laughs break out and they start cracking up.

You feel your stiff spine loosen a little, the anxiety easing as you start laughing as well, all three of you cackling. His flesh hand finds its way to your lower back to keep you stable as you both drop the knives to laugh. And finally, after three weeks of working with them you drop the angry front, and give in to their warmth even though everything in you screams to not fall for it.

“Is this….. proper mission food?” You ask from the spot you had taken at the window, watching Bucky and Sam come in with pizza boxes and beer in their hands, both laughing at each other .

Bucky had, sort of tripped up on the stairs which sent Sam in a spiral of making fun of him, but the second they laid eyes on you that humor fell out the window, both going quiet.

“You don’t think pizza and beer are good?” Sam asks, offended. “This is the best combo.”

“Is it…. Allowed?” You ask again and Bucky feels that pang in his chest before he passes the box to you and opens it smoothly.

“You get the first slice pick.” He offers and Sam gasps at the counter.

“That….. oh that’s just cruel to me.”

“It’s an honor to pick the first slice then?” You quirk your eyebrow, humor written on your face, the spark in your eyes setting him on fire. “This is a New York custom?”

“Oh indeed.” He smiles, pushing the box closer to you. “It would be a great dishonor to refuse this.”

There is a second of discomfort, he watches you contemplate it before you reach for a slice, grabbing the largest slice and raising your eyebrows as you wait to see their reactions.

“Perfect choice!” Sam grunts, reaching around you to grab another slice.

“I was going to choose that one.” Bucky smiles, watching you bite it immediately then stick out your tongue at him before taking up a spot on the couch as both of them find their own seats in the living room. You seem tense still, obviously not used to this sort of freedom anymore and his lungs constrict at the thought that this was caused by him.

Back then you had been so… warm and open. Even as an agent you melted the ice exterior the soldier had around him. And through the muddled haze of his memory every memory attached to you was always crystal clear, like a flame in the fog.

“So…. you guys knew each other back when he was the Winter Soldier?” Sam asks, popping the lid off of a beer with ease, he leans forward on his knees and pretends to be more interested in the pizza box. Making it seem like he was an open book, a comforting thing.

“Yeah, we had a long list of enemies that they wanted us to deal with.” You answer, looking to the window rather than either of them.

“It seems like it went wrong…”

“It went fine.” Bucky is quick to snap.

“It was fine. We made it through half the list, before Hydra had to get involved.” You snap as well moving to set the rest of your slice on the plate left on the table for you. “I made a mistake.”

“It wasn’t-” Bucky goes to argue, chest tight.

“I let emotions muddle my task.” You explain to Sam. “I got too attached and ruined it. And then I got caught smuggling the kids out- I was further reported for my behavior and handled accordingly.”

“Hey, this isn’t Hydra.” Sam tries to ease you. “I think what you did was very noble and-”

“All I did was give kids hope where it didn’t belong.” You sneer. “I will never allow myself that weakness again.”

You cast Bucky a glare, his palms sweating and chest blistering as he watches you disappear into the bathroom and the shower running a second later.

Sam continues watching Bucky, eyebrows pinched together. “You reported it?”

“I… as much as I broke away at that time I was still under the soldiers spell.” Bucky admits, gulping down half the beer in his hand. “I…. I had sent in a mission report. Well I had to send it in and I had caught her plan a little bit before that.”

“I’m sorry that happened, Buck.”

“I am too.” He sighs. “I got rewarded and she… well they broke her.”

She don't start it, but she can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

She don't dress for friends

Lately she's been dressing for revenge

“You need to be careful in the upper levels.” He warns, keeping his flesh hand on the small of your back as you both move to start scaling the side of the house.

“I know.” You growl out, keeping your voice low as his eyebrows pinch in frustration. “Don’t be a worry wart.”

“Stick to my side.”

“The job is quicker if I take care of the kids.” You mumble, leaning up to kiss his cheek lightly, the closest you had ever gotten to actually kissing him, no matter how much you wanted to. Three months with him and you were hopelessly in love.

“Fine.” He grunts out, his Russian sharp. He nods once before moving to his starting point, checking that you had begun scaling the wall to the kids room before heading in to handle the parents. But you had been so caught up in Bucky that you didn’t check to make sure both the children were asleep.

The girl screamed first, followed by the boy and you began rushing to ease their worries, kneeling by them and trying to swipe the tears away. “No no. Easy my little ones. It’s okay. I just need you to listen-”

But the boy screams again, this time at something behind you which makes you whirl to find Bucky in the frame of the door, watching intently with blood on his arm.

“No! Please!” You beg, up on your feet and shoving yourself in front of the children as he cocks his head to the side. “Please.”

“Move.” He orders, raising his gun. It seems he’s already assessed the weakness and was willing to handle the problem. “Now.”

“No!” You hadn’t even realized that tears were falling down your face until you could taste the salt, moving forward to grab his gun. “Please!”

“The mission-”

“They are children.” Both of you were speaking Russian, which seemed to be scaring the kids even more as they wailed, and you turned to ease them again. They dash into your arms, holding you tight as they sob. You would die before letting anything happen to them.

When you turn to see him again you see that he has lowered the gun and is merely staring at you, something sparking in his eyes.

You wait for the blow, but it never comes. Instead he nods his head and moves to pick up the boy. He helps you get them out, aboard a ship and hidden from Hydra. When you make it back to the hotel you pace a bit, waiting for him to finish you off.

But he merely stands in the center of the room, watching you closely.

“I’m sorry.” You sob, hand on your chest as you turn to him finally. “I failed the mission and-”

He moves forward in three easy strides, his hands grasping your jaw to bring you up into a searing kiss, arms wrapping around you tightly as he lifts you off the ground to keep you close. And all anxieties peel away, as he lifts his hand to undo your suit. Giving yourself to the soldier that night, and once you were done you stay huddled together, whispering your dreams of the past and future.

And for once you felt like…. You were home.

The next morning tensions were gone, and you seemed to have forgotten about the night before. Or at least you were pretending to, and Bucky didn’t know if he should be happy or angry at the fact.

You had combed through all the footage of the target, piling it all into a folder and he had sent the flash drive to the people needed that would be able to get him arrested. And after that had been sent you had sent out another envelope to his wife, with proof of an affair so she would be able to divorce him.

And just like that another name was taken off your list, and Bucky tried not to feel the pressure at the fact that he was sure you would be gone the second the list was done. And he wouldn’t have an excuse to see you anymore.

He’s lucky Sam went along with this plan in the first place.

“Where is Sam?” You ask from your spot at the counter, legs crossed as you play with one of your knives, watching him closely where he sits on the couch.

“He went to go check on his sister and her kids.” He answers, looking up to you. “They are really close.”

“That’s nice.” You hum, dropping the knife out of boredom. “What comes next?”

“You got another name?”

“Are we allowed to start without Sam?” You ask, eyebrows pinching together.

“Yes. We can. Your list?”

“Front pocket of my duffel.” You hum out, something having caught your attention. He reaches for the bag and checks for the list as you shuffle closer to his open laptop. For a second he hears you hesitate, but he had already made it clear that you had access to anything so he nods and lets you look as he finds the paper you wrote the list on.

His eyes skim across the names, landing on the very last name as his heart stops. ‘Bucky Barnes’ , and no matter how many times you blink the name does not disappear. Why did you let him see this? Was this a trap set?

He whirls, only to find you staring at the screen unblinking. “Flower?”

Your head snaps to glare at him as he shuffles closer, shoving your list in his pocket and looking at what had caught your attention. He finds an old sitcom, a scene with a mother curled up with her kids and reading them a bedtime story.

“You never told me why.” He mutters, sitting on the couch with you on the floor staring at the screen again.

“Why what?”

“Why did you risk your life for all those kids?”

“Because they… because no one fought for me back then.” You admit, turning to look at him. “What is this show?”

“Full house. I don’t know, Steve put it on my list.”

“Your list?” You ask and he nods.

“Things to catch up on.” He smiles. “Like the star wars series.”

“The what?” He blinks slowly at your question, purely shocked.

Three hours later you are both sprawled out on the couch, pillows and blankets thrown about with snacks everywhere. Bucky had dragged you out to the store, buying tons of snacks that you had never tried before and before you knew it the apartment cupboards were packed with snacks and you were preparing to see the first star wars.

“Should we… have brought all this to the mission base?”

“The what?” He laughs, leaning forward to snatch a gummy worm from the bag you were holding.

“The… this apartment. Are we allowed to use it for this?”

“It’s my apartment.” He shrugs, and you blink slowly.

“It’s empty though.”

“I have a couch!” He scoffs. “And a tv!”

“No bed, no plushy towels or…. This is your home?” You didn’t know why this upset you. “You live like this?”

You want to kill him. You want to kill him. Why does this matter?

“I have a welcome mat.” He points to the door.

“That’s an ugly welcome mat.”

“Is not.”

“That would scare away any child on halloween.” You snap. “Are you trying to ruin their halloween?”

“No one really comes up here on halloween.” He shrugs again. “Why does it matter?”

“You… you’ve been free! You have been free this whole time and this is how you live and- I…..”

“I had other things to worry about besides Hydra. And John Walker. Tony Stark and the snap and- well I was trying to find you.” He admits.

“You were trying to find me?” Your chest constricts, as you watch him. “You tried to find me?”

“I did but after I was freed it was like they made you completely disappear and I’m assuming it’s because they knew I would start looki-” Before he can finish his sentence his phone rings and he sees Sams name, giving you an apologetic look before picking it up. You take a moment to try and fix yourself, taking deep breaths in. “He WHAT?”

This catches your attention, sitting up to watch him carefully as he stands. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up and nods. “I gotta go help Sam. Stay here and-”

“I’m coming with you.” You snap, moving to grab your duffel.

“No, we have a situation with John Walker and I need to-”

“I am coming.” And just like that you grab your suit, giving him your best glare as he shakes his head. “You both are helping me. The least I can do is help you.”

“You don’t have to.” He mumbles.

“But I will. Let’s go.”

Ladies always rise above

Ladies know what people want

Someone sweet and kind and fun

The lady simply had enough

“Thank you.” You whisper, keeping your head on his chest as you trace patterns along his skin. “Thank you for helping.”

“If you got away what would you do?”

“Me? I….. I would find the kids and make sure they made it. I would buy a house and get a cheesy welcome mat for it. I would decorate for halloween and….. And I would adopt a kid and-” You could taste the freedom, imagine it right there. A happy life.

“That sounds… amazing, flower.”

You lift your head, smiling softly as you lean up to kiss him, and he smiles back before moving to kiss you back.

You feel him stiffen before sitting up quickly and reaching for his knife. “Bucky?”

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “I’m so sorry.”

Before you can realize the door is blown open and agents rush in to grab you.

“Oh…. oh I like this duo.” John Walker smiles, watching you stand slightly behind Bucky with your arms crossed. He doesn’t say a word and neither do you, both giving him a good glare. The Winter Soldier and The Viper. “I hadn’t realized that Bucko boy came with his very own sidekick.”

“этот идиот знает, что от него пахнет рыбой?” (does this imbecile know he smells of fish?) You ask, sneering a bit and taking a step closer to Bucky. “и так небрежно использовать свое имя. Я могу сломать этого человека за считанные минуты.” (and to use your first name so casually. I can break this man within minutes.)

“Я с нетерпением жду этого. Еще я очень голоден, мармеладных червячков мне не хватило, чтобы поесть..” (I look forward to it. I'm also very hungry, gummy worms were not a sufficient meal)

You nod, trying not to smile as he gives you a look over his shoulder while Walker shuffles uncomfortably on his feet. “Shouldn’t we all speak english?”

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs. “But I find it’s easier to let these two do their thing. You said something about a raid?”

“There is a train heading down south here in 30 minutes and I know for a fact that there are rebels planning on stealing what’s on it.”

“What’s so important about what’s on the train?” Bucky asks, casting a look towards you and you see him catalog each and every one of your weapons just as he always used to do as the soldat. You give him a glare and he shrugs.

“Weapons.” John mutters. “And if we can intercept the rebels then-”

“You get your job back?” Sam snides. John stutters for a second and you snort, enjoying the panic on his face. He glares at you, preparing to say something as you step forward to grab one of your knives. You had no clue who this man was but it was easy to know that he was not an ally.

“Get your-”

“She’s not a dog.” Sam snaps, as Bucky sneers. “We’ll help, but on our terms. No one gets hurt and no one gets pummeled without cause.”

“Fine. Let’s see what you guys can do.” John sneers at you both, and Bucky sends you an easy smile over his shoulder as you smile back.

“Устроить им ад?” (Give them hell?)

“следую твоему примеру, Барнс.” (Following your lead, Barnes) You smile back, both of you swiveling to Sam and moving together.

You stand with him on a bridge, keeping a hand on his arm to stabilize yourself as you keep an eye on the ledge, fixing the comm in your ear with your other hand as he does the same.

“I….. I never wanted to betray you.” He blurts, as John tries to convince Sam to give him one of their comms, his argument of ‘I’m part of the team!’ almost making you snort. But Bucky’s words kept your attention as you tried to play it cool. Keeping your eyes trained on the bridge before you.

“Is this a good time to talk about this?” You mutter in Russian, just in case Walker could hear you both like you could hear him.

“It was the status report. They were making me do it every month and….. I fought it. I really tried to fight it.” He admits in russian, casting a look to Walker before turning back to you, his hand shooting out to wrap around your arm as you lean to prepare a landing. “Careful.”

“I thought…. You were…. Nevermind it was my mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake.” He snaps, pulling you closer. “It… It was everything to me.”

“I shouldn’t have. I should have kept my eyes on the mission and I ruined it and I ruined it for those kids. You were a weapon dangled before me, they knew I would fall for it. They knew I would fall for the freedom of it. And I’m sure they already knew that I was helping those kids and they just needed to prove-” The words are spilling out and you just can’t seem to stop them, tears beginning to fill your eyes. “I just wanted… I just wanted to help them.”

“You did.” He mumbles, moving until his chest is pressed to your shoulder. “Please look at me.”

“I messed it all up.”

“You didn’t mess anything up-”

“I did. I fell in love.” You finally look at him, tears in your eyes as he takes a deep breath in.

“I-”

“Incoming.” It’s Sam's voice in the comms that makes you both jump before you look to see the train coming.

“On it.” You mumble back in english, stabbing a knife into the brick beneath you as Bucky keeps a hold on your arm.

“Be careful, we’ll be right behind. Keep a knife ready and-”

“I’ve got it.” You laugh, watching the train get closer and closer.

“I just worry.” He admits, leaning forward to kiss your cheek softly. “And just so we are clear, I fell in love too.”

You try not to smile, giving him one last look before using the chord and launching down as you hear Sam count down in the comms, feet landing on the top of the train with a thud before you dive for the top grate and begin working on tearing it off.

You manage to tear it off in time to duck and lay flat as a sign under the bridge appears, managing to avoid it before crouching and climbing in as the train breaks from the bridge, three heavy sets of footprints hit the top of it while you climb across boxes to get to the end of the cart.

“Viper?!” Walker calls, landing in the crate followed by Bucky and Sam. You don’t bother answering, too busy trying to lift the shaft on the cart.

“You good?” Sam asks, coming to your side.

“I’m fine.” You mumble. “I can handle the mission sir-”

“Did you just sir me?” Sam laughs, leaning to help you with the shaft, letting the sunlight break in as the wind snaps in both your faces.

“You guys see anything?” John yells across the way as Bucky hops over a box and reaches you both.

You have just enough time to turn, ready to bite a response to Walker when you spot the bomb taped to the far wall. Your mouth opens in an attempt to yell a warning but it’s too late. It all blasts to shit.

There was nothing but pain as you hung suspended in the cell, the Shadow Widow sneering at you from her spot in the corner while Valkov took a break from torturing you. Your breathing is ragged, blood falling out of your mouth with the saliva as your eyes water.

You can no longer feel your legs, and your fingernails had been torn out first. Sobs racking through your body as he asks the question again, his russian loud.

“WHERE ARE THE LOOSE ENDS?!!”

You couldn’t betray the kids, you couldn’t do it. So when he picked up the drill you closed your eyes, sobbing once more as you try to blink Buckys face out of your memory, succumbing to your punishment.

Heat blasts against his back as you scream out, Sam yelling loudly, all three of you grasping anything you can as the train keeps going.

Bucky’s metal arm finds purchase on a broken handle of the train, trying to pull himself up as Sam grips the side grates of the train trying to activate his falcon wings while you struggle to keep hold of what is left of the floorboard in the train car, nails scraping as you grimace in pain while your legs stay suspended in the air.

“HOLD ON!” He calls, reaching his flesh hand for you before the metal of the door groans and he has to freeze.

Walker appears, bleeding from his ears and looking frazzled as hell, but Bucky breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees the idiot reach to help you. Hope that you would make it out of this mess, that is until John stumbles as he reaches for your hand and ends up making you lose your holding.

You scream out, nails scraping as you slide out, nearly all your body suspended in the air. Both Bucky and Sam scream, reaching for you before they realize they can’t.

“When does this fucking bridge end?” Bucky snaps, looking down to the hundreds of feet below, memories flashing in his mind.

“Language.” Sam grunts, exhaling in relief when he sees you manage to grab the final woodboard, your last chance at holding on.

“Complete the mission.” You snap. “I can get up.”

“We don’t leave each other behind.” Bucky grunts, using his flesh hand to reach for a rope connected to the roof of the train car.

“Hydra tells us we need to complete the missi-”

“This isn’t Hydra and I’m not leaving my girl on this train.” Bucky snaps and Sam whoops out a loud ‘fuck hydra’ as they both struggle to get to the main opening.

There are thuds on top of the train and you risk a look to see multiple hooded figures with bags getting ready to ransack the weapons. A grunt of anger passes through you as let one hand free from the board, much to Bucky's chagrin as he yells out for you before you reach and grab your compact launcher you had hidden in the belt of your suit and shoot the roof with the grappling hook, pulling yourself up right in time for Walker to fall back into the car.

“This manchild is useless.” You sneer, reaching for Bucky immediately, hands grasping his tactical vest and dragging him as much as you can into the train car as Sam struggles to get in as well.

“There are about 15 figures. We should have about 10 minutes before they blow the rest of this train up.” You explain, keeping your hands on his shoulders as you assess him. “Are you hurt?”

“No I’m-”

“I’m hurt!” Walker calls, making you hiss an unappealing word at him in russian before moving to look at Sam.

“Do you want the viper or me on this mission?”

“Viper would be nice.” Sam nods, looking at all the weapons. “Viper for sure.”

You nod, turning to assess Bucky one more time before he nods at you and you both begin working.

While he was doing lines

And crossing all of mine

Someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI

And I don't dress for villains

Or for innocents

I'm on my vigilante shh again

You both work in tandem, every punch he throws shoves the person straight into your kick. You slash your knife at anyone that gets too close to him, slicing their skin easily as he snipes out anyone rushing to the train.

Sam is finding the rest of the bombs, disarming them to the best of his ability.

You hiss in pain when you get hit in the jaw, but Bucky is there smashing the butt of his gun to the back of their head as you blink away the tears. His hand finds your jaw, assessing the damage before turning and nodding to the path you guys need.

“So…. what’s the plan after this?” He asks, huffing as he gets to the slate you had originally been planning on clearing.

“After this? Probably dinner.” You laugh, bending to break the controls. He adjusts himself so you were back to back, him watching to make sure you were good.

“I mean…. After this mission.”

“I….. I want to finish the list.” You answer, tearing out a board to access the rest of the control panel.

“Does that list still include me?” He blurts, making you freeze. When you don’t answer he looks down to see you already staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You saw that?”

“On your list. Highlighted and everything.” He nods, snapping his attention to a thud across the way, finding it empty. It was enough to get you back to work, focusing on the wires and buttons again. “I would understand if you wanted to-”

“I don’t anymore.” You snap. “I don’t think I ever would have been able to but it’s not like I planned to make it far after I got out. I didn’t have a plan. Everyone else had a plan and I was left! I was tortured and maimed for wanting that freedom, and when the time came I was the only one that had nothing to live for.”

You were seething, and he could only agree. He hated the other widows for what they did to you, that would never be forgiven.

“I wanted a family. That’s all I wanted.” You whisper, finally breaking the right chord. The lights immediately die out and the train lurches as it comes to a complete stop.

“Is that still what you want?” He whispers back, holding his hand out for you to grab and help you up.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“You are the only person in this entire universe that deserves that.” He snaps. “And it’s important to me that you know that.”

“It’s not like I have much of a future open.”

“Well I think you have a bit of a future in the vigilante game if you ask me.” He smiles.

I don't start it, but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

“I’m sorry, you used to what?!” Sarah laughs, coming around the kitchen counter to grab a bottle of soda from your hand, eyes wide. “Dip your knives in lethal poison.”

“It made things easier. Even if I didn’t hit a vital organ I still knew the job was done.” You explain, shrugging a bit as she laughs. You still got nervous when talking about your past, but Sarah seemed anything but judgemental.

Sam's sister ended up being your very best friend on this earth, which surprised you to no end. You loved her kids and you loved her. You especially loved girls night because you never thought this would be an option in general. Nonetheless you had friends now. You had a home, with a silly little welcome mat that was left on the porch for the trick or treaters every year.

The very same one that was getting trampled on every time Sarahs kids ran through with your adopted children, covered in mud and laughing loudly.

“Hey! Mind your mess!” She snaps out but you can’t stop smiling as you watch your adopted 4 year old chase after one of her sons.

“What are you up to?” Bucky asks, coming in from the garage with Sam and Joaquin smiling from ear to ear as he rushes to kiss at your jaw.

“We are getting ready.” You laugh, shooing him away.

“For?”

“The Eras movie. You have daughters now Barnes. You need to get with the program.” Sarah scoffs playfully, making her brother laugh as they pick up the snacks and head to the living room.

“Hey…. I just wanted to say thank you for your help on the mission the other day.” Torres smiles before following the rest into the living room leaving you with Bucky.

“Hear that? Vigilante shit right there.” You laugh, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Still waiting for you to kill me.” He whispers against your lips, winking before heading to catch your daughter as she tries to dash past, making her laugh loudly and reach for you.

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astranne · 2 years

Text

MY LADY BRIDE !genshin impact

pierro x fem!reader

words // 1.2k

notes // this is part of the #marry a harbinger collab @pyroxeene and i created and part of my lady wife series. the general idea has been sitting too long in my drafts, and now i finally found the motivation to actually finish this. the collab is still ongoing, so if you'd like to participate too, you still have some time!

warnings: only pierro pov, dottore and with him the usual chaos and slaughter that follows him everywhere (a mention of a bonquet made out of limbs)

extra notes // i would be very glad if as many as possible could reblog this, best with tags because i‘m not showing up there 😭 it’s my first time and right before my hiatus… i hope this will solve itself, because i really don’t have the time to worry about this now, not when we‘re flying in two days ._.

my lady series masterlist

It was the wedding of the year. No matter what the laws of Snezhnaya said, the Harbingers were royals in everyone's eyes. How could they not be, when they directly served under her Highness and led the infamous Fatui?

And when the first Harbinger, the Jester, announced that he would take a wife... it was the wedding of the year, if not the wedding of the century.

The ceremony would be attended by everyone who was anyone. Servants whispered about the most extravagant wedding they've ever seen, or well, prepared. Their words carried wide and vast, and soon nobles, rich merchants, and members of the Fatui heard of the rumors too.

Yet no one dared ask Pierro about the wedding or his future bride. They didn't want to risk his wrath, no matter how curious they were. Well, some dared to. His work colleagues all teased him for finally settling down, and all they got in response was an unimpressed glare. How else should Pierro answer the teasing of the youngest Harbinger? He didn't know much about love anyway, so he should shut his mouth, was what Pierro thought several times about Childe.

Pantalone had been a big part of the wedding preparations, so Pierro wasn't too bitter about the few teasing words that left the younger man's lips. Still, Pierro would've preferred it if they wouldn't tease him at all. There was simply no time for it. Just because he would be married soon didn't mean they could slack off with their work. And they did indeed slack off with their workloads and assigned missions.

The Fair Lady of the Harbingers didn't behave like a lady at all. Instead of getting the gnosis from Barbatos, she sent a letter from Mondstadt, full of mirth and teasing words. Pierro was very close to not inviting her to the wedding.

Dottore wasn't any better and gave him a bunch of limbs, still bleeding and making a mess of the floor. And then he had the gall to call this monsteraty a bouquet and demanded that he give it to his fiancé. He should've just chucked it right in his face, instead of telling his assistant to silently let this mess vanish.

And all the other harbingers weren’t better. Their comments and teasing words just worsened his mood the moment he saw one of them.

But it was his darling lady, his fiancé, his soon to be bride, who always calmed him down. Not that he was a temperamental man, but his fellow Harbingers always brought the worst out of him. Sometimes he asked himself why he was doing this. Sometimes he just... wanted to leave. And he could. Take his lady love and leave the harbingers. But then he watched how Childe almost set the training grounds on fire again and got chased through the palace by the Captain and couldn’t bring himself to leave. The world would end if he didn’t keep them in check.

This is why he tolerated their teasing and domineering personalities so that at the end of the day, he could finally fall into the arms of his darling lady, grumble about his day, and simply enjoy the time spent with her.

Soon they would be finally married and he could call her his lady wife, his love, simply his. And yet, every time he thought about the moment he would call her his wife, his mouth went dry and his heart started beating faster. He was nervous, oh so nervous- what if something went wrong? There could be so much going wrong, and Pierro wanted this to be the perfect day for his love, so she could always think back and remember their wedding day with a smile.

But he couldn’t show it. His face carried the usual scowl, only melting into a small smile when he saw his love. He had to be steady and calm. He was her husband and the strong man in her life. Not that his wife to be needed any protection, but the instinct was still in him. Arlecchino would tell him to knock it off and stop behaving like the stereotypical, overprotective husband. And he knows he is, and he knows he shouldn't be, it was wrong of him to do so.

Of course, he knows this. His lady was strong, a powerful woman in her own right, and yet…and yet he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe and satiated, without any complaints. It was his duty as a husband, his duty to love, cherish, and protect her. And he would. This he promised himself the moment it became clear he would marry her.

—

When the day of the wedding finally came, Pierro planned to prepare himself alone. He could clothe himself. He has always done it.

But then his fellow Harbingers barged into his room, chattering with each other and carrying packages upon packages with them.

"What are you doing?" Pierro hissed. Then he started slowly backing away from Signora’s disapproving gaze at his choice of clothing.

"We’re here to save the day," chirped Columbia, and started humming one of the many tunes he had chosen for the wedding.

"No", he refused, batting Arlecchino’s hands from his hair.

"We definitely need to fix this," mused Pantalone, and started opening the packages they brought in. Then he went through coats and alternations of their harbinger uniforms, always picking them up and holding them in the air, only to put them away after a few seconds.

Pierro sighed and prepared for an exhausting morning, while the harbingers around him chattered and chirped away, eyes gleaming with mirth. They knew exactly that he didn’t want them here, and yet they ignored his silent wish for peace.

—

Time passed fast, and before Pierro truly realized it, he stood in front of his majesty, for she would be the one to bless his marriage. Behind him, people whispered and pointed, awed at the extravagance of his wedding.

And suddenly, the nerves hit. His breath hitched, his hands started shaking, and he started to feel uneasy. He would marry the woman he loved, link himself with her, exchange vows for life-

The sharp gaze of the Tsaritsa pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts and he took a deep breath. He couldn’t hesitate now. He had to stay strong and steady for his wife to be.

—

His eyes widened when the doors of the hall finally opened and his darling lady finally showed her in her wedding dress. Her steps were slow, her long veil being carried by two young children, and her white dress falling and folding like a river, trailing after her elegant person.

A small smile was on her face, her hands full with a bouquet of roses, which she passed to one of the children accompanying her. She took his offered hand, stepping next to his right side.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, and the radiant smile she gave in return almost made him gasp. A smile full of love, directed at him. He would marry her; he is marrying her. His lady, his darling, his wife. The woman he will live with from today until his death.

—

And so he spoke his vow, to love and cherish her, to protect and take care of her, till the end of his days.

ASTRANNE 2022

#marry a harbringer #genshin impact #pierro x reader #pierro x you #pierro x female reader #genshin x reader #genshin x female reader #genshin fatui #genshin harbingers #harbingers x reader #pierro #genshin the jester #🪐 galaxy milky way #my lady series

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sugar-omi · 10 months

Text

bruh it feels so weird to be writing smth that isnt a request... ily guys sm though tysm for sending your requests all the time, rn im taking this time to finish everything in my drafts + inbox n then i'll open my requests again 👍 anyway this was gonna turn into smut but i decided a part 2 will be best, so here are some crumbs for now <333

tags : Suggestive, all readers, drabbles (there is no cohesive order in the way things happen imma be honest), flirting, you know you have a crush on each other, touchy cove, (mention of) drinking, reader likes long hair, the length of cove's hair is up for interpretation (imagine his hair is like any of the step 4 hairstyles)

[inspired by this post: you n cove teasing/flirting with each other]

synopsis : you and cove are in college and since you're so busy, cove hasn't gotten his hair cut and it's getting longer than he's ever had it, of course you need to tell him how attractive he is with it long.

[part 2] [part 3 / TBA (this will b smut👍👍)]

it comes up when you're sitting on the floor of terry's dorm.

cove is looking at a long strand of hair he's pulled into view, scrutinizing the length. "I'm probably gonna go in for a trim... or do have my dad do it, it'll be cheaper that way." he laughs

you come in from behind, balancing drinks in your hand and passing it out to your circle.

"no way!" you start, "top three worst things a man can do is cut his long hair." you laugh, joking but serious on your opinion

"what makes you say that?" Miranda giggles, leaning into Terry.

you take a swig of your water. it's room temperature n does nothing to ease your throat.

"long hair is sexy."

cove feels his heart skip, suddenly feeling very hot and it's not from the smirnoff-ice you and lee bought during her visit last weekend.

"what's the other two?" Terry asks

"be a dick and insult your mother." you smile, taking the dice to the board game you're playing and rolling.

your piece moves up three squares, player orange owes you money.

Terry curses. "fuck! you're robbing me, man!"

you cackle, taking Terry's fake dollar bills.

coves still stuck on what you just said, and you keep grinning even when realize how red he is.

you can't help but tease him a bit more than usual today. maybe it's because of how he's wearing his hair and his glasses are hanging low on his beautiful nose, and it makes his face look so goddamn irresistible.

maybe the alcohol has you a little more brave today, just enough to make your heart not jump out of your chest at 100mph and for your lips to be a bit looser than usual.

"you look sexy like that cove.." you purr, tangling your hand his hair.

you push his bangs up to show his forehead, some shorter hairs falling out and the rest dropping back against his face when you reach around to tug on his work-in-progress ponytail.

you lean in to whisper in his ear, not caring that your friends are just a game board across from you, Miranda hiding her face n Terry making silent gagging and booing faces.

enjoying how red his ears are and how frantic he looks, you cup your hand as if to share a secret. "you make me wanna fuck you when you look like this.."

you lean back, leaving cove to process what you just said.

honestly, the two of you have been in this song-and-dance for years ever since you were 17, it started becoming unbearable, but not unbearable enough to do something.

for now anyway

it was from subtle glances to tangling your pinkies, than it went to undressing each other with your eyes from the other side of the couch. and then when you got into college it was mouthing dirty or suggestive lyrics to tease the other, and it was cove's hands on your back, hips, and leg as he pushed past you or held you down with his large palm on your thigh as he told Terry to take the backseat since you're his copilot today.

and his fucking smile when he said it, the little wink he gave...

and now it's been one hair away from dirty talking each other in the library.

you and cove are looking for the books for your shared class and he points out how the student working the front desk is giving you gaga eyes.

you laugh, a bit nervous at the thought.

cove stalks behind you, hands in his pockets and with the RBF on his face he looks lazy and mean.

"every time we go out, someone is checking you out... why are you so pretty y/n?" cove pouts, grumbling.

you roll your eyes. he's a bit tired from getting little sleep so he could study for the test he had this morning, and that cove is always a bit more... husky.

he licks his lips.

"serious. you're too beautiful to take anywhere.." cove comes up behind you, rest his chin on your shoulder and intertwining his fingers in your hoodie pocket.

you stutter, getting flustered. "c-cove! get off you big oaf!"

cove just hums, hugging you.

you tremble a bit, waiting for him to get off you.

it feels so good and makes you so excited to have him like this, to have his thick voice scratch your ears and now his body heat against you.

he removes his forehead from your neck, his hands taking a firm grip of your hips before he moves away. then in a low voice, scratchy with fatigue. "don't flirt back with anyone else, okay?"

he takes the books from your arms, bringing them up to the counter with a thump, biting back his smile as he watches the dude ring them up with a bit of a scowl on his face.

you flounder for a bit, feeling dizzy like cove just sucked all your life force out of you. it always makes your world shift a little when cove reciprocates your advances or flirts with you unprompted..

you snap out of your thoughts, deciding that the library was not a good place to have a wet daydream, and you rejoin cove as he accepts the books.

this man has ruined you..

#our life: beginnings & always #olba #cove holden x reader #cove holden #cove x mc #cove x reader #cove holden smut #our life cove #cove our life #cove holden x mc #smut #cove holden x mc smut

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jar-of-ectoplasm · 2 years

Text

Just Teasin: La Squadra x Reader

a/n: ehehehe la squadra flirting with/teasing their crush also hi again here is content this has been in my drafts for about a year now and i finally finished it !!!

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, playful teasing, flirting, pre-relationship, a little bit suggestive at some parts, implied short-ish reader, hinted polyamory (sorlato)

~Risotto~

-for someone that's supposed to be the mature, stoic leader of an assassin team he teases you a lot. pretty much any chance he gets, he'll take

-his ways of teasing are more subtle and he doesn't do it around the team very much

-he will definitely scare you, he'll turn invisible and sneak up behind you before grabbing your shoulders and probably making you drop whatever you were holding

How He Flirts With/Teases You:

-Placing his hand on your waist and pressing his chest to your back when he reaches for something you're standing under

-On missions he'll whisper in your ear and stand really really close to you

-Puts his hand on your shoulder and rubs the place between your neck and shoulder with his thumb

-Calls you stuff like cara/caro (dear) or piccolo tesoro (little darling)

~Prosciutto~

-Also another squad member who's supposed to be mature and serious but totally isn't

-Pros will tease you all the fucking time. On a mission? Teasing. Trying to relax at HQ? Teasing. Literally he won't stop

-Even though he does it literally every day, nobody really knows he's teasing you because he doesn't make it super obvious

How He Flirts With/Teases You:

-Resting his hand just above your ass while you two are out in public

-Caressing your cheek with the back of his hand when nobody's looking

-Calling you into his room to pick which shirt he should wear that day (when he doesn't have one on)

-Putting his hand on your thigh/leg when you sit next to him

~Pesci~

-You'd think since he freaks out about how you perceive him he wouldn't mess with you too much right? incorrect.

-Sort of like a high school boy about it tbh, he's more similar to Formaggio in that way even though his mentor is such a stickler about behavior and manners

-Totally gets red in the face if anybody mentions how he acts different around you when you've left the room though

How He Flirts With/Teases You:

-Compares your hand sizes a LOT, you guys could be doing literally anything (including running from an enemy) and he'd make a comment about how your hands were compared to his

-Fake punches you on the shoulder whenever he passes by you; he'll also throw fake slow-motion punches at you and instigate silly "arguments" over the tiniest things

-Pesci is a pretty big dude, he's the second tallest (beat out by risotto obviously) in the group so unless you're also 6'2 he'll steal things out of your hands and make you jump to get whatever it is back

-Always suggests you guys pretend to be a couple when you're trying to blend in when you guys are paired up on missions and he'll play it up a bunch

~Formaggio~

-Literally nobody is surprised about how not-subtle he is when he's flirting with/teasing you

-It'll hardly ever stop either, so get ready for that too. The only time he'll quit doing it is if it's an insanely serious situation (i.e.: someone [not illuso] is dying)

-Like Pesci, he flirts like a teenager, so most of the shit he says to you is really stupid and is more to annoy you than try winning your affection

How He Flirts With/Teases You

-Always always always breaking out some absolutely horrendous pick-up lines on you, he looks up top 50 worst pick up lines and uses them all within the day

-Is also always trying to get you to agree to go on a date with him; a lot of him getting melone, illuso, and ghiaccio to play waiter after setting up some candles in the headquarter's shitty dining room

-Kind of talks to you how he would talk to his cat?? He uses a lot of stupid ass nicknames when referring and speaking to you and breaks out the baby talk to really annoy you

-Hangs all over you. There isn't a single place you could be where he wouldn't immediately follow (except like, the bathroom but you get what i'm saying); he especially loves making himself tiny and chilling out in one of your pockets (whether or not you notice doesn't matter to him)

~Illuso~

-He is genuinely so awful oml

-When you guys are both around the team he makes fun of and is mean to you so much you'd think he hated you

-But, when you're both alone, he's very similar to Prosciutto in the way he speaks to and interacts with you. It's very confusing

How He Flirts With/Teases You

-Like I said, when you're around the team he's a massive prick. He'll pick at every little thing you do; your performance levels on your missions, your stand, your outfit that day (even though he's dressed like that)

-He thinks he's being clever, throwing any suspicions of his feelings towards you away, but everybody just thinks it's super obvious and weird how much he talks about you even when you aren't there

-When you guys are alone though, it's a whole other game. He'll intentionally make his voice lower and softer, so you'll have to be closer to him to hear what he's saying properly. He'll sprinkle in a lot of almost suggestive comments so you can never really tell what he's trying to convey to you

-He'll also turn his prior statements into something he can use to get physically closer to you; holding your face in his hands to "inspect it for any unsightly blemishes" and running his hands along the material of your clothing (and your body, by proxy) so he can "properly gauge how cheap your tastes are"

~Melone~

-Also awful just in a completely different way compared to Illuso

-Very affectionate, almost treats you like a pet with how much he dotes on and touches you

-Obviously this weirdo is gonna say some freaky shit to try getting you flustered or embarrassed

How He Flirts With/Teases You

-Like I said, he's very touchy. He'll drape his entire body across your own when you guys are trying to sit and watch TV, he'll hang off of you when you're trying to cook, he'll have his hands on some part of you as long as he has you within the same general area

-Loves to spoil you with material items too, so he'll drag you along on shopping trips a lot. Most of the time, he wants to get you clothing, so there will be a lot of him picking out some rather revealing outfits and loudly encouraging you to try them on and model for him

-When you guys are paired on long-distance missions, he always books a hotel/motel room with only one bed so the two of you will have to sleep together. You usually wake up with him drooling all over the side of your face, which is gross, but whatever

-He isn't all weird though, Mel keeps a notebook full of everyone on the team's favorite things, and he uses your page quite often. He'll pick up your favorite food or drink if he sees it when he's out, he'll get some random bit of merchandise from your favorite media if he finds it, though he always leaves this stuff right outside your bedroom door instead of giving it to you directly

~Ghiaccio~

-God this guy can't flirt for shit

-He tries really hard to come across as mysterious and cool but he really just...isn't good at it. It makes him look a lot meaner than he already is with how his resting face looks and the way he phrases a lot of his sentences

-Sometimes it can be really cute when you guys are all alone and he decides he doesn't have to keep up his extreme-asshole personality

How He Flirts With/Teases You

-Loves sneaking up on you and demanding you accompany him on a drive; doesn't matter what you were doing beforehand you are in the car and getting a CD booklet shoved into your lap. He's pretty quite during the whole thing, which kinda makes you second guess his intentions with bringing you out into the country at 11 pm, but eventually he'll drop the scowl and work up the courage to keep his hand on your thigh

-Likes spouting a bunch of random facts about literally anything around you so it makes him look smart. It really just makes him look douchey, but he really doesn't know any other way to impress someone

-Sometimes he'll get Melone to have a fake argument with him so he can go to you and just spend time around you. He doesn't know how to ask to hang out with someone without sounding like he's trying to kill them, so this is the best he can do

-Has definitely made the base much colder than it should be and has hidden most of your heavier jackets/sweaters so he can give you some of his own

~Sorbet and Gelato~

-They're both so scary but they're also both really good at making that scary insanely hot

-Gelato is a lot more touchy with you than Sorbet is, and Sorbet definitely is touchy but he's more prone to flirting through words rather than touch alone

-They are so so weird and Gelato definitely bites

How They Flirt With/Tease You

-They both talk very loudly about the prospect of adding a third person to their relationship when you're around; if you have the courage to look at them during these conversations you'll usually find their eyes already on you

-Gelato likes to corner you in a random room in the house that nobody else is in, grab you, them lean in really close to your face until your noses are practically touching. He'll stare at you like that for a couple minutes before giggling like a weirdo and running off to find Sorbet again

-Sometimes Sorbet will call you into the kitchen to help him cook, and while you're reaching for something in the cabinets or refrigerator he'll come up behind you and keep his hands on your waist and whisper some random sexy bullshit in your ear before walking back to the stove

-Sometimes if it's just the three of you in a room, or god forbid the whole house, they'll never leave you alone. Sorbet likes to creep up behind you to scare you while Gelato keeps you in place from the front, effectively trapping you in between the two

#la squadra jjba #la squadra headcanons #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #jjba x reader #risotto nero x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #illuso x reader #formaggio x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader #sorlato jjba #sorlato x reader #sorbet and gelato x reader

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dduane · 1 year

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Hi there! I'm not sure if this is something you've talked about before in another post, but I just finished the first draft of my first novel, and I was wondering if you could talk about what your experience was like getting your first novel edited and published. I have this story that I'm excited about but no idea what to do with it now that I've reached "The End," do you have any advice on what my next step ought to be towards eventually getting it published? Thanks in advance!

First of all: thanks for asking. ...And now I have to warn you that I am possibly one of the worst possible people to ask about what their first novel's publication looked like... as it was completely atypical.

Not that that's going to stop me, mind you. (And you know what? I'm inserting a cut here, because this goes on a bit. Warning: contains [calculated] dissing by old friends, pulp non-fiction, unexpurgated language, unexpected awards nominations, and advice that's worth just what you're paying for it.)

What happened with me and my first book goes like this:...

In the late 1970s I was starting to burn out on psychiatric nursing, and was offered a job as assistant to the novelist and Star Trek ["The Trouble with Tribbles"] writer David Gerrold. I took it happily, as I was in a place in my life where I really needed some kind of change. The work with David was part-time; I also occasionally did special duty nursing shifts to help make ends meet.

Now during this period, I was writing for my own amusement (as I'd been doing all my life from about age eight onward). Right then I was working on a project I'd been tinkering with from my late high school years right through college, nursing school, and my first couple/few years of practice as an RN. This was the background worldbuilding for a vaguely Tolkienesque, somewhere-between-late-Medieval-and-early Renaissance fantasy scenario featuring a couple of moderately unusual magic systems, a sexually diverse culture, and a pair of "These Two Idiots"-style protagonists with complex interleaving problems.

While I was working for David, I had a lot of opportunity to observe, close up, what the life and workflow of a career writer looked like. Slowly, over a year or so, the realization crept up on me that what David was doing, I could do too. And it was at this point that I finally admitted to him that I thought I might want to write as well.

David's (as I later discovered, extremely calculated) eyeroll could probably have been seen from space. "Oy, not another one," he moaned. After which I went away from the abortive conversation pretty much resolved never to speak to him about this again... but also with a single thought filling my brain: You fucking supercilious sonofabitch, I'm going to show you that I'm not just another one.

...I'll never be able to thank him enough for that. Fury can be so motivating. :)

In the aftermath I got busy pulling together my background material with much more focused intent, and beating the most significant parts of it into something that started looking like a plot. It came together with surprising speed and unnerving insistence—one of the very few times in my career when a project, once begun, has simply flung me into the writing chair and insisted that it was the most important thing in my life and needed handling now. And when in the fullness of time David went on vacation, leaving me to house-sit at his place in LA, I immediately started using his very early computer to transcribe my novel's so-far-only-handwritten draft material.

I took what I thought was considerable care to cover my tracks... but not quite enough. On his return from vacation, when he was putting out the trash, David found some of my discarded draft pages, read them, and confronted me (with a certain amount of friendly teasing) about what had been going on. Then he said to me, "What I've seen of this thing doesn't look too bad. Let me see it when you're finished, and if it looks good enough, I'll ask one of my publishers if they want to take a look at it."

So that's what happened. I finished my first draft and a polish of it in about six weeks, and passed it to David. He read it and immediately handed it on to his editors at Dell, who were just starting a fantasy line for which they needed product. Two weeks later, they said they liked the novel and made an offer, which I accepted. Not a vast amount, but respectable enough. So there it was, my first sale: this book. Which then got me nominated two years running for the Astounding Award, and opened the door for the sale and publication of So You Want To Be A Wizard, as well as my earliest Star Trek work and my entry into the animation world.

I remember very little about the editing process, except that it was painless. What was not exactly painless was the book's cover, about which...well, the less said here the better. But the book came out to generally good reviews. So, with this series of events behind it, you can see why as regards first-publication stories, I'm a first-class outlier and should definitely not be counted. (Also to be avoided by new writers if at all possible: the experience of having half their strongly-selling first novel's initial print run pulped in the warehouse* because it was taking up room needed by a new book by a world-famous novelist.) (Whom I have long since forgiven, since it wasn't his fault, and...well, what can you do? Shit happens.)

...Anyway, that's more than enough about me. Now let's talk about you.

My first advice about what to do with the novel you've just finished? Stick it in a drawer (literally or figuratively speaking, whichever suits your case better) and don't look at it for at least a month. Two would be better. You can spend those two months thinking about your next moves... because you need to give those some consideration before you do anything else.

The question that you first need to answer is going to at least partially shape what you do next. And it's this:

Are you seriously considering making a career out of writing?

It's not that it can't be done! Of course it can. But it won't be easy... not at all. Anyone who tells you it will is either just outright lying through their teeth, or trying to sell you something. ...Or both.

Be honest with yourself as you consider this. If you aren't, you may be letting yourself in for considerable pain over a prolonged period... and I'd sooner you were spared that, if you can be. In particular, be clear about the difference between the statements "I want to write" and "I want to be a writer." Often enough people like the sound of the lifestyle and what they see as going with it—the signings, the book tours (physical or virtual), the interviews, the best-seller lists—without any real concept of the grueling, day-to-day, weekends-are-for-other-people, why-am-I-making-less-than-minimum-wage-most-of-the-time labor that underpins it.

If you simply want to write and be published—without the concept of a career necessarily being involved, or the lovely shimmering dreamlike vision of Giving Up The Day Job—you now have work pathways available to you that would've been unimaginable in the previous century. Self-publishing makes it possible for you to get your work in front of many, many eyes without necessarily having to submit yourself to the specific set of trials that go with achieving the initial stages of an intended career. Selfpubbing still has significant unique challenges of its own, of course, which have to be evaluated so that you can tell (as the commercials say) if they're right for you.

But if you're thinking of a career in what's usually being referred to these days as "traditional publishing", then you face a number of challenges that don't necessarily come with the self-publishing end of things. In particular: many publishing houses no longer consider manuscripts that come to them un-agented. So you're going to need to find an agent who's willing to represent your work... and this is a task that no longer looks anything like what it did when I found mine. (Or rather, when he found me, having been recommended to me by one of my editors. I've been with him for even longer than I've been with @petermorwood... and that's saying something. But this is yet another way in which my career's been wildly atypical.)

There is so much that could be said about this subject alone—the business of researching agencies to see which one seems like a good fit for you, the art of writing the perfect query letter to get their attention focused on a given book, and so much more—that I could hardly begin to even skim the surface of it here. There are whole websites devoted to shopping for agents, not to mention how to pitch yourself and your work to a given literary agency.

Let me leave this whole subject here for the moment. We can come back to it another time, because right now you need to be thinking this through. ...This I'll say, however. For the past six to nine months I've been pulling together links to various online resources that can be beneficial to new writers just getting started. These will be available as posts over at the FicFoundry.com site that I'm going to be bringing online before summer. I'm hoping to build that into kind of a compendium site or clearing house for online resources on this subject. We'll see how it goes.

Meanwhile, thanks for inquiring about this. You're standing at the first branching of what I'm hoping will be, for you at least, a fascinating variant of the Choose Your Own Adventure genre. :)