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peachesofteal · 4 months

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soap x cypher masterlist Soap/female reader You missed a check in / 18+ / Your Sergeant commits a war crime for you, hurt/comfort

"It's alright, Cy. It's jus' me. Ghost is standin' watch at the door."

He smoothes the bar of soap over your shoulder, easy and slow, telegraphing his movements the same way he'd try to calm a spooked horse, pressing into their flank with gentle, reassuring pressure. I'm here, his fingers tell you. I'm right here.

"What do ye mean, they missed a check in?"

Laswell, to her credit, is very calm. Always collected in the face of danger, turmoil, and she gestures to the screen, where a blueprint has been replaced with a map.

"They were due in at this checkpoint at 1300."

"Any contact?" Price tilts his head, studying the satellite imagery.

"No. The security detail's gps is showing stationary, but the other vehicle has started to move off course, north." Johnny feels sick. The other vehicle, the one Laswell is talking about, is the one you are in. The one carrying the two analysts and some cut rate american sergeant.

His chair clatters to the floor with bang, fists clenched so tight they shake.

"We'll get 'er, Johnny." Ghost promises, and Price nods, waving them out the door.

"Let's load up."

"I- I don't want to." He doesn't need a clarifying question to understand what you're talking about. He understands you. That's all he'll ever need.

"You dinnae have to. Keep 'em closed for me then, aye? I'll take care of everything." You're still wearing your pants, and your boots, even though the shower is washing water down your body, soaking them until they stick to your skin.

You whine. There are no words spoken, but you fingers twist in the pockets, the belt loops, and he knows.

"Alright, alright. Let's get these off then. I'm going to undo your button and zipper." He murmurs softly, stripping them down your ankles, goosebumps sprouting from your skin as the water splashes against you, raining down onto his hair. His clothes are soaked, stuck to his skin like tar, each flick of his wrist or pull of his arm heavier than usual. He kneels, one knee between your feet, and begins unlacing your boots. "Gonna take yer boots off, now. Then we'll get ye out of everything." You nod. "We'll get ye washed up in no time, get ye into some comfy clothes." He glances upwards, ensuring you heard him, and then taps your calf one by one, urging you to lift a foot at a time as you hold onto his shoulder for support. "There ye go, good girl." He praises once you're nude, rising back to his full height, bar of soap still in hand.

"Johnny." Your press into him, face in his neck, fisting the front of his jacket, trying to burrow yourself beneath his skin. It’s all wrong, how you drift so aimlessly into the ether of somewhere else, lost in the present, in the incendiary magma of a memory he wishes didn’t exist.

"Shhh, wee sweet. I've got ye. I'm here."

"Ye get yer filthy fuckin' hands off her RIGHT NOW." Johnny screams, gives the command at the top of his lungs, Kyle shooting him a nervous look over his scope.

"There's no need to get upset-"

"Shut up." Ghost grunts. "Let the analyst go, an' maybe we'll keep you alive as a prisoner." The woman shakes her head, and then shoves you forward, closer, but no father away from the barrel of her gun that rests right at your temple.

"She's my only leverage now." The body of your co-worker is crumpled on the concrete, blood spilled around him like a halo. Johnny's vision dims red.

"Ye dinnae ken who ye've got in your hands." He warns, a click echoing across the room.

Someone is trying to argue with Simon, just outside the door. Johnny can hear it, the frustrated tenor of someone who's about to make a terrible mistake, the irritated grumble that gets silenced immediately by Lt's bark, more than enough persuasion for them to move on to the next floor's showers.

"Cy?" He murmurs, but you don't respond, face still tucked in his clavicle. You've stayed there, curled up against him, letting him clean you, dirt and blood all washing down the drain as you kept your eyes closed and he re-inspected you for wounds. "I'm goin' take ye back to my room." He holds your upper arms, moving you in step with him, directing you out of the shower and onto the mat, where he reaches for the first of many towels, ghosting the texture across your shoulder, then your cheek, before using it as intended, wrapping it around your body and reaching for the next. It's all he can do now; take care of you, get you clean, get you comfortable, hold you while you sleep and stare at the ceiling, recounting every second of today, fixating on the pieces that could have gone wrong, that could have ended your life and lost you to him, forever.

"Cold." Your whisper redirects his attention. Reminds him of his focus.

"I know, is a wee bit, isnae it?" He brought a sweatshirt, one of his, and once he's got you mostly dry, he taps. "Arms up, wee sweet." When your head pokes through the hole, he smiles, even though your eyes are still closed. "There she is, mo ghraidh." Your pointer finger strokes over the middle of your forehead, circling as if you're outlining a target, and then traces up his neck, over his jaw and across his cheek, patting his lips. They curve beneath your touch, eager to do your bidding, pleased by your silent request. "Of course I'll give ye a kiss, Cy, give ye whatever ye want, always."

"Time's up. What's it gonna be?" Price demands, and the gun digs into the side of your head, forcing you downward at an odd angle, panic plainly displayed across your face.

"Johnny." Your voice sings like an off key chorus, an echo of voices too twisted, too shrill.

"It's alright Cy, nothin' is goin' happen to ye." The woman with the gun laughs. It's decadent, believable, like she truly thinks she's going to get away, or take you with her. "I'm goin' to kill ye." He promises. "Whether it's now, or later. It'l be me, wringing out yer last breath."

Her hand moves to your throat and squeezes.

It's enough. More than enough.

"Guess it'l be now, then." And with no announcement, no more second chances, no more second guessing- his finger pulls the trigger.

“You killed her.” Your whisper trembles in the dark. His muscle involuntarily tenses, and relaxes just as quickly, sinking into the mattress, pulling you tighter into his arms.

“An’ I’d do it again. I’d do it a thousand times over to save ye.”

#soap x cypher #soap x reader #peaches writes

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roosterr · 7 months

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Heyyy! I’m not sure if you’re taking requests rn.. BUT if you areee, can I just please get a john price with the prompt “why are you avoiding me?” (Bc I’m a slut for angst) with a large fry on the side? IF NOT I TOTALLY COOL

outside it starts to pour

note: two posts in one month? who am i? i hope this is angsty enough lol, i re-wrote it 3 times bc i wasnt happy with it, its a love hate relationship 🥲 but anyway pls enjoy anon!!!

pairing: john price x gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

summary: in your dreams, you're more than just someone who warms john's bed

warnings: fwb, implied smut but no actual smut, angst, miscommunication (i cant help myself), hurt/no comfort, no happy ending

ao3

"why're you avoidin' me?"

the question echoes in your ears, drowning out the war drum of your heartbeat despite the heavy silence that settles between you.

john has a hand around your arm, gentle and barely there but still anchoring you in place like a vice with just his light touch. the back of your mind screams for you to rip yourself free, get as far away from the familiar timbre of his voice and the near-stifling comfort of his smoky scent as you can before he can get you in his web again. but just like always, he's got you right where he wants you.

how many times have you been pulled behind the door he was halfway out of? and how many times have you been ushered back out again with your hair and heart a mess, just to pretend like nothing happened? always one foot in your little secret and one in his reputation, never fully with you; that's how the captain operated, and you feel like a fool for ever believing otherwise.

a squeeze to your arm brings you back to the present, suddenly all too aware of his fingers against your skin and his eyes boring into your own with an intensity that has your heart fluttering – against your mind's better judgement.

"i'm not." your response is a mutter, your gaze dropping from his to the hardwood ahead of you. it's unconvincing, even to you, but he had no right to question you like this.

"you are." he shoots back, gruffly and without a second of hesitation. from the corner of your vision you see his brow furrow, casting shadow over those eyes that always captivate you so mercilessly.

a sigh escapes his chest at your lack of response, his eyes darting from one end of the hallway to the other before giving your arm a miniscule tug, nodding his head back towards his office.

that's how it always starts. the thought makes your heart clenches painfully. "stop. i don't want to–"

"no." he interrupts firmly, with a shake of his head so resolute it almost has you believing that was never his intention to begin with. your eyes gravitate towards his again, and there's a spark of something, under the surface, when his thumb strokes your skin, dipping just below the hem of your sleeve. "talk to me, what's wrong?"

the urge to give in is tempting, to fall into his arms like you always do, just how he wants, how he expects you to. this time, however, you're determined to avoid his trap.

"it's nothing," you avert your gaze again, sighing in the same moment you take his wrist and slowly pull his touch from your arm, "just leave it."

john tuts. "it's not nothin', though, is it?" he asks, sidestepping into your line of sight again and ignoring the pointed look you give him. "talk to me."

if he cared for you the same way you do for him, his persistence would be endearing, but you know better. you're a good soldier who just so happens to be a good fuck too; that's all you are to him, and that's all you'll ever be.

"i told you. drop it." you shake your head, face creasing into a frown as you turn on your heel. if you have to endure any more of his deceiving sympathy, you know you'll only end up caving to his desires. you're not that strong, and that's why you need to keep as much distance as possible between you.

"you're somewhere else, lieutenant." he calls after you, stopping you in your tracks before you can get too far. you don't bother to turn around, but he continues anyway. "if you can't get your head back in the game, i can't risk havin' you out in the field."

your indignant laugh bounces off the walls.

"it's just that easy for you, isn't it?" there's a lump in your throat as you force the last two words over it, one you hope neither of you will acknowledge.

"and what's that supposed to mean?" he scoffs, the sound of his boots taking a few damning steps closer to where you stand, still with your back to him.

"i don't know why i'm offended, you always do this." you mutter, bringing your hand up to smooth over the crease of your brow, the tremble there barely noticeable but telling of your fragile state.

he doesn't respond this time, waiting for you to elaborate with what you're sure is a glare directed at the back of your head.

"you find something to take, and take, and take from," you spin around to face him again, which proves to be a mistake because the second you meet his concerned eyes, you can feel the sting of tears in your own. "and as soon as it's not useful to you anymore, you chuck it away like yesterday's leftovers."

the silence that follows your outburst is so tense it weighs you down. you can't will yourself to move, to tear your gaze away from him even when your vision blurs. it takes a moment for you to realise just how ragged your breathing has become, feeling the hard rise and fall of your chest over your racing heart as you come down from your anger.

"that… that's not what this is." john utters, his face morphing into something you coin as pity, and it makes your heart squeeze all over again.

"don't. i told you to fucking leave it…" your voice is weaker than before, and you curse yourself for showing this amount of weakness in front of him, because now you know he knows that it was never just sex to you. he never meant that little to you.

by some miracle you manage to blink away the tears before they can fall and embarrass you further. you wait for him to say something, in a painful sense of awkwardness that's never been there before, but all he does is stare at you.

"i can't do this anymore." you whisper, the words muffled through the blood rushing in your ears. you fix him with another scathing look before turning to leave for the second time tonight.

"wait." he calls your name as you walk away, quickly moving to catch up with you, but you have no desire to listen to him, not anymore. he gives you no time to react when he rushes to stand in your path, grasping both your shoulders to stop you when you try to sidestep him. "for fucks sake, just hold on."

there's a conflicted look in his gaze that seems to pull his expression down with it. if you had anything left to give you might've felt bad for being the cause, but it's been months of this game of cat and mouse, and you're drained.

"it was a mutual arrangement," he urges, his eyes search yours, something you can't discern muddying the deep blue as they dart across your face.

you give a watery scoff, rolling your eyes in an attempt to rid yourself of the ache his touch brings you. "there was no arrangement. you're not an idiot, john, you knew how i felt about you."

"what?" he has the audacity to sound confused, and you have to resist the urge to scoff again. "how you felt about me? what're you saying?"

"i think it's pretty obvious by now." you mutter, folding your arms over you chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. he hasn't taken his eyes off you once, your skin prickling under his intense stare. "i'm an idiot for thinking this would go any other way."

there's another heavy pause, john opens his mouth and closes it again like he was fighting with himself on what to say. the way your throat has constricted makes it hard to breath without sobbing, your breath coming out laboured and uneven.

"do you regret it?" he finally asks, his fingertips pressing into your flesh almost imperceptibly, leaving your skin tingling even though your shirt.

it was self-destruction, giving in to him every time even though it felt like a thorn in your heart. to allow yourself to live in the fantasy that he loved you while you were in his arms, just to have that warm feeling shattered when he told you to get dressed.

"yes."

you regret falling for someone who would never love you back.

"it's over. let me go, captain." you whisper, a plea for him to release you from whatever spell he's got you under, even if you don't really mean it.

his hands drop from your shoulders, letting one curl into a fist at his side and bringing the other up to scratch his beard in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. you know it's for the better, but the knowledge couldn't stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. you brush past him, feeling his gaze burning into you as you lean away to avoid touching him.

he doesn't stop you when you walk away this time.

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #roosterr writes

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y0urzayn3 · 3 months

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Genshin Men finally Confess

For everyone who’s still single, (like me) enjoy valentines with these Genshin men

Characters - Zhongli, Ayato, Wriothesley, Diluc, Alhaitham x GN! Reader (separately)

Tw- Kaveh’s is suggestive, but the rest are fluff

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧

He was the lord of geo, and you assured him throughout the course of the archon war. You helped him carefully strategise and plan his attacks, just as a good adviser should. Like Zhongli, you too dawn a geo vision, one that is tied around your neck with an amber ribbon made of nothing but the finest silk in all of Liyue.

Of course he was aware of the day known as Valentine’s Day, that celebrated nothing but love and bonds.

This, he thought, was the perfect day to confess to you the secrets he had held for so long.

On that day, he calls you to a cliff overlooking the entirety of Liyue, right at the time of dusk.

“Y/n,” he says holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers and a box of chocolates, “will you make me the happiest man alive and become my significant other?”

He was prepared for rejection, but what he didn’t expect was for you to jump into his arms with an excited squeal and a loud yes.

As the sun set in the background, you two shared your first kiss.

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧

As the Yashiro Commissioner walked down the familiar roads of Inazuma city, he noticed the heart decorations and couples roaming around, evidently on dates. He tried to picture himself and you, his assistant, as some of them but quickly snapped out of it when he noticed what he was doing. Then he thought, why shouldn’t he spend Valentine’s Day with you? So, as soon as he finished his patrolling, he rushed to you. “Y/n, clear my and your entire schedules for tomorrow, we’re going on a date.” He then practically ran out of the room in embarrassment and left you blushing. Everything after that happened so fast that he didn’t even realise it and now here he is on his first ever date with you. You are at a small boba shop and Ayato decided to tease you by stealing some from your lips. Ayato knows that work is going to pile up after this, but seeing your flustered face makes so worth it.

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧

Kaveh, a masterful achietect, whose only formidable opponent in the field was you. Although everyone knew you two despised each other, the acting grand sage decided having you two work on a project together might just help you get closer. (He had enough of Kaveh cribbing about something you said or did) To make matters worse, he had you two share the same dorm! Thus, the tedious project began. As you started working with Kaveh, you realised he wasn’t so bad after all. The insults you threw at him each other soon turned to words of affirmation and some flirtatious lines in private. At last, after many months, the project was completed on Valentine’s Day. The two of you decided to go out for a drink to celebrate. The night ended with lipstick marks and hickeys, looks like you two got a lot closer than the grand sage intended huh 👀.

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧

As the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, Wriothesley occasionally makes his visits to the surface, to ensure that everything is in order. On one of his visits, he came across your small cafe. As he entered, he was greeted by a homely decor and you, who were standing at the counter. Blissfully unaware of his post, you casually asked him what he would like. It was love at first sight for him. After the incident, he often visited your cafe and the two of you became good friends. He actually loved the dishes you served him so much, he asked you to teach him. So here he was, on the day before Valentine’s, helping you prepare what you would need the next day. Unbeknownst to you, he only insisted as he wanted to whip up a little something for you too— a box of macaroons iced with hearts.

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧

Alhaitham often looked down on people, he found them to be much less intellectual than he preferred. That was until he met you, someone who was on par with him in academics. But what he truly loved about you, was your bubbly nature. He found himself looking forward to your untimely visits. Then it hit him. Like a downpour of bricks on his head. He liked you, romantically. Luckily for him, he’s read countless romance novels, and already had something in mind. On Valentine’s evening, he took you to Mawtiyima Forest for some stargazing. As the two of you admired the intricate constellations, he whispered a subtle “Isn’t the moon beautiful today?” in your ear. He knew you understood.

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧

a/n- for those confused, the phrase “isn’t the moon beautiful today?” is a poetic way of saying I love you.

belongs to @y0urzayn3, please don’t steal my work.

#zhongli x reader #ayato x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin wriothesley #Genshin ayato #genshin zhongli #Genshin Kaveh #Genshin Alhaitham #Wriothesley fluff #ayato fluff #zhongli fluff #kaveh fluff #alhaitham fluff

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viking-raider · 22 days

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Syverson Family War

Summary-> You've just gotten off a 12-hour shift at the hospital, only to return home and get swept up into a Syverson Family War, between your husband and three children.

Pairing-> Austin "Sy" Syverson/Reader

Word Count-> 3.2k

Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Light Teasing, Soft!Sy, SAHD!Sy, Nurse!Reader

Inspiration-> This Instagram Video (If this isn't Sy vibes, idk who Sy is!)

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!

Divider by-> @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

You were more than excited to be home after a nearly twelve hour shift at the hospital. Your back throbbed and your feet were screaming at the top of their arches from running up and down the ER department. You didn’t not even bother gathering up your tote of stuff, as you got out of your car, since you had the next two days off. So, they would wait until a two hour long bubble bath and a nap with eternity.

But upon entering your modest, two story Ranch house, you were bombarded by silence. Your eyes narrowed as they scanned the dining room to your left and living room to your right, ears pricking up for the slightest movement from the bedrooms upstairs.

Something was clearly off. It was almost never this quiet in the Syverson household.

There was always some sort of ruckus or chaos in motion. Your husband blasting music in the garage, where he had set up a small work-out area or telling off whatever game was playing on the enormous tv in the living room. If it wasn’t Sy, it was a combination of your three kids. Your two boys wrestling each other over a toy or giggles, or your daughter discovering a new, little critter from the backyard and bringing it in, before promptly losing it. Or all three kids getting into mischief with each other somehow.

But when it was silent, you knew there were real shenanigans afoot.

You drew in a deep breath, mustering what energy you had left inside yourself, for Syverson Madness. “Guys! I’m home!” You called out, swinging the front door shut with a little more strength than usual, as you moved a step deeper into the powderkeg. “What are you nuts up to?” You mumbled to yourself, moving towards the living room, still trying to keep yourself alert for any kind of trap or scare.

Little good it did, as a strong hand suddenly grabbed your elbow and yanked you backwards into the dark portal of the laundry room door, with a yelp. The hand shifted to your mouth and the door closed with a soft click.

“Ssshh.” Sy cooed at you, moving his hand away. “Gotta keep quiet, Sugar Butt.” He chuckled at you.

You could hear the smirk on his bearded face, before he clicked on the tactical flashlight he was carrying. You looked him over in the dim light, discovering him in his full Army tactical gear, minus his bare feet. He even sported his night vision goggles clipped to his helmet.

“What in the he-” You were about to demand, scanning him again, but spotted one of your son’s Nerf Rifles strapped to his back. “Give me that!” You huffed, gobsmacked, as you took the light and started checking him and the laundry room out. “Good Lord, Almighty!” You laughed, shaking your head.

He had a Nerf pistol in his thigh holster, a pump gun on the dryer, a blaster beside that, and copious amounts of ammo on the washer, with pop grenades. Which you knew were filled with either baby powder or flour from the last time a Syverson War had been declared on the house.

You looked up at your husband, bottom lip trapped between your teeth for a moment. “How long has World War Syverson Seven been going?” You asked, completely amused by how lost Sy got into playing with your kids, and how much they loved it when he did.

Sy looked at his watch. “Since just after breakfast. Myles chose violence and shot Ada in the back, while she was trying to color a picture. Tears ensued, which caused Colt to declare revenge on Myles, in Ada’s name.”

“You got roped into this, how?”

“Ada got in on it, insisting she didn’t need a man to defend her honor…”

“That’s my girl.” You chuckled, smirking.

“It is.” Sy laughed back. “But, in defending her own honor, she shot me in the leg, while I was trying to get them to chill out.”

You nodded your head, seeing all the pieces fall into place. “Which, obviously, by the Syverson Code, requires you to defend your own honor.”

“Obviously, Angel!” Sy answered, faking outrage. “You should know that, after fifteen years!”

“Fifteen years, and I’m still jotting things down in the Syverson Code of Conduct booklet!” You laughed, shaking your head, there were a lot of things Sy lived and would die by.

They were many of the things that made your heart swell with love for the burly, ex-Army vet.

“So, how do I configure into this madness?”

“You just got home from a super long shift, Sugar.” He answered, brow pinching. “You’re an innocent bystander. I just had to save you before one of those hellions out there shot you.”

“My savior.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes and kissing him. “My back and arches appreciate you.”

“The Lair is off limits, per usual.” He informed you. “We just have to make it out of here and upstairs.”

“Quite the way.” You commented, mentally mapping your and Sy’s route out of the laundry room, through the living room and entryway, then finally up the stairs and home free to the master bedroom, which was referred to as the Lair, where you could rest without having to worry about the family war.

“All right, Captain, what’s the plan?”

He gave you the Syverson wink and reached over your head, there was a sharp click and from outside the laundry room, you heard the kids’ screech. Sy had thrown the power switch to the house, plunging it into the darkness. You chuckled, smirking, understanding his tactic now.

“Stay close.” He whispered to you, clicking his ammo to his vest on, before moving to the door. “The enemy is sneaky and uncivilized.” He said, pressing his body against it, listening carefully to the other side.

“Like their father.” You mumbled under your breath with a snort, huddling yourself against his back.

“I’d say more like their mama.” Sy commented back, reaching back to pop you on the bum, then slowly cracked open the door.

You shuffled out after him, casting glances over your shoulder every few seconds. It was easy going, getting through the living room. Sy had defended it mightily throughout the day, so the kids had become shy about entering their father’s domain. You trusted Sy to protect you, from everything, your kids included. Silly as that was to think.

“We have movement at 12!” Sy called out, catching your nine year old, Myles, through his night vision in his fort, consisting of the dining table and chairs that he was hunkered down underneath, belly crawling from one end towards the other, closing the gap between himself and the entryway. “He’s under the table. A sneaky little sniper boy.” He snickered, shouldering the Nerf-AR resting against his side.

You scrunched yourself up behind Sy’s wide and muscular back as Nerf Darts started whizzing by, striking the scuffed wood floor or sticking to the walls. Both Sy and Myles laughed maniacally as they shot at each other; tossing weak insults on top of it.

“Milk drinker!” Myles shouted, hustling to reload.

“Lizard eater!” Sy shot back, smirking.

“Now, boys!” You scolded weakly, snorting.

They continued their assault, Sy guiding you towards a pocket the bottom stairs provided coming down into the foyer, allowing you to take cover and him to shoot through the bars of the steps.

“Are you hit?” You asked, playing along with the game.

“Nothing I’ll die from.” He answered, reloading his weapons. “But, you can be a good nurse and kiss them all better.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“That’s cheating!” Myles yelled out.

“Well, If I was over there, I’d do the same thing to you, Bud!” You called back, planting a kiss on Sy’s cheek, his well-groomed beard tickling your skin.

“An aid relief truce then?” Myles suggested, poking his head out from under the table.

“Certainly not!” Sy barked back, popping a Nerf dart off over his son’s head, sending him scurrying back into his fort. “She’s my nurse! I found her out wandering the battlefield, unprotected. If you wanted her to be your nurse, you should have found her first, yourself!”

“I almost did! Before you kidnapped her!” Myles huffed, hotly. “You’re holding her hostage!” He suddenly insisted. “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll rescue you!”

“Oh my, a hostage situation.” You sighed, licking your lips. “I appreciate your devotion, son.”

“Ha.” Sy scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, boy. I’m escorting this lovely lady to the Lair.”

As Sy and Myles argued over who was going to have the pleasure of accompanying you upstairs, you caught a slight movement behind you and Sy, lurking in the darkness of the living room; moving slowly. It vanished behind the couch, and for a moment you thought it was just Aika, but when something popped up over the back of the couch, then quickly ducked down again, you were then positive it wasn’t the old girl. But your Daddy’s girl, Ada. Of all the children, six year old Ada was the most like her father. She’d been attached to Sy’s hip from the moment she left your womb. Hanging on Sy’s every word, movement and action, that sometimes it spooked you.

So, watching her stealth around in the dark of the living room was both impressive, amusing and a tad terrifying. Especially since you knew the little hellion was coming for revenge on her father and brother. There were no alliances between them during a Syverson war. You were the only ally allowed to go between the four of them. Mending wounds, mostly pretend ones, but sometimes there were real ones. Sometimes, you’d team up with one of them, to take on the other three.

“On your six! In the living room, babe!” You warned, snagging the Nerf pistol from Sy’s thigh holster as he reacted, purely by instinct, removing one of his baby powder pop grenades, tossing it behind him without looking, trusting your instruction.

Ada startled, surprised that you had noticed her, followed by a cloud of baby powder obscuring her view. She came to a halt, upon hurdling the back of the couch, in an attempt to overtake you and Sy. You took aim and fired, the Nerf dart hitting her square in the chest.

“Nice shot, hon.” Sy nodded, patting your leg, then called out to his daughter. “Sorry, Cricket, but that’s a kill shot.” He told her, his voice soft, but uncompromising.

Ada huffed, pressing her lips together. “Not fair, Mama isn’t supposed to shoot us! She doesn’t have anything to avenge!” She protested, crossing her arms.

Sy chuckled, cocking his head at her. “Mama has her own special rules in our Wars, you know that, Cricket.”

“I’ll come kiss it better, but you know Daddy’s five minute rule.” You chimed in, feeling bad about it, you honestly hadn’t meant to hit her, it was just a lucky shot.

But rules were rules. You could go and kiss her boo-boo better, allowing her to enter the War game again. However, Sy had made a rule that anyone hit with a Kill Shot had to be dead for at least five minutes, before you could render aid to them.

“All right.” Ada sighed, before flopping to the floor with a dramatic sound.

“Where were we?” Sy asked, then nodded. “Right, Myles, kindly allow me to escort my Nurse upstairs.”

“No deal, Pops.” Myles replied, shaking his head.

“Can I just go upstairs on my own?” You asked, peeking at your son through the spindles of the stairs.

Myles was quiet for a moment, considering. “Only if I get to keep you to myself for an hour!” He finally answered.

“Oh, he drives a hard bargain, that son of yours.” You teased Sy, tickling the back of his neck.

“That he does.” Sy agreed, shivering, as he brewed over Myles' offer. “You can have her for thirty minutes!” He negotiated with him.

“Thirty minutes!” Myles barked in outrage.

“You have to go to bed in two hours, boy!” Sy reminded him.

“So, give her to me for an hour!”

You smirked and pressed your palm to the base of Sy’s neck, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear, so only he could hear you. “Let him have me for the hour, Austin. I’ve been gone for twelve hours, and they have to go to bed in two. It’ll give me a little bit of time with them.” You reasoned with your husband. “We’ll have all night together after they're asleep, and the next two days, when they're at school.”

Sy nodded, rubbing his lips together. “You’re right.” He whispered back to you. “All right, you can have her for an hour, after you let her go upstairs and do what she pleases.”

A muffled yes came from the dining room. “Deal! You’re free to come out, Mama!”

“Thank God! I have to pee really bad.” You chuckled, kissing Sy, before scurrying out of your hiding place with him and started up the stairs, as you reached the top, you wondered where your middle child, Colt, was.

The seven year old was oddly missing in action the whole time the rest of you were battling and negotiating downstairs. As you reached the top, a cry filled the air, startling the life out of you, before a fury of Nerf darts peppered you all over.

“COLT!” You howled at the boy, dashing for your bedroom door and taking cover behind it.

“Colt Nero Syverson!” Sy’s voice called up the stairs. “You know the rules about firing upon your mother!”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Colt’s soft voice whimpered in the dark to you. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s fine, little man.” You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Just mind yourself.”

“Okay, Ma.” He smiled, ducking back into his hiding place; his room.

“Oh, this family.” You sighed again, closing the door and rushing for the en suite, tugging off your shoes as you went. “Ooo.” You cooed, enjoying the feeling of the icy tile on your bare, throbbing feet.

Bladder empty, you splashed some cool water in your face, then got out of your nursing scrubs, replacing them with a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top. You laid down on your and Sy’s enormous bed, dozing off for a couple minutes before getting back up to fulfill the promises you made to Ada and Myles.

“Colt, I’m coming out, please don’t shoot me.” You called through the crack you opened in the bedroom door.

“Okay, Mama!” He called back.

Coming out of the room, you stood at the top of the stairs, but frowned and turned, heading down to Colt’s room. “What are you doing, buddy?” You asked, peeking around the doorframe, seeing he had made a little barricade and was hunkered down behind his bed. “Why haven’t you come down to challenge your dad, brother and sister?”

“Oh, I have, Ma!” He answered, his smile showing off the two front teeth he lost a month before. “I’m just waiting for the most opportune time to go back downstairs to finish off whoever is left.” He sat up on his bed a little more, eyeing you. “How many of them are left?”

You smirked at him, slyly. “You know I’m not allowed to give away information to someone, especially if I’m not teamed up with them, little man.”

“Poop.” He huffed, slapping his mattress and sitting back. “Do you wanna be on my team?” He asked, hopeful.

“Sadly, your Papa had to bargain me off to your brother for an hour, so I could go to the Lair and change.” You informed him, giving him a sympathetic smile. “But, how about this? When it’s bedtime, I’ll come and read to you, whatever you want.”

“Eragon!” He gasped, enthralled again.

“Deal.”

“Deal!”

“All right, wee man, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at bed time.” You cooed at him.

You headed back downstairs, pausing on the middle landing. “I’m coming downstairs, don’t shoot!” You announced to Sy and Myles.

“All clear!” They both called back.

You joined them downstairs, finding them just as you left them.

“Mommy, can I be alive again?” Ada called to you from her spot behind the couch.

“Yes, love, I’m coming right now to fix your boo-boo.” You replied, crossing the entryway and leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “There, sweet girl. All healed and alive again. Off you trot. Why don’t you watch a movie on your tablet, until bedtime?”

“Thanks, Mama!” She giggled, hugging your waist, then ran off.

With your daughter resurrected, you joined Myles in the dining room, and despite the soreness in your body, got under the table with him. “Just you, Colt and your Papa now, big man.” You told him, propping your head up on your hand. “Tough crowd.”

“But I got you, Mama.” Myles countered. “You can heal all my wounds.”

“Mm, that I can.” You nodded, casting your eyes past the table legs and made out Sy’s outline. “But, that’s about all the energy I’ve got for you. Bringing your sister back to life took a lot out of me. So, I can’t help you fight either of them.”

“That’s fine. I can finish them.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers through his tamed, black curls. “I have all the faith in the world in you, my sweet boy.” You cooed at him, lovingly.

“Moooom!” He groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Time’s wastin’, kid!” Sy called out.

“You stay here, mom. I’m gonna sneak around.” Myles said, wiggling back up the table towards the back entry of the kitchen.

“I’ll be here.” You replied, propping your head up on your hand, eyes drooping for a moment.

At least, you thought it was for a moment, until you felt a pair of strong hands grab your ankles and yanked you out from underneath the table, startling you awake from the nap you dozed into.

“Jesus.”

“Naw, just me, Angel.” Sy grinned, helping you up.

“Where’s Myles?” You asked, rubbing at the sleep in your eyes and noticing he wasn’t in his tactical gear anymore, but just a pair of shorts.

“Out cold in bed.” He answered, steadying you with his hands on your hips.

“But…” You frowned, glancing at the stairs over your shoulder.

“Colt came down not long after Myles tried sneaking around me through the kitchen.” Sy explained to you, a proud little glint in his blue eyes. “Took out both of us, the little rascal.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “We found you asleep and they understood you had a long day, and would spend time with them tomorrow, after they came home from school.”

You pressed your forehead against his chest. “What in the world would I do without you?” You cooed, sighing heavily.

“I don’t know what we would do without you.” He replied, encasing you in his muscular arms and resting his chin on top of your head, rocking gently. “Let’s go to bed, love.” He whispered, scooping you up off your sore feet and carried you upstairs, to bed.

You moaned softly, sinking into the mattress as Sy tossed the blankets over you and kissed your temple, before joining.

#henry cavill #henrycavill #viking-raider fics #Syverson #captain syverson #syverson x reader #syverson fluff #cpt syverson #syverson fanfiction #Austin Syverson #Syverson x You #Syverson Family War #Syverson Family War *fic*#Stay at Home Dad!Sy #Soft!Sy #Nurse!Reader

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 29 days

Note

please write some conrad fics, the tag has been DRY

Is there a Aaron Dessner that has produced that is not heartbreaking? The Great war, Tolerate it, Right where you left me, You’re losing me, Would’ve could’ve should’ve. I have nothing against Jack, but when Aaron is involved, things…hit different.

The acronym switching from love of my life to loss of my life *UGLY CRYING*

Warnings: heartbreak

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When coming to Cousins for Belly and Jeremiah’s wedding, you knew it would be impossible to go through a whole weekend of wedding festivities without speaking to Conrad. You tried to avoid him, but he was always right there. In the kitchen talking with Laurel. In the living room with Jeremiah and Belly. In the backyard with Steven helping set up the chairs and tables under Taylor’s instructions.

At least he didn’t come to the wedding with a girl. It would have hurt too much.

‘’I can’t believe our Belly is getting married,’’ you said as you all sat in the living room for the smallest bachelorette party.

There was no male stripper dancing or crazy alcohol consumption like you see in movies. Just matching pajamas, a plastic ‘bride’ crown Anika got online, and sparkling mocktails. Laurel felt out of place among the younger girls, but it was her daughter’s bachelorette. She couldn’t not be there.

Taylor took a cupcake from the table, all decorated to perfection by you. ‘’I would have never guessed she would be the first of us to marry. We all thought it would be you and Con—’’ She stopped herself when she saw Belly looking at you, realizing that if she finished her sentence it would hurt you.

A silence fell and a lump settled in your throat. You brought your drink to your lips, wishing there was alcohol in it. Drowning your sorrows in alcohol is not the solution, but it’s good at temporarily numbing the pain.

I thought that too.

Your parents bought their holiday house in Cousins where you were ten and you had known the Fishers and the Conklins since. Susannah had invited you over to play with her kids — to make friends. Although you were closer to Jeremiah and Belly in age, it was Conrad who got along with you the best. He taught you how to play Uno, came to get you when you swam too far at the beach and helped you clean your dress when stained it eating a blue popsicle. He was always nice to you. Patient and caring. As you got older, he was only looking at you. Everyone noticed, but no one said anything. He’s just always been yours.

Until he wasn’t.

You didn’t want to sour the ambiance or steal the attention from the bride-to-be, so you got up and excused yourself to the bathroom. You closed the door, feeling the quiet sanctuary of solitude envelop you. Memories of you and Conrad flooded your mind, each more painful than its predecessor. Nothing would ever compare to the pain this breakup felt.

Leaning against the sink, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, tears welling up and blurring your vision. You tried to make them go away by fanning your eyes, but they overflowed, carrying with them the weight of five years of heartache.

How could it still hurt after all this time?

With trembling hands, you reached for a tissue, dabbing at your eyes, but the tears kept coming. ‘’Please, stop.’’

In the morning, you woke up on a blow-up mattress in Belly’s room. Your eyes were sensitive from crying and red. You tried to cover it with eye-drops and makeup, but when you came down for breakfast and Belly pulled you in a tight hug, you knew you didn’t do a great job.

Jeremiah eyed the two of you, raising an eyebrow and silently asking what was up, but Belly shook her head.

The rest of the day went without any downpour of tears. A part of the afternoon was spent tanning under the sun and drinking lemonades, relishing in the last moments of tranquility before the evening's rehearsal dinner. The place was going to get filled with family members and other guests soon and it’ll get very crowded.

Steven joined you in Belly’s bedroom as you were getting ready for dinner, still wet from being at the beach with the boys. He tried to get a kiss from Taylor, but she pushed him off as he was dripping water all over her makeup bag. Jeremiah laughed in the doorway, blowing a kiss to Belly before parting to his own bedroom to change.

Although you weren’t the only single person in the room, you never felt more alone.

At the dinner, you sat listening to the speeches about Belly and Jeremiah’s love. Without surprise, Steve made sure to embarrass the couple and Laurel was unable to hold back her tears when her turn came. Childhood stories and teenage anecdotes about their early moments of relationship made the guests laugh and smile.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until Adam inadvertently attributed a story to Belly and Jeremiah, when in fact it was about you and Conrad. The frown on Jeremiah’s forehead as his father continued to speak matched Belly, both of them not knowing what he was talking about.

‘’Eh, Dad, Belly didn’t come to my prom…’’ Jeremiah whispered to his father. ‘’I went to hers and she was wearing a purple dress, not green.’’

Adam paused, his realization dawning slowly. ‘’Oh. You’re right. That was Conrad. I caught him and his girl making out outside the house when they came back. Susannah was out of her mind for allowing her to sleep over…’’

The revelation hung in the air, accompanied by an uncomfortable silence. Your grip on the glass of wine tightened involuntarily, the pressure causing it to shatter in your hand. Shards of glass cut into your skin as crimson droplets mixed with the spilled wine.

Beside you, Taylor gasped in concern, her eyes widening at the sight. ‘’Oh my god, are you—’’

Ignoring the sting of pain and Taylor’s voice, you excused yourself and hurried inside to tend to your injury. You grabbed some paper towels and pressed them over your cuts.

Unbeknownst to you, Conrad followed after you. As you stood there, watching the white soak and turn red, you felt his presence behind you. ‘’Don’t do that.’’ His touch was gentle as he took your hand and removed the soiled paper towels, placing them on the counter. ‘’Never apply pressure to an injury that’s not clean of debris. You’ll push them further in,’’ he advised, the doctor in him speaking. ‘’Let me see.’’

‘’I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,’’ you insisted, attempting to brush off his concern. ‘’Go back to everyone else, it’s almost time for the best man’s speech.’’

But Conrad didn’t budge. ‘’Sit here. I need to check if there’s glass in it.’’ he urged, his tone firm yet caring.

Knowing there was no way out of this, you sat on one of the kitchen stools and let Conrad check your injury. He turned on the kitchen tap and you hissed as the water hit your freshly cut skin, the cool liquid soothing the sharp ache.

You sat there as Conrad tended to your wound in silence, his fingers gentle as he inspected your hand for any embedded glass fragments. You couldn't help but notice the warmth of his touch and the upgraded woodsy cologne, their familiarity causing your heart to flutter despite the pain.

His focus was entirely on your hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. It reminded you of that one time you fell from your bike and he patched up your knee and elbow. Once he made sure there was no glass in it, he went to fetch an antiseptic and gauze from the bathroom.

As he was wrapping it up, you thanked him. A simple ‘thanks’.

‘’Be careful drinking wine, next time.’’ Conrad meant it as a light teasing, but you weren’t in a mood to laugh.

‘’Don’t say anything. Please,’’ you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘’It hurts seeing you — it really hurts. So much that I didn’t want to come to the wedding, but I couldn’t miss Belly’s big day. I couldn’t do that to her. What type of friend would I be?’’ The weight of your words hung heavy in the air between you, the truth of them echoing in the silence of the room. ‘’But being here, watching her and Jeremiah getting married is killing me because that should have been us,’’ you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. ‘’This house is where we met; every corner holds tons of memories of us and it’s haunting me, torturing me since I got here.’’

‘’I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry—’’

‘’You’re sorry? No sorry will be enough,’’ you said. ‘’You told me I'm the love of your life about a million times. You said you would never leave. But you did. I loved you so much— You were it for me, Conrad. It was always you. But now you’re the loss of my life.’’

He said your name, but once again, you didn’t let him speak.

You got down from the stool, the stinging pain in your hand still present. ‘’I should get back outside. Hopefully Laurel knows a way to get blood out of my dress.’’

—

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#conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

Text

Like Betta Fish Do, Part 2

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts.

-----

Jason jolted up suddenly from his practiced slouch at the dinning room table. Absently, he was aware of the conversation falling silent around him, but he barely took notice past the hum of static that filled his ears. It was like a hundred radio stations playing at once. Each one was trying to say the same message— to tell Jason the same information— but it was like it was all in different languages and pacing. And it was getting louder and louder and—

The glass in his hand shattered.

And suddenly it was quiet.

Shards of glass dug into his palm. A blissfully quite part of him was aware of blood and wine dripping down his palm and onto the table. He sucked in a shuddering breath.

“Jaybird?” Dick asked. He was leaned in close next to Jason, but even though Dick had reached out, he didn’t touch. They were all so careful about touching him these days.

Thing were better; the best they had ever been since his return from the dead. There were monthly dinners at the manor and sharing information and the occasional patrol together— but they still were so cautious about touching him. Even Dick, who always put on a smile and an easy air, had an almost minuscule hesitation before he reached out and touched Jason on the good days. On the bad days, Dick didn’t even try. Only Cass would touch him without checking the colors of his eyes first, but she still held back when the signs were obvious. He couldn’t even blame any of them, not any more.

Not even as the Pit whispered to him that it was because they didn’t care enough to try.

“Jay?” Dick tried again.

And Jason didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why. Usually there was some comment, some action, some instigation that made the Pit rear its ugly head and scream. This time there was nothing like that. His vision didn’t even fill with green. It was more like someone had walked over his grave. He didn’t even feel the urge to lay a hand on anyone in the room. There was no violence to any of his family bubbling under his skin like the Pit normally pulled up. He just wanted to get out of there.

“Something’s in Crime Alley,” he said, or he thought he said. He moved to stand, but Dick finally touched him. A heavy hand on his shoulder kept him sitting. He could hear them talking around him, Bruce giving Tim some sort of an order, maybe calling for Alfred. It didn’t matter. He had to get out of there. He had to get back home.

Something was in Crime Alley.

----- The longer that Danny was in the other halfa’s haunt the more sure Danny was that he did not want to meet the halfa. This haunt did not feel good. Danny was sure that the state of this part of the city didn’t help the feeling, not with the rows of condemned buildings, dirty alleys, and overflowing gutters.

He was also pretty sure he’d just passed a drug deal, but Danny was careful not to look too closely. Sure, he couldn’t really be killed if he attracted too much attention, not by something as basic as a gun or knife, but he’d just gotten this hoodie. He didn’t really want to get blood on it.

He also didn’t really want to risk getting caught in his apartments laundry room trying to get that much blood out of something. His was pretty sure neighbors already thought he was was a little shady.

That happened when someone woke up screaming a lot, he guessed.

But the drug deals and run down infrastructure didn’t explain how off Danny felt. The longer that Danny was in the haunt, the more that it felt like his core was roiling. Like something inside it was bubbling up and if he didn’t force it back down it would consume him. It scared him.

Worse, it made him angry.

Danny was more than half worried that if he ran into the other halfa now, he would just punch the other ghost. He may have zoned out on a lot of the princess’ lesson, but he was pretty that was not the right etiquette for anything other than starting a turf war.

Hoping to avoid another battle, Danny made his way as quickly as he could out of the haunt. He could do his shopping somewhere else. The edges of the haunt were surprisingly defined. From one side of the street to the next it was like Danny had jumped into a pool of ice cold water.

All of the fear—

All of anger—

All of the oppressing, consuming hate that he had been feeling were just… gone. Just like that.

Yep. Danny really need to get that ‘please don’t disembowel me’ gift and get the fuck out of here before he ran into the other halfa.

Maybe he could even gift some things to help the other unwind, because boy did the other halfa need to. It’s not like scented candles or chocolate would actually save a soul, but who didn’t like a nice relaxing bathbomb and something nice to eat? Right?

It took longer than Danny expected to find the right sort of store, but it turned out to have almost everything he needed. Bathbombs? Check. One had a nice, warm scent to it: amber and sandlewood and smoke and the other was a nice simple citrus. He figured that range covered the bases. There was even a little basket he could buy and, when he mentioned it was a gift, the staff gave him a small, simple card to write his message on. He filled it out there in the store and tuck into the basket the clerk had done up with a little crinkle cut and a craft paper bow.

On the way back he stopped at the sweet shop he had passed and added a little box of truffles to the basket. For a quick gift he thought it actually looked really nice. If he hadn’t been in a rush he might have done one up for Jazz too. Ancients knew she needed to relax a little more.

As it was, he found another alley to tuck into and transformed back to his ghost form. As soon as he dropped off the gift, he planed to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to risk a delay of transforming and running into the other halfa in his mortal form.

Flying back, he went against everything is gut told him and flew deeper and deeper into haunt. The fear and the anger came back quickly, churning in his core, but the more that Danny followed the feeling to the center of the haunt there was something added to it.

There was sadness.

A deep, soul consuming sadness. It made Danny want to flee for a whole different reason; it was a feeling that he knew too well. Pushing his trepidation aside, Danny pressed on and slipped through the wall to stand in front of the door to what he was sure was the other halfa’s apartment. This was the most concentrated part of the haunt at least.

Danny chewed on his lip as he stared at the door. For some reason, now that he was standing in front of the apartment, he was nervous about leaving the gift. He shook himself out of it, quickly set the basket down at the door, and fled. At least it was done.

-----

“Sorry for intruding on your haunt! Total accident. Please don’t disembowel me. Sorry again,” Dick read off the card that had been tucked into the gift basket.

This brings us to the end of Ch. 1 and the very first line of Ch. 2. My apologies for any mistakes, I've had a migraine for about a month now.

Tag list: @fisticuffsatapplebees | @thegatorsgoose | @wolfeyedwitch | @lazy-bouqet

#dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #red hood #jason todd #dead on main #like betta fish do

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heartofaskywalkerprincessleia · 2 months

Text

Luke Skywalker is a hero for people with anxiety

(Contains spoilers from Episodes 4-6).

A lot of people relate to Luke Skywalker. He's down-to-earth, honest, and always strives for the light. Watching Star Wars again for the first time in a while, however, I realized something. When I looked it up on the internet, I was surprised that I couldn't find a lot of discussions about it. What do I mean? That Luke Skywalker suffers from anxiety.

The deleted scene from Tosche station, which I recently saw for the first time, sheds some light on this aspect of Luke's character. In the scene, we learn from Luke's friends that he panics easily. They're all chiding him for ‘again’ thinking that the Empire is coming. Even though he's just seen Princess Leia's ship fighting with Darth Vader's ship, his friends begin gaslighting him.

Someone online pointed out that this scene causes Luke's statement “there's nothing left for me here, now” to be more forceful. Upon finding out that his Aunt and Uncle are dead, Luke doesn't go to his friends for help. You wonder what his friends thought upon hearing that Luke's family had been killed by stormtroopers, right after he'd tried to warn them.

This aspect of Luke's character, and how he is treated by his friends, conditions him to not ask for help. In the ESB, as he's dying on Hoth, he never calls for anyone. If Obi-Wan hadn't shown up, Luke wouldn't have started calling out to him. If he hadn't started shouting, Han Solo wouldn't have seen him.

This trend continues. Luke panics about things, but doesn't ask for help. Yoda tries to help him, getting him to relax and clear his mind. But, the vision of his friends worries him too much. He makes light of Obi-Wan’s warning that the Empire is after him for his talents. Luke is still holding onto what he told Biggs in the deleted scene from Tosche station–that the Empire will never draft him.

During the fight on Cloud City, Vader acknowledges that Luke has learned to control his fear. Remember, Luke canonically gets so scared of the Sand People that he faints in the first movie. There's almost a parallel of that first moment, as Vader knocks Luke down and holds his lightsaber to Luke's throat just like the Sand People knocked him down before.

Luke has always gotten through things on his own. But, at this moment, he loses his hand. Losing his hand is symbolic of Luke losing the ability to do everything on his own. His father, who he always idolized and held onto, is evil. He's alone. He realizes that everyone was trying to protect him from this reality. Even his aunt and uncle let him think that his father was a hero, because it helped Luke to hold on.

He finally reaches out to Leia. He finally forms a real connection with someone, which requires being vulnerable, and overcoming his fear of not being taken seriously. And, Leia rescues him.

In the ROTJ, Luke tells Obi-Wan that he can't do this alone. He starts working with Han and Leia, and realizing that he is actually important to them. He trusts Leia enough to tell her that she is his sister, and that he has to save their father.

But, still, Luke is trying to do everything on his own. He goes to face his father, and tries to be calm. He tries to avoid becoming angry. He tries to control the anxiety that got him ridiculed by his friends. The anxiety that led him to destroy Vader in his vision during his training on Degobah. The anxiety that he sees as his greatest flaw.

But, he panics. He goes after Vader, and cuts off his hand. And, that's when he realizes it.

All his life, Luke has wanted to be like his father. He praised himself for the positive qualities that are like his father. Being a good pilot. Being a Jedi (before he knew that his father was Vader). But at this moment, Luke looks at Vader's mechanical hand, and realizes that his father is just like him. His father is anxious. His father was scared, and overwhelmed once, just like him. His father didn't have anyone to turn to.

Luke stands up to the Emperor, but that isn't what causes this scene to be so powerful. It's the fact that, as Luke is dying, he says the words his father once desperately wanted to say to someone.

“Help me.”

“Please, help me.”

And Anakin, who wished someone would help him, who told Luke that it was too late for him, realizes that he can be that person for someone else. The pain he's gone through his whole life doesn't have to be passed on. He can save his son from the same fate. And he does.

That's why Luke Skywalker is a hero for people who suffer from anxiety. Because he shows us the importance of accepting ourselves. Of self-compassion. Of reaching out to others. Of not being afraid to ask for help when we need it. And, if we do, we might just be that little spark of hope that someone else needs.

May the Force be with you, always.

#luke skywalker #princess leia #star wars #the empire strikes back #return of the jedi #a new hope #darth vader #anakin skywalker #spoiler alert

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 months

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🧎‍♀️more edira????? in evil old lesbian office worker we trust 🙏

how about a honeymoon-esque vacation scenario??? I am dying to see more of casual edira, the way she was in that last drabble ahgdgshababnabab

ur writing is just so good 💝

A/N: This is so kind! I was really surprised that Edira kept showing up in my inbox but I can't complain! I didn't want to jump to honeymoon just yet so here's a little vacation/beach episode :D

CW: blackmail/forced relationship, power imbalance, edira grabbing reader’s butt, overall possessive red flags --WC:2300

Synopsis: vacay with your powertrip of a girlfriend Edira! But her workaholic tendencies are hard to escape.

Taking “official” photos was always a humbling experience. You looked down at your passport ID for the hundredth time, grimacing at how dead you looked in the grainy picture.

“It’s not that bad. And see, the light hit your eyes perfectly,” Edira promised, but it didn’t fix the frown on your face as you focused on each blemish and pore that was exacerbated tenfold in the tiny image that represented who you were across country lines.

“Easy for you to say, you look the same as you did in your headshots on the branch website..”

You looked at her from the bed, watching the back of her sandy grey-blonde head shake with a sigh. The business woman rapidly typed away on her glowing laptop, seemingly irritated by the crashing waves outside the open sliding doors.

“Well, if you really want we can get it taken again, when I put my last name on there too.”

At that, you were quiet. Moving in together, and now vacations across boarders…. Her reference to marriage shouldn’t have been shocking, but it put all other thoughts in your brain to a stop. You didn’t really want to marry her, did you? Your blackmailing boss who was more like a war general than a tender lover, one who daydreamed about bending you over her desk more than what flowers she’d want at the ceremony venue. The possibility of staring into her bleak expression at an empty, cold courthouse and being forced to elope was something that made your frown droop even further.

The sad excuse of a wedding depressed you more than the thought of marrying Edira at all.

But you shook that despairing vision out of your head-- you were here to relax, to get away from the stress of your office environment (your coworkers) and neverending projects with cutthroat deadlines (running reports and files to Edira as soon as she requests them.)

“Well, I still don’t know how I convinced you to let us do this. I mean, I didn’t think you ever took vacations. When’s the last time you went on a trip that wasn’t for work?”

Edira stopped her clacking, french tips scraping along one of the computer’s keys.

“This is my first. I never had any reason to use my PTO days, until now.”

Wow, you really WERE dating a workaholic. What kind of insane person doesn’t use their personal days the second they get the chance? If you had been more than a temp, you would’ve taken all of yours the second Edira tried to indoctrinate you into her little play “date” plan.

“Well then why are you doing work!? This is one of the few times you can get away with not being available every other second of the day. You’ve been on your computer since we got on the plane-- isn’t it time we actually, you know, vacationed?”

Edira returned to her email writing. “They might need me, I’m the only one who has access to the other branches’ inf--”

“C’monn, I think they’ll be fine without you for an hour or two. Otherwise, what was the point of coming here..” You hopped to the screen doors, opening the curtains to see the glimmering ocean right outside your suite.The sand rippled with the blowing wind, completely void of footsteps or life. “I mean we LITERALLY have the ocean right here and you’d rather stare at your laptop.”

Edira hummed, not convinced.

Yikes; If you wanted to explore the island you were supposed to be vacationing on, you’d need to pull out the big guns.

“You’d rather focus on your work than… spend time with me?” Your voice cracked, looking at the ships far away from your corner of the coast. It was physically sickening to sweeten yourself up in order to get Edira’s favor. But how else could you actually use this once-in-a-lifetime chance to swim in the Indian Ocean, to experience something, anything, outside of your boring desk job and droning urban life.

At your buttered up question, Edira paused. You could see her looking at you from the corner of her eye, unreadable.

She shut her laptop. Pushing away from the desk she sighed, running a sharp hand through her hair, tight jaw clenching and unclenching.

“Put your bathing suit on.” Was all she said, unzipping the back of her form-fitting dress.

You didn’t say anything, no claps of excitement or relentless thank you’s-- lest she change her mind to ruin your fun. You hurried to change your shorts and souvenir shirt (A present from the airport gift shop; Edira saw you eyeing it) as the businesswoman walked to the master bathroom.

You prayed to be faster than her, hoping she wouldn’t catch you in a position that sparked her lust.

You were running around looking for sunscreen and towels when she came out, hands on her hips and dark sunglasses propped on her head. Even in her backless one piece, she looked like an executive on a business trip, hard glare in her eyes and a muted black covering the front of her body. From the back however, a different person was hidden. The cheeky bottoms exposed nearly the full of her, well, bottom, as ruffled locks of hair fell like messy feathers down her shoulders, exposed to the salty wind. She was the sexy women in swimsuit magazines, meant to be a fantasy of maturity and dominance way out of your league. But here she was, looking you up and down as you hopped on one foot to try and grab a towel on the other side of the bed.

“You know, i’m not really a big fan of the beach. I don’t know why I picked this place… should’ve chosen the mountains or something. Someplace we wouldn’t be bothered.”

Someplace she could have you all to herself, she meant. Somewhere you wouldn’t be distracted by things to do and would come looking to her for warmth by the fire.

“Maybe next vacation!” You hoped, praying that it turned the cogs in her machine brain to take you somewhere else, anywhere else, soon. “Meanwhile, we have our own private beach, thanks to you. We’ll only be bothered by the occasional seaweed. And maybe a fish or two.”

You gathered up the beach necessities in your arms, full of towels and a beach umbrella, along with small must-haves like water bottles and sunscreen spray cans. Edira looked at you with an incredilous stare, grabbing the towels and water from your hands to shove into her beach bag.

“Yeah, didn’t really think of that.” You said, noticing how most of the things you grabbed could be fit into her infinite ‘lifes a beach’ tote-- complementary from your Airbnb hosts.

“Let’s go.”

She walked out to the naked patio, locking her pointer finger with yours as you hiked the umbrella on your shoulder. You had come to learn Edira well; she didn’t like the sun, hated most gelatinous sugary mixtures, and was incredibly stubborn if an activity included something she found beneath her. Getting sand between her toes, included.

You found a place far away from the shore and began spinning the umbrella’s pole into the ground. Edira would surely make use of its shade, but the ocean was calling your name as she sat down on her beach towel, squinting behind her sunglasses.

“I can see the harbor from across the water; not particularly private, I’d say. The hosts’ll make sure to hear about this when we leave.”

“It’s private enough. What, did you want to go skinny dipping or something?” You laughed, clumping sand at the base of the umbrella with your foot. “The press would have a field day.”

You flumped down next to her, happy to be out of that stuffy, although beautiful, beach house that reminded you too much of Edira’s apartment. The warm sand was comforting, shells and rocks placed around you like little treasures.

“If I want to go skinny dipping with you I should be able to, not have to worry about some fisherman watching while I touch you.” She pulled at your thigh, placing her hand on the inside as she lifted up her sunglasses. “Or maybe, you’d like that, letting them watch you frolick and squirm. Maybe we should find out if they can really see us--”

She had the full intention of digging under your bottoms to make a statement, but your reaction time to her had improved.

“You’re such a worrywart, can we just swim now please? It’s better than sitting her in the hot sun, on the sticky sand..” You knew you caught her when she turned her nose at the mention of the sun, only worsening as she started to feel the sand cover her feet.

She was a priss through and through, and sometimes it worked in your favor.

“Fine… but if I’m touched by something slimy I can’t help what I do.”

You grinned with your teeth, unable to hold back a smile at finally getting to experience the beginning of your vacation.

You ran to the waves crashing against the sand, feeling them flick up at your ankles and knees as you waded in the water.

You turned around to walk backwards into the sea, watching as the woman hesitantly took out a hairtie that once had her hair in a high pony.

“Come on! Slowpoke!”

Edira reached the gap between land and water, frowning at schools of tiny fish and jagged rocks that would surely make it hard to walk in heels the next morning.

You had to drag her further, holding her outstretched hand as she let you lead her deeper into the water.

“It’s not so bad, right? Nothing slimy thus far…”

“Something’s definitely touching my leg.” She remarked, linking arms with you as if you were a safety floaty. “And it smells like fish.”

You both trudged far enough from shore, a little more than waist deep as you watched the sun near the horizon line.

You took a moment to look at it, staring as the boats pass by from far away, seeing the empty houses on the beach neighboring yours between areas of trees.

Edira turned towards you, the same moment something coming to grip your bottom.

“Something nabbed me!” You nearly shrieked, only to feel the same sensation on your other cheek, pulling you forward against Edira. She had her arms wrapped behind you, squeezing your ass like it was dough to be kneaded.

“Thought I was the scared one, hm?”

You looked away, putting your hands against Edira’s abdomen. She leered over you, ignoring your attempts to create distance as she caged you in. The waves pushed you together, water swaying as her legs brushed against your knees deep below.

“don't look away from me now, you're too adorable like this…”

She watched your eyes barely peek up, defensive fists flattening against the bare of her collarbone. She was almost spotless, save for a few sun-kissed freckles sprinkled here and there.

Edira grinned a wolfy smirk. Even despite her discomfort in the sea she knew you were wrapped around her finger, nervous lips twitching while watching her bring a hand from your bottom to your neck.

Her hands were salty and wet from the sea, pulling at the base of your head to bring you closer. The workaholic almost seemed to begin destressing as her nose pressed against yours.. Edira nuzzled with her forehead pressed to your sweaty one, fine fingers caressing downward to grab your jaw.

Without warning, her tongue perched itself against your cheek, turning your face to the side as she ran a long stripe up to your temple. It was wet and full, drawing out her time to savor the flavor and discomfort of your expression.

“What are you--”

“Salty.” She murmured. “You're so soft, getting all mushy in my arms.” Edira laughed-- a real laugh, with a small snort as she leaned into you. She was so close, the intimate entertwining of your bodies so unusual from her normal obscurity.

It was hard not to look petulant when her eyes peered down at you with a gleam, as if you were a cute drunk thing at the bar she wanted to take home safe, or a pampered puppy ready to be suffocated with attention.

“So cute.. might make me jealous letting all these boatmen see you in such a little bathing suit.” She teased, progressively in a better mood now with the clouds blocking the sun and your body so cooperative in her grasp.

“Jealous?” You rolled your eyes. “Oh noo, I could never imagine my girlfriend being jealous.”

All the times of her domineering possessive behavior ran through your head, the sarcastic comment truly not detailing how severe she had gone.

“I am your girlfriend…” she grinned, kissing your shoulder with a tight grip arpund your hips. “Now that I hear it,I want more… it sounds too, loose.”

Wait, did you really call her your “girlfriend”? Hell, maybe the sun was starting to get to you.

“We'll it’s not like we can get MARRIED, haha,” you awkwardly brush off how romantic she's being all of a sudden, soft circles created by her nails running along the dip of your back. “I mean… right? We're too uncommitted for marriage, and I mean who would want to marry someone the’re in a fake relationship with.”

You couldn’t tell if you were talking about her or you anymore. Edira’s chest pressed against yours, arms tentatively keeping you trapped against her.

“Mm… Still feels fake to you?” She questioned In your neck, surprisingly calmer than you expected her to be at that comment. “How much more do I need to convince you that this is real,” Those soft lips came to brush against your ear. “That you’re not going anywhere.”

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sluttywoozi · 1 year

Text

'bout you | ksy x reader

Rating: M (18+ minors dni) | WC: ~1k

Soonyoung's busy studying so you get busy doing... something else. His headphones die at a most inopportune moment.

Warnings: reader has a vagina, soonyoung catches reader masturbating and he likes it, mention of overstim., fingering, just a blurb truly, barely proofread

Soonyoung’s headphones give one last quartet of beeps before the music flowing through them ends abruptly, the battery dead at last. He knows he should’ve charged them earlier, but he was eager to get over to your place. He always looks forward to spending time with you, even when it’s just him doing some studying at your desk while you take a nap.

You’ve been together for a couple months now - three next week, if he’s remembering correctly - and something about your presence just puts him at ease. He’s been so stressed about his upcoming Trig exam that he could barely sleep and now he’s relaxed enough he’s contemplating joining you in bed. He turns to check if you’re still asleep, registering a low humming noise coming from behind him, barely audible now that his music has stopped.

His eyes widen in shock, the knowledge that he should turn back around warring with the indomitable desire to keep watching you.

You’re cumming, he can tell by the arch of your back and the sharpness of your gasps. Your thighs clench together under the sheets as you hold the vibrator in place, extending your pleasure longer than he usually does.

He can feel his dick start to harden in his sweats, feels it twitch when your eyes blink open and lock with his, feels it get thicker when shyness clouds the heat in them. He knows you masturbate, knows you’re good at making yourself cum, but that’s different than him watching it happen, for both of you.

You’re probably feeling a bit embarrassed and exposed and Soonyoung almost feels bad for catching you, aware that if his headphones had died only a few minutes later, he might have had no clue what exactly you were doing right behind his back.

On his end, however, it feels like you’ve changed his life. He needs to see that again. And then make it happen himself, again and again and again. He’s never overstimulated you before but suddenly his mind is reeling with visions of you crying, begging, of you so fucked out you don’t have a single thought in your perfect, pretty head.

You’re still frozen, vibrator buzzing against your thigh, when he rasps, “Keep going.”

You don’t seem to comprehend what he says, rushing to explain that you didn’t want to bother him but you just couldn’t sleep and he looks so good in those sweatpants, and you thought you could just be quick and quiet and he’d never know.

You seem to think he’s upset or disgusted or something, but, truthfully, he’s never been more turned on in his life. So he repeats himself, “Keep going. Please.”

“But I already-,”

“I know.”

You blink at him and swallow, growing smaller before his very eyes, and he swivels fully around to face you, gently wrapping his fingers around your ankles to ground you. “Only if you want to, baby. You know you never have to do anything when you’re with me,” he assures you, his voice soft and sincere.

Sending him a wobbly smile, you start to shift your thighs apart before flicking the vibe back on and bringing it between your thighs. Your hips jump, your pussy still sensitive from earlier, and just the thought of what he’s about to watch you do has his dick throbbing. You don’t tease yourself as much as he teases you, keeping the pulsing vibrations concentrated on your clit and rolling your hips into the sensation. They shy away every so often, always accompanied by a gasp or little whimper, as if you want to cum again but you’re scared.

You’re already getting close, your breaths coming faster and your body starting to writhe under the sheets. He wishes he could see you, wishes he could taste and feel and touch, but he wants you to be comfortable more than he wants any of those things. Although, he’s pretty sure you are, given the fact that it’s almost like you’ve forgotten he’s there.

He’s proven wrong when your lashes flutter open and your free hand reaches out for his. “Can I borrow your fingers, Soonyoung?”

He scrambles off the chair to kneel by the bed, his eyes tracking the skin revealed as you kick away the blankets. There are moans echoing in his head and probably also coming out of his mouth, but he doesn’t care, can’t care about anything but how you look right now. Your panties bite into the flesh of your hips, soaked and almost translucent at the center, and when you push them aside to bare yourself to him, he’s grateful he's already on his knees.

He’s seen you before, of course he has, but there’s something different about this time. It’s how bashful but desperate you are, how boldly you asked for what you wanted even as you clung tight to your sheets and the last bit of your modesty. He forgot to give you his hand but that’s okay, you take it in your own and fold down his ring and pinky fingers yourself, glancing at him to get the okay before pulling his hand between your thighs.

He groans at the first touch, your cunt fever hot and your wetness coating his fingertips as they delve deeper. They sink inside you easily, instantly quirking to find your g-spot before spreading apart to get you ready for a third. You always want three, always like to feel full before he fills you with his cock, always like to squeeze your muscles down on them just to torture him, like you’re doing right now. He knows it’s on purpose because of the cute little smirk on your face but he can’t ever find it in himself to get upset with you. Whether you’re stealing his tiger plushies one by one or forgetting to put the cap back on his toothpaste, he never gets mad because everything you do is evidence that you’re here with him.

It’s still surreal sometimes that you’re his and he’s yours, that you let him see you and feel you and touch you, that you share yourself with him like this. It’s dizzying, but that might just be the pressure and heat of your pussy wrapped around his fingers.

Soonyoung can never tell.

(Not that he minds.)

Seventeen Masterlist

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slasherhaven · 5 months

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The Devil you Know

Otis Driftwood x Reader

CW: Typical Otis things, violence, death, threats, Stockholm Syndrome, manipulation

Not really happy with how this came out but here's a little snippet from a larger story that's been whirling around in my head for a bit!

The door creaked on its hinges, the light breeze causing it to repeatedly tap against the wall. It was open and the road was right there, stretching out endlessly. Even RJ’s truck was sitting beside the house, keys probably still in the ignition.

The door was open, the road was right there, and so was a truck. And yet your feet remained glued to the floor.

All you had to do was move, one foot in front of another. Get to the truck. Even if there were no keys, you could run. Even if it was hopeless, not another soul for miles, you could try. You should try.

Instead, you just stood in the doorway, staring out as all hell broke loose in the basement.

You weren’t completely sure what was going on down there and you didn’t want to think about it too hard. RJ had towed a car up to the house, a young couple having car troubles and needing some assistance. Some good old southern hospitality. You wished you could have warned them, but you hadn’t dared say anything. You couldn’t, not when Mama was fussing over how kind you are for bringing these strangers some refreshing lemonade. Not when Otis was still eyeing you from his seat until you set the tray down as he could pull your stiff frame down onto his lap.

They were all busy now, dealing with their latest victims. They were all busy and you were unsupervised. You could run. Should run.

You remained still. The outside seemed too vast, too impossible.

You were snapped out of your warring thoughts when a strong hand grabbed you by the arm and spun you around.

You recognized the face immediately, the man that RJ brought in. He was a large man, who seemed even larger as he loomed over you, which was probably how he had managed to get back upstairs in the first place.

Blood pounded in your ears so you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You watched his mouth moving, trying to make sense of it but he was talking too fast. Even though you could hear what he was saying, you read his expression.

He was angry. Fearful, sure, but also furious.

His grip on your arm tightened, not loosening when you flinched and hissed. It would add to the litany of bruises, you were sure.

As he tugged you towards him, you acted reflexively. You thrashed to get out of his hold and attempted to pry his hand off of you, digging your nails into his hand and arm hard enough to draw blood.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

You could finally make out some of his words, the harshness of them making you panic more. The feeling of being trapped, his bruising grip on your arm, the way he grabbed at you with his other hand.

“Get off me!” You fought and shouted, cheeks sticky with tears.

But this man was larger than you, stronger than you, and easily knocked the wind out of you by slamming you into the wall beside the open front door. Pinning you there.

Suddenly his grip went limp and the anger faded from his eyes, his words falling silent.

Your chest was heaving with uneasy breaths as the man collapsed to his knees before falling over on his side, blood pooling around his body and seeping into the floorboard.

Your vision was hazy, the whole room spinning around you.

The only thing in perfect focus was Otis. Standing just behind where the other man had been with a dark look on his face. He was covered in grime and blood, his knife left behind in the spine of the corpse at your feet.

“O-Otis…”

He said something, his lips were moving but you couldn’t hear anything just like before. The ringing in your ears even louder now. You watched, eyes wide and hands shaking, as Otis spat at the corpse, his words coming harsher even if you couldn’t really make them out. He was baring his teeth now.

The walls were still spinning and the floor was moving, the only constant was Otis.

He was your anchor.

You didn’t even realise you were moving until it was too late, your body acting on instinct. You managed not to trip over the body between you both before yours collided with Otis, your arms clinging around his waist and your eyes squeezed shut.

“Otis, he…I…what…”

Clinging to Otis’ steady frame, you feel still finally. You could still smell the gore on him but it reminded you of where you were, it grounded you. It anchored you even more when you felt his arms slow encircle your body.

“Don’t go crying on me, darlin’,” his voice was teasing, almost mocking, but you didn’t care. The threat was gone and the world was steady, you could breathe easily again. Nothing else mattered.

“Shush, Bunny, everything’s alright now,” Otis cooed, actually managing to soothe you some despite his sarcastic drawl.

“I’m here, I’ve got you. Nobody fucking touches what’s mine, right?”

It shouldn’t have brought you any comfort and yet it did. There was a time where those very words would have made your skin crawl, but now you found yourself burying your face further into Otis’ sullied shirt.

Seemingly seeing no further need to indulge your need for affection or reassurance, Otis unwound his arms from you and pushed you away by your shoulders.

For the first time you were able to catch him off guard, moving with lightning speed as you clutched at his arm. “Please, don’t. Otis, don’t leave, I’ll do anything, please, just…” you could already feel your breath quickening again in panic.

“Aw, silly Bunny,” Otis smirked with too many teeth, his eyes glinting with mischief. “C’mon, Mama will sit with ya.”

“No,” you felt a sob catch in the back of your throat, suddenly desperate to not have Otis out of your sight. He was the only thing keeping you stable.

“Oh, you just want Ol’ Otis all to yourself,” Otis’ smirk somehow grew as he dragged a calloused thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the fresh tears, the drying blood on his hand leaving a pink streak in its wake. “Why didn’t ya just say so? You can help me deal with this fucker then, then we can check in on Baby. She’s playing with his little bitch right now, maybe she’ll save some of the fun for us.”

Your stomach churned at the thought of actually partaking in the horrors that the Firefly family enacts but the dread you felt from the thought of leaving Otis’ side was overwhelming.

You nodded shakily before you could stop yourself.

Blood and gore squelched under your feet at Otis led you away from the still open front door but you clung to his hand all the same. Otis was dangerous and you had almost forgotten just how dangerous everything else could be.

Otis was deranged and dangerous and you never really knew when he would snap but he also protected you. He didn’t let anyone touch what belonged to him, so as long as you were in his clutches, you were safe from everything but him.

#otis driftwood x reader #slashers x reader #slasher #slashers #otis driftwood #slasher x reader #my writing

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godineedsleep · 5 months

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Venti x Reader

summary: Venti and his continually reincarnated lover

wordcount: 1.4k+ | tags: mild angst, fluff, reincarnation trope

pairing: venti

Barbatos knew ever since he had taken the form of his friend that life was fickle. He watched people pass on like grains of sand in a time glass, one after the other, soon forgotten about as others followed suit. But the wind does not forget. Not so easily.

He once again felt his bleary eyes open, the calls of his people ringing behind his ears. He felt anemo swirl up around him, eyes flicking around the forest he lay in. It was different than when he closed his eyes, bushes in the wrong place and trees moved, but it was not much of a shock. He felt the prayers of his people chorus behind his ears and heeded their call.

And then he met you. You, who was so fierce and brave and still so kind yet in the face of war. He watched as you fought, talked with you, and sat complacent as you charmed him. You had asked for his name, once. He had told you to call him Venti and to remember him as the eccentric bard home to Mondstadt.

And then he watched as you were slain. You had been strong, vision or not, but you were unlucky just once. And Barbatos watched as your chest concaved to the force of the blade, and as your blood joined the many already fallen, and he felt a strange sense of calm as an arrow flew through the head of the enemy.

Barbatos mourned you, just like he did every mortal. He mourned you by the bottle, by the sweetness of the wine that trickled down his throat. He mourned you as he mourned all the fallen of Mondstadt he couldn’t protect, as he mourned those who died trying to protect the nation he held so dear.

During a Windbloom Festival, over two hundred years later, Venti saw your eyes again. You had changed- you were a little shorter, hair a little lighter- but those eyes, with a bold determination as you bickered with a shopkeeper about her price of goods, he couldn’t forget. Your mannerisms stayed unchanged, you still had the familiar inflections and your hands still held the hems of your clothing when you were stressed.

Venti slips behind you, glancing towards the rather annoyed shopkeeper.

“What seems to be the matter here?” He chirps, voice light as he smiles towards the two of you. The shopkeeper barely spares him a glance before dismissing him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t take payment right now.” She turned back to you, eyes sharpening to a glare in an instant.

“And I told you, I won't lower my prices. What you see is what you pay.” Venti winces as you grind your teeth, watching you become more agitated.

“Your prices are extortionate.” As you continue to rant, Venti looks down at the shop's products. You had been pretty accurate- for selling simple wrappers to hold windblooms when gifting them, they were at a high price. When glancing around, he found this was the only stand selling them.

“It takes advantage of people just wanting to enjoy Windbloom- how did you even decide this was fair?” The shopkeeper stares at you flatly.

“Inflation.”

“The economy has been on an incline for a while, you lying-” Venti places a couple of mora on the table, cutting you off. He grins at the cashier, eyes twinkling.

“I believe this should be enough, correct?” The shopkeeper diverts her attention immediately to the coins, swiping them off the counter before any objections. She thumbs over them, waiting a few seconds before pushing the bundle of paper towards you.

“Take it. Next.”

Venti dragged you to the side, glancing at you. You were a bit dazed by his action, eyes trailing up from the bundle of thin papers in your hands to stare at him- studying him. So, he thought, it was only fair to return the favor. You surely had changed, your clothing less knightley and more of the common folk- and you dressed comfortably, too, which was good- but as your eyes dragged over his own appearance he found himself admiring that familiar fire, kept safe within the borders of your iris.

“You…” he hears your voice, hesitant and unsure, and hates how it reminds him of your demise. Your former demise, he supposes.

“We haven’t… met before, have we?”

Barbatos finds himself strangely silent, feeling the warmth as you hold his hand to keep him still. Like he would run. And he finds himself smiling, whether from the absurdity of that notion or the look on your face he didn’t know.

“Maybe when we were younger.”

It's a few years later when Venti finds himself gently strumming his lyre, your head in his lap, during a bright summer day. It was cool, with the wind constant and the shade of the tree at Windrise. You were dozing off, smiling as you listened to his song. And when you looked up at him, eyes tired yet shining and happy, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He loved the way your eyes crinkled as your smile widened, and he relished the way you pulled him back down for a proper kiss.

It was these small moments Venti cherished, where the two of you shared these quiet moments together, where he could simply enjoy your company. The moments the both of you could just sit, stop for just a moment, where he could hold you and sing to you and you could just be happy with him.

And then you died again.

It was different this time, though. You had lived long this time, the crows feet beneath your eyes that used to only appear as you smiled became more permanent. He wished he could have grown old with you. He wished he had the heart to change his form from how he died, to give you the sembalance of growing old with your partner. He wept in your arms time after time, agonized over that fact.

But even if he could age, Barbatos thinks, it wouldn’t change anything when you eventually passed. While even when a gust of wind peeters out, it only resumes someplace else. At a different time.

He held your hand, bony and thin as it was, as you looked at him with the smile he so adored. And you passed.

And so he slept, for years and years and years, until he was needed again.

He would wake again and again and again, and would meet you again and again and again. Sometimes your hair would be different, other times your frame. But your eyes were always the same. They always looked at him with a distant sort of recognition, and that small flame would always be lit.

He would never force his way into your life. There were lifetimes that went by where you simply said hello to him on the street, just as many as the two of you would become friends. You would have your own loves too, aside from him. He found that any lover he would try to have would only remind him of you, so he abstained.

In the times you were gone, sleep and wine became his friends. His children of Mondstadt were easy to converse with, yes, lively and kind as they were. But they never had the comfortable familiarity you brought. Only the remembering of ghosts long past.

Venti finds you again, years later, humming a gentle song on the base of the tree of Windrise. And you look up as he walks over, smiling. But he stops, shocked, as he sees more than just the usual faint recognition in your eyes. There was something… more there. He can’t help himself from gently murmuring your name, and just the sound sends you smiling and laughing.

He feels you crash into him, shocked still, arms instinctually wrapping around you. Venti finds himself laughing along with you, the bottle of wine he had brought to drink dropped somewhere to his side. When he finds your eyes, he sees recognition he hadn’t seen in them before- at least, when the two of you met for the first time. And he sees your eyes filling with tears: of relief, happiness, and other emotions he couldn’t place.

“You haven’t changed a day, my love.” You smile up to Venti, grinning wide as he gently wipes your tears from your face. Your smile wavers for a moment, growing bittersweet. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

And Barbatos smiles, gentle, as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“For as long as the wind blows, I will protect you, just as you have protected I.”

And you smile. And he thinks that his patience has been worth it.

#venti #genshin impact x reader #venti x reader #genshin venti #genshin impact #genshin impact oneshots #venti fluff #genshin x reader #genshin angst #venti angst #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #venti x you #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #gn reader #imma be real i saw a bunch of writing promts for reincarnated x immortant #and i simply went a little crazy for them #love them sm actually theyre so silly

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faeriecap · 9 days

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you know what’s really fucked up? the mcu skipped over bucky’s entire character arc and sidelined any representation of not just his healing but all personality because no homo so he would be lucid and battle ready in like one freaking day to fight steve’s civil war uwu!!!!

because they passed over what should have been a gradual and natural reunion between him and steve, it got shoved into the civil war plot out of necessity but had to happen really fast. so all the REALLY good accords arguments steve has about violation of privacy and big government agendas and power structures becoming corrupted and dictating what the avengers do or dont do get completely ignored in favor of blaming steve’s actions on “infatuation” and “nostalgia.” and it’s played off as totally irrational????

Rather than it being him putting the needs of the people first and foremost AGAIN like he IS DOING!!!!so many viewers see his challenge of the accords and tony as a petty feud over a friend they view as not worth enough to even fight for. the absolute value of bucky aside, this puts him and steve in a position of not just selfishness but immaturity: steve acts like a child on the playground or a lovesick puppy. this could be personal platonic love, but imagine if bucky were steve’s long lost girlfriend instead (like if hydra took peggy). people would blast steve for being a fool in love much like they did wanda with vision in iw but they wouldn’t say he was as irrational for it! without that, bucky still gets the same treatment plus thinly veiled homophobia

some anti-woke fans literally mocked steve’s “weakness” with implications that they attribute it to him being gay for bucky. i mean looking back at some of steves lines theyre SO relevant and SO right!!! and so antifacism!!!! but they get ignored beause they force fed us surprise bucky!!!! and its almost like the film wants us to side with tony because the entire time steve’s resistance is played off as stupid and selfish FOR SOME GUY. it puts steve in a super negative light, objectifies bucky, and creates dislike for him because now hes nothing more than a catalyst and then erased for the rest of the mcu narrative????? just consider how the film would have been if it was completely absent of bucky? if all we heard were steve’s speeches on corruption and people using means to their own gain? of reading the fine print? of only being able to trust themselves and each other?

td;lr: bucky’s development was twisted into a plot device that erased him of all personality because they didn’t want to devote the proper time and care to his storyline and they did that to fit it into the civil war plot line but it wasn’t even worth it because all it did was put bucky and steve in a negative light and as such steve’s entire argument in civil war becomes a big joke which sucks because he makes some top notch points

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 27 days

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Imagine Being Thomas Shelby's Twin

Platonic!Shelby Family x Fem!Reader

Various x Shelby!Reader Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of past childhood neglect, period-typical sexism. The image below is just to visualize what a twin for Tommy could look like.

“You’re left, I’m right, therefore I’m never wrong.”

Aside from Polly, you know Tommy’s mind the best.

As children, you and Tommy were always together. Tommy would lead the way as you raced from one misadventure to the next. As his right hand it was your obligation to help him execute his tricks. Of which you were eager to join.

It was a common joke between you and Tommy to pretend to read each other’s minds. You would take hours practicing how to mirror each other’s body language and finishing each other’s sentences. The payoff was always excellent, and it resulted in most of Birmingham believing that the two of you had a genuine psychic link. Even as adults, you like to behave as if you can communicate telepathically. With how in tuned you are to one another, that ability could very well be real.

As teenagers, you and Tommy drifted apart somewhat. He was always on the move. There was always some plot, some brawl, some girl. You were more than willing to help, but you became more of a thinker than a doer. Tommy could see that, and so he left you out in favor of using your brothers instead. Which hurt.

Although Tommy would grow into a prideful young gangster, he was still a dreamer. He would stay up late with you to go over his dreams and schemes. Together, you drafted up a gilded vision of what the Shelby family could be someday. To you, it was a lovely idea. To him, it was a bright future.

Back then, the days were bright and filled with laughter. You had a long line of admirers for your brothers to chase off, and Tommy had an equally long line of girls for you to warn. You used to walk on the sunnier side of life. Always thinking about the good in the world and prone to smoothing over the uglier parts to hide them away. Tommy used to say you had a “head full of flowers.”

Things changed after the war.

You absolutely joined your brothers in the war as a volunteer nurse. It was hard to leave home, but you had to stand by your brothers. Nothing could have prepared you for what lied ahead.

Tommy was a different person when he came back, so were you. You still liked to laugh and dance, but your laugh felt hollow. He started talking about changing the family’s fortune much more often. Almost every night after the war he would stay up with you, planning all the ways he could strike gold. This time, you weren’t just dreaming, you were plotting right along with him.

No matter the cost, you would see your family rise.

Aside from Polly, you know Tommy’s mind the best. You know when he’s lying, even when he’s lying to himself. When nobody can get through to him, they go to you. For your siblings, you act as an excellent sounding board for their potential requests or inquiries. Of course, Tommy can always tell when John or Arthur had spoken to you before pitching an idea to him… but it’s fine.

You are the right to his left and the heart to his mind. Together, you two are dangerously close to a functioning human being.

To Tommy, you are a sensitive spot. He bends easier to demands you make and he tends to listen more to your words. You are also someone that makes him very vulnerable. There are things Tommy has told you that no one knows about, not even Grace.

If you must accompany him to meet with potential associates and rivals, he keeps you close.

That certainly hasn’t stopped certain men from trying to charm you. Billy Kimber, Darby Sabini, Alfie Solomons, Luca Changretta, Jack Nelson, and (sadly) Mr. Oswald Moseley. All the boys can’t help but turn their heads as you walk by. And it leaves your brother mildly stressed as they lose focus on the meeting to watch you reapply your lipstick.

Oswald seems the most determined to have his way with you. Something about having you would be the greatest victory against Tommy, fucking his precious twin. Luckily, you see through him and are disgusted. The same cannot be said for other would-be suitors.

Alfie Solomons has a sort of rawness that you find refreshing. He speaks in riddles and yet is unblinkingly straightforward. You like the way he tips his hat to you. Luca Changretta is one man you still think about at night. Had the mess with Angel Changretta never happened, you feel like you could've been happily married to a man like Luca. Jack Nelson has caused you almost as many problems as Alfie. He speaks plainly but not without calculation. The way he flirts is so smooth you forget it's happening. Tommy has refused your offers to go to America in his stead.

When and if you marry, it’s likely the marriage would be to someone Tommy sees as an asset. He won’t just let his good twin marry some oaf with no prospects. Expect him to demand a bride price for you along with a caravan filled with goods.

For Tommy, you are his humanity. The side of him that still sees God in all things. The part of him that may yet go to heaven when she dies. Tommy must protect you, even as he resents you. If he were to ever lose you, God save his enemies.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders headcanon #platonic!Tommy x reader

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eris-snow · 6 months

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6. 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞?

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst, swearing, toaster shenanigans, bakusquad shenanigans

A yellow thread like a soulmate’s cord: So similar, but so different.

Katsuki hates people.

It doesn’t matter if he appreciates a small small small minority of them, he’s fully obligated to bring his thoughts to the grave because Mina and Denki had broken the toaster for the hundredth time, Kirishima’s way too positive for someone going for therapy and Izuku breathes too hard.

“Why do I have to buy the stupid toaster?” He lashes, sweat building dangerously in his hands. “I did nothing!”

“We haven’t hung out properly in a long while, man! Think of it as a…a get-together!” Eijiro told him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

He’s testing his luck.

Ashido marches ahead of the both of them while playing thumb war with Denki. “And plus-hey!-you went feral when we got the previous previous toaster—Mina, stop it!” Denki chimes in, wrestling with Ashido.

“Who buys a VHS Player toaster? HOW DID YOU EVEN FIND A VHS PLAYER FOR A FUCKING TOASTER.”

“Mhm, uh-huh, yeah, yes, you see?” Ashido responds calmly. “This is why you’re needed.”

Behind them, Eijiro frowns. “I thought that was the 5th toaster, not the—”

“Finish that sentence,” He grits out. “I dare you.”

So yeah, borderline, Katsuki hates people.

He especially hates them when they start asking questions.

“You’ve been a ghost lately, disappearing right after class. What’s going on with you?” Eijiro changes the subject, and looks at him with curious red eyes.

Real, fuckin’ annoying questions.

Katsuki’s brain goes uhhh, and he shrugs off the red-haired’s shoulder to buy time.

“None of your business. If I’m busy, I’m busy. Deal with it.”

His friend gives him an inquisitive look, but Denki’s groan of defeat snaps both of them out of it, and Eijiro backs off. “Whatever you say, man.”

There’s an old street piano that lives right outside the mall. Katsuki’s surprised it’s still there, even after the plaza was stripped bare and renovated, the instrument sat there, creaking and lonely. What a contrast to the shiny, modern building it sat so innocently next to.

Out of nowhere, a splitting headache rips into his skull, and he has to grab the nearest thing (Eijiro) to keep himself from toppling. What the hell?

All he can see is that goddamn piano, multiplying and filling his vision. It flashes, disappears, and then reappears like it’s trying to decide whether it should be there or not. Someone calls his name, but it’s far away. Suddenly, he’s 7 again, showing off to all his admirers how wide his fingers could reach, how beautifully he could play the instrument.

All eyes are on him, and he feels like he’s a third person watching his younger self smile, shift aside to let someone else join him on the seat—

“Bakugou?”

A blink, two blinks, and the image is wiped.

“Bakugou?” Eijiro’s hand is on his shoulder and all eyes are on him. It takes him a second to realise that he’s gripping Eijiro’s arm, and another to unclench his hand. He leans away, and grits out low. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar,” Denki refutes, expression worried. “You okay, Bakubro?”

“Headache,” He supplies, gaze cutting back to the piano. It’s still sitting there harmlessly, like it hadn’t given him an existential crisis 5 seconds ago. He filters through his memories, frowning when he grasps at straws. He can’t remember ever playing a duet with someone.

Stalking ahead, he shoots a scowl at the inanimate object and enters the mall. “I wanna be in and out. Let’s go.”

He knows his friends’ expressions. They’re all concerned, because for some reason, Katsuki’s word isn’t good enough for them.

Whatever, it’s not like he hasn’t had lapses like that before.

A store full of green catches Katsuki’s eyes, and suddenly, all he can see is ferns and flowers stuffing the entrance of the little shop greeting the visitors of the mall.

They come back to the dorms with a new, normal toaster, and Katsuki gets a desk cactus.

—

Katsuki’s going deaf. He knows the drill yadda yadda, he’ll be deaf by 35 yadda yadda his quirk is an ass and so is he. However, he prides himself in knowing his eyesight is perfect and better than average. So he really, really hates it when they try to fuck shit up for him by making him see things that aren’t there.

His jacket hanging on the edge of the couch when he was visiting his parents over winter break. (It’s in an old storage unit his parents rented out since he can’t fit it anymore)

A cherry blossom tree siting right outside his old middle school. (It’s in the dead of the winter.)

Random street pianos, showing up at every turn.

And every time he shakes his head and blinks, the objects disappear. He doesn’t even want to get started with his dreams. Scenes from the war have been ending abruptly, cutting off and throwing him into moments of his life he never knew he lived through.

It’s been all he can even think about lately, and his zone-out sessions have earned him a slap to the head by his mother and daily check-ups via text from the shit broccoli nerd and Shitty Hair. He thinks about it, because it’s the same feeling when he hangs out with you. Your presence is so difficult to detect sometimes, he has to steels himself from blasting your face off because he didn’t notice you sitting right in front of him.

He has an internship with Jeanist and 10 articles to write for Hero History. He cannot afford to go crazy now.

—

“Katsuki.”

Katsuki’s eyes open. He spins around and finds a memory, ripped straight out from his life. It’s like watching a scene directly out of a play. His old, junior high classroom, with its rusted cabinets and creaky seats.

His younger self stops, and looks back, obviously annoyed. “What do you want, extra? Who the fuck are you?”

A girl stands there with her face blurred and clipped out, but for some reason, he knows her expression is one of shock and disbelief.

“Katsuki, don’t you remember me?”

Bakugou jolts awake. The sound of someone’s voice he can’t quite hear the words off ring in his mind, and he clenches his shirt as his heart pounds so loud it feels like it’s echoing throughout the entire room. Sweat is everywhere, clinging to his skin like a layer of dust, and a glance at his alarm clock shows 02:31. He lets out a loud groan, glaring at his empty ceiling. He’s definitely not going to sleep anytime soon. With sweat clinging to every part of his body, he swings his legs off and heads to the door. He needs a shower.

And coffee.

—

“Weird dreams? Seeing items not there?” Recovery Girl looks at him thoughtfully. “And you’re positive it’s not a Quirk?”

“That’s what I said,” Katsuki replied through gritted teeth. He’d have known if it was a Quirk. Even some Quirks weren’t touch-based, it was hard to be put under a quirk undetected. This was something else. “If it’s not doing you any physical harm, then my Quirk can’t help you with that. The best prescription I can give you is neuroleptic medications and sedatives for a good night's sleep. Other than that, try to take your mind off training for a while and take the rest of the day off. I suspect that you’re overworked.”

With Recovery Girl’s advice in mind, Katsuki comes out of the infirmary feeling less sane than he originally felt. Overworked? As if. The most eventful thing he experienced this month was him buying a fucking toaster.

With a heavy grunt, he opens the library door and ignores the hall just down the corridor. You’re probably on vacation, or visiting relatives. No point in going there.

If he’s barred from training the rest of today, then he could kill time by learning something new. If he wants to be a top hero, he’s got to be able to communicate. That means in both Japanese and English. If he can read more English books, he’d surely be more fluent in—

He stops short. In front of him, is a yellow thread. It curves and winds and leads him all the way to the back of the library, slung over seats and tables of the nearly isolated room. He’s heard about cringy soulmate manga from Mina, the one where the pinkies of two individuals are connected by a red string. This one, however, is yellow, and looks way thinner, like a spider’s skein.

Yellow.

That was your favourite colour.

Intrigued, he follows it all the way, and when he stops to see what’s at the end of it, he finds an essay shelved in the wrong way buried behind the dusty books that haven’t been borrowed in a long, long time. He almost misses it, but when he does find it, he takes it off the shelf and eyes the title wearily.

Phenomenon: Reset

It’s clearly not a published book, it’s bonded by stapler bullets and it’s written on the old U.A. foolscap that was outdated years ago. It’s more like a log then a book, a diary, even. Katsuki slaps himself mentally. What the fuck is he doing? Playing detective for his delusions? This could be a prank for all he knows, and the yellow skein his eyes playing tricks on him. This was—

‘Not a Quirk, causes people to become nearly invisible to the eye.’

Katsuki blinks rapidly.

Hah?

‘Day 3: I tried to talk to him the other day. It’s like we never met. He asked me if I was a new transfer student. I’ve been in his class for over a year.’

‘Day 4: He forgot our conversation the previous day. The teacher missed my name during attendance and called my parents up today. What’s going on?’

Katsuki skims through the rest of the days, and with each passing page, the handwriting gets more and more illegible.

‘Day 7: I feel like a ghost. My parents still remember me, thank goodness. I don’t know if I could handle it if they didn’t.’

‘Day 16: If this is some sick joke, I hope it ends already. What the hell? It’s like it’s a reset for me every single day. Every time I try to tell someone about it the person straight up forgets me the next day. This isn’t funny anymore.’

‘Day 70: He sees me! I don’t know how this worked but he sees me! I tried probing for more, but I can’t believe it! I’m so glad…it’s been so long since someone looked at me in the eye.”

‘Day 71: He remembers! Honestly, I don’t care that everyone else isn’t noticing me anymore, just having one person is enough.”

‘Day 121: I told him about my situation, and thankfully he believed me. He said he had a feeling about it, something about a watch and the stupid tree in the forest we used to sleep under. He said it kept popping up everywhere and it was driving him crazy.’

‘Day 235: I found an article that’d tried to be covered up. One of the government’s mistakes, back when Quirks were new. It had something to do with a science experiment gone wrong. It might be a lead.’

It goes on and on, from red hairs to dead ends, but through it, Katsuki got a gist of the situation. A science experiment from 70 years ago was conducted to see if a Quirk could be transferred forcibly from one person to another. That Quirk was named Undetected, one of the less destructive Quirks of that time and among the few who agreed to proceed with this experiment.

It might be possible in the modern day, but humans back then were far too uneducated to be dealing with Quirks that were still relatively new. The experiment went wrong, obviously, and it resulted in a glitch of the person’s Quirk and the region the experiment was being carried out in. Victims ended up forgotten with a presence so low that they were basically invisible. Back when this article was still new, there had been questions raised about it, whether these Quirks were more of a curse than a blessing, but with time this phenomenon ‘faded out of existence’.

No one could prove it, and the victims were chalked up to accidents or lunatics. Not many were affected anyway, and almost as quickly as the rumour made headlines, it disappeared entirely from the internet.

Katsuki’s blood runs cold.

Is this what was going on with you?

He leafs through the paper and skips to the last day that was catalogued.

‘Day 435: He said that I looked really pale, and told me that he’d found a way to save me. I was really glad, I was really. I only wish that we could have done it before it was too late.’

Katsuki flips the page over to find nothing else written and almost crumples the paper up in frustration.

He needs to see you. Now.

#juxtaposition (Bakugou)#mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #angst #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

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Let's Talk About That Chapter 8

Psychiatrist!Avenger!fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: The team discusses what to do about Thanos

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning: Mostly angst, but some fluff too!

A/N: Writing through Infinity War has been a hell of a journey and I still have more to do!

"Hello secretary." Steve said to the hologram of secretary Ross as we entered the compound. You held Natasha’s hand with Wanda and Vision behind you.

"You have some nerve coming here." Secretary Ross spoke.

"Looks like you could use some of that right about now." Natasha stated bluntly.

"The world's on fire and you think all's forgiven?" Ross asks Steve.

"I'm not looking for forgiveness and I'm way past asking for permission. Earth just lost her best defender so we're here to fight and if you want to stand in our way then we can fight you too." Steve stated to Ross who turned his attention to Rhodey.

"Aresst them." Ross said.

"Will do." Rhodey pushed the holograms effectively ending the virtual call.

"That sounded like a court marshal." Rhodey stated flatly before smiling. "It's good to see you Cap." Holding out his hand which Cap shook. Then Natasha let go of your hand giving Rhodey a hug.

"Well you guys all look like crap." Rhodey jokes and you let out a chuckle.

"You should have seen the other guys. I got there and they ran with their tails between their legs." You told him a big smile on your face.

"Went all power stone on then didn't you?" You nodded, earning a hair ruffle from Rhodey.

"Of course they were hurting people I care about." You looked back at Wanda and Vision with a smile. "No one gets away with hurting the people I care about."

"I think you guys look great." You hear as you turn your head to the familiar voice of Bruce. Natasha doesn't move, but you do, running up to hug him.

"Missed you big guy. Both of you." You say as he picks you up.

"Missed you little lady."

"Hi Bruce." Natasha speaks and you let go looking back at her. The faintest smile in the corners of her lips.

"Nat." He does a nod of his head.

You run back over to Tasha. "Go." You whisper through your teeth. She shakes her head ever so slightly. "If I did it you can do it. Go." You move behind her and push her. Making her stumble forward, Bruce catching her as you move back next to Wanda and sigh. "Young love...or old...I'm not quite sure anymore with those two." You state to the now red head, last you had seen her Wanda still had brunette hair.

As you glanced back at Natasha and Bruce, a sense of hope flickered within you, a reminder that even amidst chaos and uncertainty, love and connection could endure, serving as a beacon of light in the darkness.

When Vision is taken by Bruce to be examined and Nat talks with Steve, Rhodey, and Sam, Wanda pulls you away into the compound. You trail behind her, relishing in the way her hand feels in yours. You had missed how it felt; almost forgot how it felt actually.

You don't realize it until she opens the door that she's taken you to your office. She looked back at you and gave a small smile as she sat on the couch like she always used to. You walk to your desk, seeing everything as you had left it. Your notebook for Wanda sitting there. You smile, picking it up along with the red pen you always used for her notes, testing the pen to make sure it still works.

You move back over sitting across from her, clicking your pen as you look at her over your glasses.

"Are you happier with her?" Wanda asks, making your throat dry up instantly. It felt hard to swallow, hard to breath.

"Don't make me answer that." You manage to say.

"Why? 'Cause it's true?"

"You know it's not. I love Natasha. Truly I do, but I'm not happier with her. The only thing that makes me happier is knowing she's made me a better person for you if you can ever give me a second chance and if not. I'll settle for her." You tell her flat out, putting your feelings out there. "My heart has always been yours."

"Does she know that?"

"Of course she does. She's not stupid." You respond with a slight bite to your words as you write in your note book.

Feeling a need to lay bare the depth of your feelings, you flipped through the pages of the notebook, searching for a particular entry. As you found the right page, you turned the notebook toward Wanda, revealing a love note you had penned after she returned from Lagos, a moment etched in my memory where she broke down, finding solace in your arms.

The emotions spilled across the page, a raw expression of love, hurt, and comfort. You saw the reflection of those sentiments in Wanda's eyes as tears glistened, capturing the spectrum of her feelings in a poignant dance of colors. The room held a heavy silence, interrupted only by the quiet sobs that reverberated between the two of you, bridging the gap between past and present.

"You took my hurt away...?" Wanda's voice was soft, laced with disbelief and a hint of wonder. You nodded solemnly, feeling the weight of your actions settle heavily on your shoulders.

"I know I said I'd never do it without your permission, but I had to take some of it. I could see it overtaking you. It was bitter and tasted like bile," You explained, a shiver coursing through you at the memory. "You know I don't like eating emotions, especially negative ones."

Wanda nodded in understanding before rising from her seat, crossing the space between you until your knees touched. Her touch was gentle as she cupped your cheek, coaxing you to meet her gaze. You hesitated, but her commanding tone compelled you to look into her deep green eyes, the same eyes you had always found solace in.

"Hey. Look at me," she urged softly, her voice carrying a mixture of warmth and familiarity. You met her gaze, feeling a sense of calm wash over you as your eyes locked.

"I missed the fuck out of you. I was upset with you about that jealous outburst, but you were just a kid still, and I forgot that along the way because you're you and so smart and mature," she confessed, her words washing over you like a soothing balm. You leaned into her touch, finally allowing yourself to relax in her presence.

"I'm sorry for what happened to us two years ago, Y/N," Wanda apologized, her voice laced with genuine remorse. You smiled softly and pressed a kiss to her hand in response.

"I'm sorry too, Wanda. If it hadn't been for those stupid accords..."

"We don't know what could have or would have happened, Y/N, and we shouldn't dwell on that. All we can do is move forward and see where that takes us," she reassured you, her words resonating deeply within you.

You nodded in agreement, pulling her into a tight hug, reveling in the familiar warmth of her embrace. As you buried your face in her neck, you breathed in her intoxicating scent of vanilla, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. Opening your eyes, you saw the telltale red aura surrounding her, a manifestation of love and passion that stirred something deep within you. With a smile, you allowed yourself to fully embrace the moment, knowing that your journey forward held endless possibilities.

"Vision and I have a connection through the mind stone, and I do love him just like how I know you love Nat. What you and I had, I will always hold close, but I can't just leave Vision," Wanda's words cut through you like a knife, each syllable piercing deeper into your heart.

You struggled to find a response, your mind reeling with a mix of emotions—heartache, disappointment, and a lingering sense of resignation. Before you could gather your thoughts to form a coherent reply, Tasha's voice interrupted the heavy silence, drawing your attention to the doorway where she stood.

"Figured I'd find you two here. Time for a meeting on what we're going to be doing," Tasha announced, her presence offering a temporary respite from the weight of the conversation.

You stood up at Tasha's words, leaving Wanda behind in the office. Tasha pulled you close, her kiss on your cheek a fleeting reassurance amidst the turmoil brewing inside you. Her whispered question echoed in your ear, and you offered only a small shrug in response as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"We'll talk later, okay?" You assured Tasha, and she simply nodded in understanding as Wanda joined you, her presence feeling like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You didn't pay much attention to her, but you noticed Tasha's subtle glance back at Wanda, a silent warning simmering beneath the surface of her gaze. If looks could kill, Wanda would be dead from whatever Tasha had conveyed in that single glance.

"So we gotta assume they're coming back, right?" Bruce asks, his tone laced with concern as he scans the room for answers.

"And they can clearly find us," Wanda reminds the group, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

"We need all hands on deck. Where's Clint?" Bruce inquires, his gaze sweeping the room for any sign of the absent Avenger.

"After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families. They're on house arrest," Nat explains to Bruce, filling him in on the latest developments.

"Who's Scott?" Bruce's confusion is palpable as he seeks clarification.

"Ant-Man," Cap offers, providing the missing link.

"There's an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man?" Bruce's incredulity is evident as he processes the information.

"Look, Thanos has the biggest army in the universe... and he is not gonna stop until he gets..." Bruce's voice trails off, his gaze shifting between Vision and you, hesitating to voice his next words. "Till he gets those stones," he finally concludes, pointing at the two of you.

You feel a surge of anxiety grip you as Bruce's words sink in. Tasha, sensing your unease, moves closer to Bruce, her protective instincts kicking in.

"Well then, we have to protect them," Tasha declares firmly, her eyes darting between Bruce and you, a silent vow of defense.

"No, we have to destroy them," Vision interjects, his tone resolute and unwavering.

You can't help but chuckle at Vision's suggestion, though the humor quickly fades as the gravity of his words settles over you.

"Ha! No. Hell fucking no. I don't plan on dying, or did you forget I said that? I will die without the stone," You retort, your defiance clear to everyone in the room, especially Vision.

"I've given this a great deal of thought, Y/N. I do not say it lightly, but if he does get his hands on these stones... especially yours, he'll be unstoppable," Vision insists, meeting your gaze with a solemn intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You struggle to catch my breath, the weight of Vision's words bearing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Your hand instinctively reaches for your chest, as if seeking reassurance from the stone that rests within you.

"I've thought about the nature of my stone, along with yours and some of the last words you said while we were allies. Knowing what your stone is capable of. We must destroy them and I think if they were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source," Vision explains, his voice tinged with determination as he approaches Wanda.

You rise from your spot, brushing off Tasha's attempt to stop you, and step closer, feeling Wanda's eyes flicker to you before returning to Vision, who gently places his hands on her arms. "Something very similar to their own signature perhaps," he continues, his touch reminiscent of the way you used to hold her, though his hands are much larger than your own. "Its molecular integrity could fail."

"Yeah, and both of you with it," Wanda responds, her gaze shifting between Vision and you. "We aren't having this discussion. It's too high a price to lose both of you," she declares firmly, trying to contain her frustration.

Vision's hands move to Wanda's cheeks, holding her gently, but she steps away from him, her resolve evident. You move closer to her, feeling the tension in the air thickening.

"Y/N, don't," You hear the tremor in her voice, the raw emotion threatening to spill over.

You bite the inside of my cheek, grappling with the gravity of the situation. "Wanda," You address her firmly, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. "If you refuse... I will take Vision's stone out of his head because I know I can, and I will personally crush it, and then my own if that is our last resort," You declare, your tone unyielding. "And I will do it in front of you," You add, squeezing her shoulder for emphasis. "I don't say this lightly because I'd rather not die. I personally think that between the three of us we can take him down, but if you won't do it, I will," You assert, speaking with a deadly seriousness before returning to your spot, your heart heavy with the weight of your words.

"I won't entertain the idea of trading lives," Cap asserts firmly.

"Seventy years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people?" Vision responds, his voice carrying a weight of history. You tune out their exchange, feeling a sense of unease settling over you. You lean forward, pulling Tasha back to you, seeking comfort in her presence. Wrapping your arms around her waist, you settle her between your legs, resting your chin on her shoulder as you gaze at Wanda. Regret and guilt weigh heavy on your heart, and you grip Tasha tighter until she makes a small noise of discomfort. Quickly, you release your hold, whispering an apology.

"Sorry..." You murmur softly, your voice barely audible.

Tasha responds with a gentle pat on your arm, understanding in her touch. "It's okay, Y/N," she whispers back.

As Bruce delves into an explanation about Vision's complex composition, your brows furrow in confusion. "What?" You whisper, turning to Bruce. "How did I not know there's parts of me in him?" You ask, bewildered by the revelation.

"Tony put everything of you that Jarvis collected over the years of your sessions," Bruce explains matter-of-factly.

"Good to know my sessions were private," You mutter sarcastically against Tasha's shoulder.

"You're saying Vision isn't just the stone?" Wanda interjects, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

"I'm saying that if we take out the stone, there is still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts," Bruce elaborates, prompting a moment of contemplative silence.

"What about me?" You inquire, releasing Tasha and standing up once more, your emotions bubbling to the surface. "You told me years ago that this stone is attached. It's wrapped around my lungs and my heart. If we take it out of me..." Your voice cracks, tears spilling down your cheeks. "I will die," You confess, your vulnerability laid bare for all to see.

Bruce places his hands on your shoulders, offering reassurance as you struggle to maintain composure. "I've thought about it a lot over the years, and I was thinking maybe, similar to Tony, we could do an open-heart surgery. Open you up and basically cut away the tendrils that the stone has put around your heart and lungs. Take the stone out and put an arc reactor in its place to keep you going," he suggests, his words hanging heavy in the air.

"D-do you think we can do that?" Tasha's voice quivers with fear and concern.

"Not me. Not here," Bruce replies solemnly, withdrawing his hands as you retreat back to Tasha's embrace.

"Well, you better find someone and somewhere fast," Rhodes interjects, breaking the somber atmosphere with a practical reminder.

"I know somewhere," Cap offers, his voice cutting through the tension with a sense of urgency.

As you holed yourself away in the small room of the Quinjet, facing the wall to hide your tears, the weight of your emotions overwhelmed you. Sobs wracked your body, your throat burning with the effort to contain your grief. In moments like these, you longed for the ability to numb your own emotions, to escape the pain that threatened to consume you.

A knock at the door startled you, and you called out for whoever it was to go away. Despite your plea, the door opened, and you tensed, expecting Tasha's presence. Yet, as the cot beside you shifted, you realized it was someone else. you didn't dare look, even when I felt soft lips press against the back of my shoulder, and tears dampened my shirt.

"I can't lose you," came the whispered confession, confirming your suspicion that it was Wanda behind you.

"Why not? You have Vision," you replied, your voice strained and cracked from crying.

"I do, but I don't want to lose you. You're too important. I meant what I said," Wanda insisted, her arm tightening around you as she pulled you closer.

"It's too high a price," she added, sending a shiver down your spine. You reached out, placing your hand over hers, and then turned to face her, allowing her to pull you into her embrace.

"Come here," You whispered, giving in to the flood of emotions as you cried in her arms. "Wands, I don't want to die... I know we're Avengers, but I'm terrified of death," You confessed, your tears flowing freely as she rubbed your back in a comforting gesture, mirroring the care you had shown her countless times before.

"I won't let that happen. I promise," Wanda whispered soothingly. "Just rest for now. We'll be in Wakanda soon enough, and I don't want you thinking about it anymore."

Looking up at her, you found the courage to ask something you had never asked before, a desperate plea born out of fear and desperation. "Can you take it away? Can you make me forget it?"

Wanda cupped your cheek, her touch gentle yet determined as she searched through your thoughts, sensing the depth of your distress. With a nod, she moved her fingers to your temples, her crimson tendrils reaching out as you closed your eyes, surrendering to her power.

"Shhhh, don't worry anymore, Detka... rest now," were the last words you heard, and you swore you felt her lips brush against yours before sleep claimed you, offering temporary respite from the weight of your fears.

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