#next step is to write when i am not dead tired and can actually think

[foli-vora]

one step at a time: ch 5.

pero tovar x f!reader

masterlist | series masterlist

A/N: lord almighty, it's been a fucking while. I admit to abandoning these two for other things and that's my bad, but I hope I can rekindle this almost dead fire because these two are so fucking fun to write and I enjoyed getting back into their little growing dynamic. Hope you enjoy! x

Word count: just over 2.3k I think

Warnings: Tovar needs to understand the five second rule only applies in certain locations and in public is not one of them, bit of sexism on his part, alcohol and drunken shenanigans, some dude being a prick, swearing, he's warming up to you slowly but surely lmao

! please note that this story is for 18+ only due to future explicit scenes !

He’s been standing there for a good ten minutes, studying the methodical spinning of the drum, eyes following the clothes and how they tumble in the soapy water. You don’t know how the original clothing he appeared in will handle the vigorous cycle of a twenty-first century washing machine, but he seemed intrigued enough to give it a go.

With Tovar now living with you for an unknown amount of time, it pushed you to actually get a few needed things done around the apartment—like the pile of laundry you had been pretending to not see every time you walked into your bedroom. And now, with having an extra person creating their own build up of clothing, the pile was something you could no longer ignore.

Along with your bank account.

Tovar had noticed the steadily declining stash of snacks in the cupboards that had yet to be replaced, but had remained surprisingly quiet about it all. You had been braced for some sort of adult tantrum about sugar, but instead you started to notice little differences in the way he acted around food.

He doesn’t raid the cupboards anymore. In fact, he had asked before getting any sort of snack a few days ago. He waited for you to have your fill at lunch and dinner before having seconds. You had told him not to worry—you were getting back into work and already had a couple of projects lined up, but so far his new habits hadn’t wavered.

“Is there nothing I can do to help you, loquita?” He had asked over breakfast, and he was so earnest in his questioning, so eager to help you in any way that he could financially that you felt your heart do a little somersault. “I want to work, let me help you while I am here.”

His later stubborn declaration that he wouldn’t let you shoulder the burden alone after refusing his offer didn’t help whatever feelings were stirring to life in your body, but the comment about how women shouldn’t even be working and it was a man’s responsibility to provide did help cover them.

Dick.

Tovar slips into the chair next to you, apparently tired of the magnificence of a washing machine, and sighs. “I am bored.”

“Deal with it.”

You tilt your open book away from his prying eyes as he strains to read over your arm, and fight a smile as he grumbles angrily to himself, slouching down in the aged plastic chair and crossing his arms like a child. Just when you think the silence is going to stay around, that he was just accepting defeat and waiting like a normal human being, he pipes up beside you.

“How do you do that?” It’s almost a demand.

You tear your eyes away from your book and raise a brow in question at him.

“The… the thing in your mouth. How do you blow it like that?”

Your tongue forms another bubble of gum before he can finish his questioning, and you fight the creepings of a grin starting to tug at the corner of your lips when his scowl merely deepens at the sharp pop.

“Bubblegum,” you offer as an explanation, reaching into your bag and offering him the crinkled packet. “It took me a while to learn when I was a kid, but you’ve just gotta have patience. It might be tricky for you.”

He half heartedly scoffs, “I have patience.”

You snort in disagreement, “Okay. Chew it for a while, but don’t swallow it. Once it’s all soft and wet, you can start trying.”

He makes a noise when he determines the fruity treat is ready, and you lay out simple instructions for him to follow along, which he does.

For the most part.

It’s only a few tries later when you hear the gum land on the floor after an overzealous attempt at blowing a bubble, the man practically staring daggers at the pale pink glob a foot or two in front of him.

You eye the wet lump of gum with a snicker and reach for a fresh stick, “Obviously don’t blow it that hard. No, don’t—”

It’s too late. He pinches the well chewed treat from the grimy surface of the floor and puts it back in his mouth before resuming his efforts. Your face is pinched in horror when his eyes finally land back on you, and he tilts his head in question. He’s not serious.

“Get that out of your mouth right now.”

He bats you away when you reach a hand for him, and you practically throw your book down onto your bag to get at him with two hands. You stand over him, fighting his half hearted attempts to get you away from him easily and squeeze at his jaw, fingers digging into his lips to try and pry his mouth open.

“Tovar, spit it out!”

His head turns away from your grasp and he growls, “No—”

“I’m serious, spit it out!”

“Get off me, woman!”

“You don’t eat gum off the floor! What is wrong with you? Spit it out!”

—

Music fills the little bar around the corner from your apartment, conversation buzzing in the air filled with the occasional laugh. It’s your favourite place to go when you feel like you’ve been spending maybe a little too long cramped on your couch with minimal human interaction. Tricia, a friend from college, owned it with her girlfriend Lily, and gave you quite the wonderful little discount whenever you decided to swing by.

A good thing to have under your sleeve when you’ve got a bottomless pit of a man to feed and entertain for however long.

“Are you still sulking?”

A sharp scoff.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you sigh, placing the little cocktail list down and levelling him with a look of annoyance. “Cut it out, you manchild. You ate gum off the floor and that’s gross.”

“You didn’t have to yell at me,” Tovar replies grumpily, arms still crossed over his chest and lips pursed into a little disgruntled pout.

Sighing, your head dips into a nod and you hold your hands up in a show of surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry for yelling, okay? Can you forgive me?”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“You’re not serious."

“Try me.”

He wants to play? Fine.

“Oh sweet and wonderful Tovar," you ooze, tone honeyed and apologetic, "how appalled I am by my previous actions after you ate gum off the filthy laundromat floor. Please, won't you find it in your heart to forgive me lest I throw myself onto this very floor and weep at your feet?"

He’s thoroughly unimpressed, staring unblinkingly back at you before he smacks his lips quietly and tilts his head.

“Dramatic, but I accept.”

“Good. Now let’s get drunk.”

“Fine,” he sniffs, making a show of appearing uninterested in the offer but the telltale signs of a smile start to tug at the corners of his lips. “Watching you make a fool of yourself will amuse me.”

“Don’t be mean,” you chide with a grin, picking the menu back up and looking over the list of options. “How about a cosmo? Mojito? Sex on the Beach?”

He has a look of confusion when you peer up at him after a beat of silence. “There are no beaches around here.”

“Not actual sex on the beach, Tovar. It’s a drink. God, do you really think they’d have that on a menu?”

“A man can dream.”

“Oh, he has a sense of humour tonight,” you drawl sarcastically to yourself. “Think I prefer you all quiet and sulky.”

“Now who’s being mean?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Screw it—let’s get shots. You gonna be able to hold your drink, mercenary man?”

His lips curl into a small smirk at your challenge and it seems to hit somewhere deep in your stomach. You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, desperately fighting the flush of warmth that threatens to spread along your skin.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we, loquita?”

Were they a good idea? Yes, but you’re sure you’ll think differently in the morning.

The first round burns, and you relish in the fire that spreads along your throat as it goes down. He takes it well, merely swallowing it down and chasing the remnants of alcohol from his lips with a quick roll of tongue.

Something you definitely don’t watch with a wave of warmth tingling along down your spine. 

The second goes down the same, albeit birthing a pleasant buzz to your system that extends to Tovar.

Surprisingly, he’s a talker. The alcohol loosens him up, and soon enough he’s telling you of his time… world—whichever it is. He tells you of his friend William, and the adventures they had. His storytelling is immersive, and soon you’re picturing him riding his horse into a small battle donned in that hulking armour and swinging that heavy sword of his.

Hot.

You wisely keep that fleeting thought to yourself.

He asks questions. So many questions you find yourself talking and talking and talking. He takes it all in, never once making you feel that he was bored or uninterested in your train of steadily drunken rambling. You order cocktails, and watch in amusement as he eyes the colourful little umbrella and the lit sparkler that comes in his glass.

“You can write your name with them,” you let him know with an air of childish excitement, making a mental note to swing by the store and find some for another day as he blinks in vague curiosity, watching as it fizzles out into nothing.

You probably should’ve called it a night when the dance floor started calling to you, so you ordered another round and dragged your new friend along with you to the sea of swaying bodies. He takes to it as much as you expected.

“Come on, Tovar,” you coax with a laugh. “Dance!”

His feet remain planted heavily on the ground, completely unmoving despite the bodies that dance around him. He watches you blankly as you grab at his hands and swing his arms back and forth somewhat in time to the steady beat. 

“This is not dancing,” he states plainly, eyeing the way you shake your hips and duck under his arm in a makeshift twirl.

“Well obviously, you’re not moving!”

It’s during another stupid little twirl that you catch the eyes of a girl, entrapped and clearly uncomfortable with the arms winding their way around her small frame. You drop Tovar’s hands immediately and march towards her, alcohol fuelling your confidence and stamina for confrontation.

“Hey, she said no,” you cut in with a small glare, shoving the arm of thick muscle away from the young red head who tries to pull herself out of the stranger's touch.

She shoots you a thankful glance, taking the outstretched hand of one of her friends deeper in the crowd but she chooses to linger in silent support as the man turns his attention to you.

“Mind your business, bitch,” he spits drunkenly. 

“Oh, charming,” you scoff in his face, brows pulled tightly together as you eye him. “Leave the girls alone and go find your own friends to harass.” 

The blonde meathead scoffs, swaying unsteadily on his feet. With her undefeated sense for feeling when trouble is afoot in her bar, Trish quickly appears from nowhere, stepping up beside you and nodding to the door.

“Think you’ve had enough now. Time to call it a night.”

“No, I’m allowed a drink.”

“Sure you are, but not here. Out.”

“Make me—”

Hands suddenly curl into the shirt covering his broad shoulders from behind, and they tug sharply, the idiot stumbling and swearing as Tovar all but drags him through the crowd to the door. You follow unsteadily behind them, watching in keen entertainment as Tovar gives the man a firm shove through the door and he stumbles out into the street with one final shout.

“Tovar,” you sing in faux disapproval, grinning when he merely turns and gives an innocent shrug.

“What? He said ‘make me’. So I did.”

“Damn, you want a job here?” Trish grins teasingly, crossing her arms and appraising Tovar with keen eyes. “You’re already doing better than the idiot we’ve got now.”

“Alright,” he agrees readily, taking you both by surprise.

“Tovar, you don’t need a job,” you insist, your words maybe coming out with a slight slur as the bar spins in your peripheral. Damn tequila. “I said I can handle it.”

“When could you start?” Trish asks with interest, ignoring your refusal.

“Tomorrow.”

She considers it for a quiet moment before nodding. “Done.”

“What? No. Trish, no. He can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He can’t.”

She snorts, waving away the issue with a flick of well manicured blood red nails. “I’ll pay cash, I don’t care. All I know is your man is scary, and I need scary here. He’ll keep everyone in line frownin’ like that.”

You roll your eyes. “He’s not ‘my man’. He’s my lost little time travelling mercenary and I’m gonna get him home to his horse.”

Trish studies you blankly from head to toe before pursing her glossed lips. “Maybe you should call it a night, too.”

“I’m being serious, I hit him with my car—”

She glances at Tovar who seems genuinely amused watching you stutter and stumble over your words. “Get her home, and I’ll see you tomorrow night. Six pm sharp, don’t be late.”

“Ah loquita, what am I to do with you, hm?” He asks, gently taking you by the arm and leading you out of the bar with a roguish grin. He’s enjoying this far too fucking much.

You frown at him, stumbling over your feet and clutching at his jacket to keep from falling over. He steadies you easily with an arm around your waist, the smile not once wavering from his lips. You poke at it with a half hearted glare, watching as it merely spreads wider.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“Oh, I would never,” he replies in mock seriousness.

“Mm,” you hum, leaning comfortably into him as he leads the way back to the apartment. Thank god he’s got a good memory—you’d be screwed trying to navigate your way home like this. “Tovar, can we get nuggets?”

[waterfire1848]

cat ozai au?

Hello, anon!!! Shout out to @akiizayoi4869 for helping me!!

1. In a world with no war, the royal family still has some issues. Mainly that they suck at properly communicating with one another which has caused more than a few arguments. Ursa has tried to help the family communicate better but they’re really struggling. One night, a family dinner turns into one of the most heated arguments of all time. Zuko yells that Ozai doesn’t care about him at all and Azula claims that he only cares about her bending but doesn’t want to know her as a person (of course she still has some problems with Ursa but at the moment everything is directed towards Ozai). Ursa tries to talk to Ozai after the dinner but he says he needs some space and leaves. While out in the garden, Ozai wishes that he could know more about his children and be more involved in their lives. A nearby spirit hears him and says that he can make that happen. Ozai agrees to the spirit’s help and he’s turned into a cat.

2. Ozai, of course, tries to fight the spirit but just ends up hurting himself. He’s discovered by Ursa, who mistakes him for a stray, and takes him inside to help heal his injured leg. (Ursa: Poor thing. Did you get into a fight with a fox-owl or tiger-monkey? Ozai: Actually a spirit. Ursa: Talkative little thing, aren’t you? Don’t worry. Our healers will fix your leg and you can be on your merry way. Ozai: Yeah, not happening. I’ll be staying in the nice way palace. Thank you very much.) While she’s walking through the halls, Zuko spots her and the cat in her arms. He instantly asks if they can keep him but Ursa is reluctant because Ozai isn’t fond of pets. Azula hears what’s going on and asks as well. Ursa agrees that they can keep the cat for now but Ozai has final say. (Azula: Dad’ll never let us keep a cat. Ozai: Because they’re annoying, show no affection, and they’re pests more than pets. If you kids want a pet then we’ll invest in an actual pet befitting the Royal Family. Zuko: Awww. He’s so chatty. Ursa: He really is. I think his paw is hurting him. I’m going to take him to the healer. Azula: Could we name him? Ozai: No! No, Ursa, stop this! Ursa: Not right now, baby. I don’t want you kids getting attached. Besides, he’s so good with people. He probably has owners of his own that he’ll have to go back to.). The healer washes him and bandages up his paw before returning him to Ursa’s room. Ursa, worried about Ozai and wondering why he hasn’t returned, almost doesn’t notice the black cat on her bed until she gets ready to go to bed. Too tired to remove him, Ursa allows him to remain in her room. Ozai tries to think up how to get rid of this curse and why the spirit would curse him like this until he sees Ursa shaking and realizes she’s crying. He makes his way over and falls asleep nuzzled next to her and purring to provide some comfort.

3. Ozai is declared missing by tomorrow afternoon. The palace sends out a search part for him but no one can find anything. (A letter is also sent to Iroh to tell him that his brother has gone missing). While everyone searches for Ozai, Ursa agrees to let the kids keep the cat so they can have something good to focus on. Ozai is still dead set on them figuring out who he is but no matter what he does, it doesn’t work. He tries writing his name (it gets stepped on), telling people (all they can hear is meowing), and even bringing things to them that he had bought (this backfires horribly when he brings Azula a teddy bear he got her as a child and the family decides to name him Teddy.). Iroh returns to the palace a few days later, introduced to Teddy:the family’s temporary pet, but, much to Ozai’s shock, Iroh actually can understand him. (Ozai: You can understand me? Iroh: Years of spiritual training was not just for show, brother. Ozai: Tell them it’s me! Help me change back! Iroh: I don’t think I should do that. The spirits clearly did this for a reason. You need to live through this. Ozai: Iroh, I am not a cat! Get me out of this body! Iroh: When was the last time you spent one on one time with Zuko? Ozai: I…umm… Iroh: What’s Azula’s favorite dessert flavor?Ozai: I know her favorite dessert? Iroh: You see my point? Ozai: I’ll do better but not as a cat. Iroh: Sorry, brother. Noting I can do. Zuko: Uncle! Are you talking to Teddy? Iroh: You have a very talkative little fella. Ozai: Iroh. Iroh, picking him up: Here you go, nephew. Be gently with him. Zuko: I know. Come on, Teddy. Azula and I got you some treats. Ozai: Yay….cat treats.) Ozai is gonna kill his brother when all of this is over.

4. One day, while he’s relaxing in Zuko’s room (cat’s sleep a lot, he’s realizing), he notices Zuko come home in a huff from school and slam his stuff down then fall into his pillow. Ozai gets up to investigate what’s going on but is almost knocked off the bed by Zuko when he firebends in rage. Zuko ends up ranting about how there’s a big firebending performance happening at his school and he knows he’s going to fail it. Ozai tries to tell him that he wouldn’t fail if he put time into practicing only for Zuko to continue ranting and, eventually, he decides to head over to the training room, taking “Teddy” with him. When they get there, Ozai realizes that Zuko is doing the moves correctly—which isn’t what he thought—but is struggling nonetheless. He was always so focused on Azula that he didn’t notice that his son was doing the right moves, he just needed more instruction and help. (Zuko, feeling Teddy press his head against his leg: Teddy, I can’t play right now. Ozai: Keep your legs anchored to the floor. You need your legs rooted to the ground to help control your fire. *Pressing his paws against Zuko’s feet*. Zuko: Are you giving me firebending lessons, little guy? Ozai: I know you can’t understand me but please understand me. You’re putting too much power into your bending. You are a firebender. The fire will come. Zuko: Thanks for the pep talk, buddy. Now, why don’t we move you away from the fire. Ozai, ears falling: Right. Can’t understand me.) Later that day, he comes across Azula and finds her in her room freaking out over something. Jumping on her desk to hear more, he finds out that she has a crush on two different people: a boy named Chan and her friend Ty Lee. Ozai is beyond taken aback by this. He didn’t not know Azula was already getting crushes. (Ozai: You can’t date yet. You’re still just a kid. Azula: I don’t know what to do Teddy. Ozai: Don’t date. I never trusted Ty Lee and this Chan guy sounds like a jerk. Just stay single. Problem solved! Azula: You think I should handle it like a battle strategy? Great idea! *Runs off* Ozai: What? No. Sweetie, you can’t-….I never taught her what to do when she has a crush, did I? Iroh: No, you didn’t. Ozai: Were you just standing there? Iroh: I heard you talking. Ozai:….Am I just as bad a father? Iroh: No! No, you’re not. Because father never even thought he was wrong. You realize that you are. Ozai: I want to help them.)

5. A couple more weeks go by and the family starts to realize more and more that Teddy might not be an ordinary cat because he’s helping them with almost all of their problems. He helps Zuko with his firebending, getting him the highest report he’s ever gotten by his tutors, helped Azula with her dating crisis—even though he really thought she shouldn’t be dating—and provided Ursa with comfort and help since she was feeling overwhelmed with everything now that Ozai was gone. By now, Ozai has also been declared dead and the family is mourning his death. It’s hard for him to see everyone mourning him when he’s right there but the most he can do for his children and wife is to give them some form of comfort. One night, he’s asleep next to Ursa, when he hears someone outside. His ears perk up and he quickly realizes that it’s the same spirit as before. Ozai slips out of her hold and back to the garden. (Spirit: Enjoying yourself? Ozai, sarcastically: Greatly. Why are you here? Spirit: I think it’s time for Teddy to go and Ozai to return. Ozai: You’re turning me back!!! Spirit: If you wish. Ozai: Actually…I have a request.) Ursa wakes up the next morning to see her husband smiling at her. Of course, she and the kids are beyond thankful that Ozai is alive and well and back at the palace. But they’d by lying if they said they weren’t also thankful for the fact that he found Teddy wandering in the garden by himself. (Iroh: Asked the spirit to make Teddy a real cat? Ozai: They deserve a pet. Iroh: You know I’m going to tell them you were the cat, right? Ozai: Iroh- Iroh: Hey, Ursa, remember a few weeks ago when Teddy got into your secret stash of chocolate?)

[adamstanheightsleftshoulder]

i’m going to be okay || adam stanheight

tw: death, dying, the bathroom trap, saw typical violence mentioned

implied xreader (he mentions a partner/Y/N in his thoughts)

this is my first time posting any of my writing online so like that's cool? Filled with fear about it actually. anyway this little bit about Adam's thoughts when Amanda went back for him would not get out of my brain so. here?

Dark.

It’s so, so dark.

Adam can barely remember what it was like not to be in the dark, it feels like his life is disconnected to this.

Nothing seems to connect to the way he’s “living” now. His stomach has long since stopped hurting, thank God, but the emptiness is still there. His mouth has never felt this dry. His ankle is red raw from pulling at that chain.

The smell of the rotting body next to him has been driving him nuts.

If Adam thinks on it too long, he starts to get scared of himself. He never thought he was capable of… That. Not really.

He can’t count how long he’s been here, he has no way of knowing- he tried to count sleeps, but it gets harder every second to tell if his eyes are closed or not.

“When I get home, I’m leaving the lights on,” turned to “If I get home, I’m leaving the lights on,”

And eventually, it turned to “God, am I ever going home? Ever gonna get to see light?”

When Adam��s tired, weak eyes opened to the half lidded maximum he can manage now, for a second he didn’t believe it.

Light?

A torch?

SOMEONE.

His body would’ve shaken and crumbled if he tried to move, he knows that, so when the torch light beams straight into his ailing face he blinks as much as he can. It’s all he can do. The only way he can think to tell whoever it is that he’s alive.

He tries to talk but nothing comes out.

Maybe now he can go home. Maybe he’s saved. Maybe Lawrence sent someone.

Lawrence didn’t lie.

I can call Mom back. I can see my family. I can see Scott. I can see my partner.

Lawrence didn’t lie.

The person with the torch steps closer, and Adam tries so, so hard to keep himself conscious.

I can sleep in a real bed- I can sleep holding Y/N. Y/N would keep me safe, right? Yeah, they would. Y/N'd protect me. I can see them again, God, I can see them again.

Lawrence didn’t lie.

I can see the sun, again. What season is it now? Is it still fall? Would there be snow now?

"Adam? ...Adam?" The voice whispers, and it's definitely not Lawrence but that's fine because someone came and they're going to help.

Adam feels her put a hand near his face, and every ounce of energy in his exhausted body goes into moving his head- making some sort of sound (all he can muster is a wheeze).

I can go anywhere but this room. Anywhere that doesnt feel like this... Heavy. Dank. Dark.

Lawrence didn’t lie. He didn’t leave me here for dead. I’m going to be okay. He’s back, or he sent someone- I’m going to be okay!

The person is moving him now, his lungs swell with a buzzy, relieved feeling.

"I'm gonna help you,'"

Oh, thank God- I’m going t-

[desireunleash]

hi everyone! it's jen, back at it again since i always come around with a long, heartfelt "end of the year" wrap up! i just gotta be there. i hadn't had the time to come up with an actual heart-to-heart message this year, so i would like to share something else with you guys instead (aka my personal ending ment hehe) i hope this finds you all well! 🩵

a message for the upcoming year - "if you knock on a door and it remains closed, it means there is nothing behind it. theres no magical, mysterious, alternative life you are being denied. there is nothing you are missing out on. what you are grieving is an idea of what might have been. if you feel you have spent too much of your life in disappointment and regret, perhaps is that you have tried to turn too many dead ends into pathways, empty rooms into more than they were ever intended to be. if you knock on a door and it remains closed, it means that the path is unfolding somewhere else, and you're now one step closer to finding it. it is not your dreams that must be released, but your sense of posibility that must be awakened."

another one goes... "if today was difficult for you, i hope you know that tomorrow can be better, i hope you know that the moments that are uncomfortable or hurt or dont make sense will pass. i hope you remind yourself of all the times you didnt think you were going to feel better but you did. as you go through your days, remember that every moment is just a moment.

when you cant take it one day at a time, try to take it one breath at a time, take really good care of yourself and know that it's okay if you don't accomplish everything you told yourself you needed to today. you dont have to start a new routine or healthy habit today if it feels like too much. you dont have to be as productive as the people that you see everywhere. your life is yours and you only have this one. tomorrow it will feel a little bit better. and then better. and then better. you are safe. you will have everything that you need."

and finally, before the next 12 months begin, here's your checkpoint - if you're carrying a weight that doesnt belong to you, it's time to release it. forgive yourself for those lessons that were learned a little too late. you're human, navigating a path that's both complex and beautiful. embrance the wisdom you gained, even if it came at a cost. remember, growth knows no timeline and you're exactly where you need to be.

your timing is yours alone, nobody else's!

@hyunpic ♡ @shorelinnes ♡ @xiaoxiongmaos ♡ @choibeomggyu ♡ @yeonjune ♡ @choi-soobin ♡ @heelicopter ♡ @minhosblr ♡ @innielove ♡ @crazy-form ♡ @facethesuns ♡ @dokyeomis ♡ @moonsua ♡ @hooned ♡ @lveclouds ♡ @exocean ♡ @dowoonyoon ♡ @bcomgyu ♡ @seungkwan-s ♡ @xiaojuun ♡ @usertae ♡ @bestleader ♡ @yutito ♡ @tmpttion ♡ @dykeyeonjun ♡ @wayvmp3 ♡ @oddinarys ♡ @woozis ♡ @jeonwonwoo ♡ @tbzuyeon ♡ @twiceland ♡ @soujisetas ♡ @yeonbins ♡ @heesungs ♡ @ddominho ♡ @isitstraightvodka ♡ @euphhorias ♡ @beomieblr ♡ @gyusgal ♡ @jaeyuned ♡ @5oobin ♡ @hueningkai ♡ @pookiez ♡ @waketoearth ♡ @deerseungs

to my cosmos (bc who am I if not the one who writes a bunch of words to yall lol):

🍜🐕 chesca: you are NOT at all the mean words stuck at the back of your mind. no way! you're as pretty as the flowers, the water, the weather, (specially the ORANGE SHADES) in each of those monet's paintings. with that, art might not be everyone's cup of tea, sure, but is still ARTWORK for a reason. you're not behind on anyone, you don't need to rush, to keep up, i've told you this before, so please... take great care of yourself. i want you to be as proud of yourself one day as i am on the daily. one day that will turn into everyday. you will get there, you will be your greatest inspiration one day.

🌻 sun: of all the things i wish to tell you, felix wrapped it all in one go: just take your time, if you want to take a break, take a break. dont force yourself to do something. if you feel tired or if it's too hard for you, no need to stress. you still have time. every single person is good at something. you still have so much time. this is your checkpoint: tend to your wounds, let them heal, if it hurts too bad, i'll help you bandage them til you are good to go. i promise!

🐱 maja: as a grand poet (lee know) once said: "no matter how you look at the sky, it is still blue. when it rains it turns gray. there are also times when it's dark but above the clouds, it's still blue. it'll all be over soon, it's just an extra headache if you worry about it". you will be alright! and yes, even if that one issue (or a few issues) is still weighing down in your heart a little, it's just a bigger cloud. the bluest of skies will still be there, for you, and so will i!

🎨 agnes: i wish i could just cup your face with my hands and yell at you about all the necessary things you need to remind yourself. for now, here goes something: "you are not meant to be ornamental, you are meant to be a person. that means taking up space and being loud and standing up for your needs (and sometimes wants) and being inconvenient because that's what people are." 100 becomes 99 if a number is missing, the set will never be whole without that 1 number to it. the space will be there for it to take up, bc 1 belongs there. much like us, much like the world. so please, just allow yourself to be.

finally - to all of you beautiful people, if you guys must, just take a moment to yourselves, to reflect upon everything. love is such a beautiful and messy thing, but when it comes to the end of that line, what are we if not love personified? whenever i write these, know that i am speaking to you all specifically, heart to heart. i dont know about the rest of the world, but I know about my friend-tuals. you guys deserve the world, i dont care what anyone says, you. deserve. peace. so rest well, we got another 12 months ahead! among such violent ends, you are bound to be a wonderful start.

i hate goodbyes, but if it means opening up space for a better something, i'm willing to bid farewell for a change. so much has happened, which makes me think... what a privilege it is to be able to still be here, able to use words to reach out to you all. thank you to everyone on this list. we will all be okay, eventually. we will be okay! let's meet again soon, and then again and again and again. i love you guys so so much. happy new years!!! 🎉

[blindrapture]

MONDAY MAY 23RD, 2011 (Donnie)

4:07 PM Far off the border from misagony and order, Mankind prepares a dance. No soldier wins when the inferno begins, No artist leaves his trance. I need an escape, I need an escape now. God, I never get tired of that song. “The Inferno Begins,” Sunsetters. Track one of Summer Sucks, beautiful rock opera. ..wait a minute. I’m actually hearing this. Someone’s playing my prog. … MOTHERFUCKER ZOMBIE IN MY ROOM HE WAS LISTENING TO MY CDS WHAT THE FUCK Godfuckingdammit, how long have I been out of it?! My barricades mustn't be working if zombies can get in, hang on let me deal with this

4:09 PM There, rooting through the kitchen YOU’RE NOT A ZOMBIE YOU’RE A GIRL “I’m so sorry, hi, I’m sorry for waking you, please don’t hurt me!” I’m not gonna hurt you! Wow! Whoa! Uh! …let me put this guitar down! “I’m really sorry for waking you. I was just looking for some food when I found your music collection. You were all curled up, so I assumed you were dead or.. or something.” It’s okay! Yeah, I have a pretty big collection. ^^; ..so yes. Where are my manners? Hello. I’m Jordan. “Donnivan.” Charmed. :D You can help yourself to my food. I don’t know where my parents are; I think it’s just you and me here. So yeah. Help yourself. “Thank you…” You don’t happen to know what’s up with the whole…… “No. No, it’s all a mystery to me too. Sorry.” It’s okay. Here, let me.. let me show you where the sausage rolls are!

4:16 PM munch munch "What are you writing? If you don't mind me asking." Oh, it's just.. a journal I've been keeping. ^^; Ever since Saturday. I'm not normally one for them, but it's helped me stay focused on things. You don't mind if I include you in here, do you? o_o;; "No, not at all!" inches closer "What kinda stuff are you writing about me?" Just the conversation. "May I see?" Sure.

4:17 PM She handed it back quick. Said she can't read my handwriting.

5:30 PM We fortified the barricades, house should be secure now, then we remarked at how electricity still works and decided to watch a film. Donnivan's really cute. .w. Tall, slim, long red hair, I rather hope she stays with me. Now we're talking about our experiences.

7:44 PM Her mum brought her along to a pub, hoping it would be safe enough, but then when Donnivan went to the bathroom, she came back to find her mother gone and a Big One crawling away down the street outside. She spent a day in shock and, after gathering her composure, started looking for food. That's her story, in so few words. I told her mine too. She doesn't recognize the weird.. rabbit hole places I went to. Then I told her about my dream. I had it after dealing with the Rake, all the way through 'til she woke me up. A lot of the dream escapes me already, but one of the more prominent images in my mind was this.. thing where I fell into a copier, a giant planet-sized copier, and lots and lots of copies of me came out, only they weren't perfect, they were all more like snapshots of me, two-dimensional pieces that hinted at the Jordan I really am but weren't. There was some kinda dreamy implication that the snapshots would grow into their own things until they no longer resemble me (maybe until Iresemble them?), and then the dream went down the usual route of faint sensations and wordless conversations. There was also this other part later on, where I was running to get away from some vaguely dangerous.. lab except it wasn't a lab but a maze that only superficially resembled a lab, when next thing I know I'm stepping into a black-and-white corridor of doors and out of one at the far end steps a taller me covered in blood, a mirror figure filled with deepest dread and unholy responsibilities. He showed up more in my dream until I finally get close enough to touch him, and I grab his face and rip it off and it's a mask and behind it was my dad. And that was that. It stuck in my mind, I dunno.

8:22 PM She’s been in the bathroom a while. o_o Donnivan? Are you alright in there? ..she's crying. Hey, I'm here if you.. if you want to talk or something. "..do you promise you're there?" Absolutely. I'll still be here once you open that door. “It’s not fair. It can’t be. Nothing about this works out.” It’ll be okay, ma’am. This red sky thing won’t last long, just you watch. Why, my friends in America haven’t even noticed any strange red skies or anything, so that tells me this can’t be all that serious! ”..really?” Yes. :D Now c’mon. What do you say we walk down to Tesco and grab some chocolate milk or something? My treat.

11:00 PM Rapture is coming.

(Attached: "Paul Blackwood said, one gorgeous evening, that the sun will always set on that same Earth on which it rises. I had no idea what he meant then, but I think he was talking about me. I was always the least mature member of the band. I turned up late to practice-- sometimes to gigs. I racked up our tabs in every bar we played, even though I also got a lot of that beer specifically so I could smash the bottles over some asshole's head. I could hardly play drums for longer than half an hour without getting bored, which made a lot of our longer songs a chore live. I didn't do much in terms of songwriting when we started, hell I couldn't write at all, not in English. But after a while, sometime after we released Summer Sucks, all that came to a halt when my father died. No, rather my self-destructive tendencies went overboard, and I'm lucky I didn't do anything serious to myself or to others. What made it then come to a halt was when the lawyer told me my father had had a massive stack of personal notebooks hidden away this whole time, that his last will and testament was that I would be given them as one last gift to his only son. I cut off all contact with the band. I went into complete seclusion, in fact, for several weeks as I read through them. These journals here are pretty unrelated to them, but something about the whole thing brought that memory back to my mind.")

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[thegeminisage]

17, 22, 23, and 35 for the fic writer ask game?

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

oh man i hate to get stuck on wording, but i don't really believe in writer's block!! i wrote a whole post about it here but the short version is that i believe when you are having trouble writing, summing up the general trouble as "writer's block" just makes the problem harder to solve. it's always down to something specific: do i not know where to go next? am i lacking joy in the craft? is there a big intimidating restructure in my future? (there is literally one of these on both my wips currently. kill me) so, to actually answer the question instead of being pedantic, step number one is ALWAYS to figure out EXACTLY why i'm not feeling it. when you figure out what the problem is it's a LOT easier to come up with solutions.

the other thing i do is manage my soundscape. this includes music - i have adhd, so the "right" music, preferably songs i can loop 1000000 times without getting tired of them, will make or break my productivity to a ridiculous degree - but it also includes ambient sounds. i really like this website because you can make your own mixes, and they have a whole section dedicated to fandom-based ones folks have made: inside the tardis, driving the impala, inside the jedi temple, whatever. (they have similar fandom-related atmospheres for video games on youtube. here's one of my favorites.) making one sometimes veers into productive procrastination, but when i'm having trouble getting started (often the hardest part) it usually does the trick. fellow insomniacs - they're also great for falling asleep, lol.

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

not really. i don't have the same problem with first-person, for example, that a lot of other people seem to, and i like an excuse to do a different style or whatever. even things i don't normally read for, like non-con, is something i have written about happening in the past (not onscreen) when the situation calls for it. i have only two hard limits: omegaverse and aus. you won't catch me dead doing either one. i think the first is self-explanatory, but as to the latter: i think so much of characters is who they are and their history. when you write an au from the ground up - like, a flowershop au or whatever, as opposed to an au that just veers away from canon at some point - you are taking and rewriting that entire history, and those characters become different people, and my investment almost instantly tanks to zero. i know those people, i don't care about them, and i don't want to write them. i don't even read aus unless it's from an author whose fic i absolute die over...right now, i could count those authors on one hand, lol. fusion aus are a bit of a gray area if i like both properties in question. i did once outline a titanic au for [redacted fandom] and also an anastasia au for bbc merlin*. but that's because i like both the movie anastasia and the characters from merlin. and even then, it's only a tumblr post to exorcise it from my brain - it's never something i'd turn into an actual fic.

23. Best writing advice for other writers?

YOU MUST HAVE FUN. you must you must you MUST have fun. do not do the thing if you do not love to do it. if you do not feel joy when creating then it will come through in the work, like a cranky cook burning their food. if you are writing only for comments: don't. if you are writing because you think you will let down friends/readers/etc otherwise: don't. "write for yourself" doesn't mean don't share work it means write because it makes you happier, or because you'll die if you don't. DON'T DO IT if it doesn't bring you joy!!!!!

35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?

two things. i'm cheating a little sorry. the first thing is pretty simple and common villain advice: remember that in your villain's pov they are the hero, or at the very least are justified. very few good, well-rounded villains are out here twirling their mustaches and being evil for the sake of evil.

the second thing is DO NOT make your protagonists less competent in order to make your villain seem more scary. this will backfire on you every fucking time. if you want your villain to seem smarter and stronger you cannot simply just make your protagonists dumber and weaker. otherwise they look like out-of-character idiots. consider the character of theo in teen wolf's fifth season...regardless of how you feel about the character, especially in other seasons, it's hard to argue his introductory arc was well-structured. in just a few short episodes, he managed to break years-long bonds between established characters...because the writers decided to make those characters mistrustful and misunderstanding of each other for no reason. instead of ANY of these characters using their brains or believing their good friends, they all acted exactly as theo predicted BECAUSE the writers wanted theo to seem smart and good at manipulating people. but it's definitely NOT how those guys would have acted if they were real people, and theo certainly didn't manage to trick us, the audience - so they just look like morons, instead. (this is why season 5 is the worst season by the way.) never do this. figure out what your characters would do first and THEN use your godlike powers to come up with a way to manipulate them. you're in charge of this thing after all!!!

[ASK MEME]

*i looked really, really hard for this, for over an HOUR, but i can't find it :( essentially arthur plays the anya, merlin the dmitri, morgana the grandmama, and gwen the vlad. it's not a unique concept bc i found other people spinning the idea in less detail on tumblr when i googled it, but i can't find MY DETAILED WRITEUP and i'm mad about it lol. if anyone writes one link me to it. if anyone finds it on my blog on god i'll write you a less than 1k merlin drabble of your choice. hold me to it.

[clockworkowl]

I was searching through the mess of randomness that is the notes app on my work computer and came across the introductory backstory I'd written for the time when the 'culture club' thought it would be fun to have a conference call where everyone was dressed up like superheroes (which, of course, was going to overcome my natural cynicism of workplace 'fun' activities, because any day I can dress with the abandon of a 5-year old with free reign of a Children's Museum's costume shop knowing that I have a free-pass from ridicule, is a day I'm going to take advantage of.)

In hopes of luring in participation from people who didn't have a random collection of Batman and/or Marvel masks lying around their homes (which a surprising number of coworkers did actually happen to just have at the ready in case Disney or Commissioner Gordan needed them to step in.) or at least to have something to do their judging event on that wasn't throwing a dart at a board of a bunch of dudes in the same batman mask to decide on 'best costume', they created a category for 'create your own superhero or super-villain' which allowed you to dress up as your creation and wear whatever (including your normal clothes claiming you were in your Kentian mild-mannered disguise ) and be able to snag honours so long as you prepared a backstory and description of the character.

This is my true wheelhouse. I never seem to have the motivation or attention span to write actual prose anymore, but I can lose hours in spinning an elaborate backstory like nothing else because it's all ideas and fragments. In middle school and high school whenever I would get stuck cast in those 'impatient woman in elevator' roles so the department head could make sure the acting part wouldn't get in the way of making me do double duty as props and assistant director; I used to create enormous backstories for that character and how they invisibly wove through the plot of the show to reach those 30 seconds of overlap with the lead characters. (This is probably why Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is one of my favourite plays; because firstly, it's fucking brilliant, and secondly it felt like it vindicated the maybe over-the-top thing I just always did on my own, that most of my drama club friends sort of rolled their eyes at.)

This is also all just a long-winded intro to where I just wanted to post the little character intro monologue I'd written to justify wanting to wear an eye patch, a ww2 nurse's cape, cyberpunkish mid-calf leather boots, and a random blonde wig for the day. (And I am kind of proud that I got that far lore-wise in maybe 2 hours tops, though I do admit that I completely leaned on a Tumblr post (which I should find so I can credit whoever is responsible for that writing prompt) about what if everyone has superpowers, but they had to be unique so yours is probably not very useful, as a total jumping off point.) It's also probably because it's been a while since I wrote it and seeing it again I found myself kind of like, 'oh that could actually be interesting to actually do something with.' and usually when I find old stuff like that I'm just like 'why did the me of whenever I coughed this out think this was good?'

So anyway the character (and of course, I chose not super-hero, not super-villain, but secret third thing, super-cynical-and-super-tired-of-everyone's-bullshit-mercenary+powers) monologue which can now only be disappointing because the lead in is too long.

___________________________________________________

They call me Hiniku Kijo.

This world is one where, sure everyone has a super power, but since only one person at a time can have any given power, most people have lame ones and society is stratified by the perceived value of the one you ‘inherit’.

I used to be one of the ‘good guys’, using my ability to read any enemy’s next planned move by merely looking at them to advise troops in the war on ‘evil’.

But then, someone tried to kill me with a cursed dagger for my powers. I lost an eye, and they got to ‘inherit’ my ability, which was obviously not that reliable in hindsight given the whole assassination thing I walked right into. But, I gained the ability to pass freely between the underworld and our world and to see with a glance the most efficient way to destroy a foe. 

As for the ‘good guys’? Well, my would-be assassin is their golden boy. And I’m not interested in swearing up with that bunch of overcompensating ego-maniacs in the villain league. So I guess that makes me… a free agent, out to put an end to them both.  

[clouds-rambles]

Hey bestie may I request diluc,childe,zhongli,and venti having a bad nightmare over their s/o wanting to break up with them and when they wake up their s/o isn’t there but really they’re in another room or something if that makes sense!! Thank you 🤑

Hi bestie positively evil... i love it <3 nobody question why zhongli and the reader are married in all my headcanons thanks lmao

Pairings; (Seperate) Diluc, Childe, Zhongli, and Venti x reader

Warning(s); panic, nightmares, hurt/comfort, injury mention

Keep reading under the cut!

Diluc

Diluc wakes with a start, his brows furrowed as he takes a moment to arrange the events of his nightmare in his head

Both you and he had a particularly explosive argument after he had come back injured from a night protecting Mondstat 

You had left the winery after exclaiming that you refuse to date someone who has such a lack of regard for his own life. In the long run you’d be saving yourself from further heartbreak if he ended up dead on the front porch

Diluc wonders if dream you could be right...

The red-head finally notices the cold side of the bed you should be sleeping on. He more than remembers going to sleep with you

Panic sets in at the bottom of Dilucs stomach. He must be imagining things right? You’re probably just in the bathroom

A beat passes

Then three

No, you’re not in the bathroom. He would have heard you by now...

What if the dream was actually what had happened last night. A breath catches in the mans throat as he gets out of bed and throws a shirt on

If he couldn’t find you in his home has he truly lost you?

Diluc speedily walks through the halls of his home, checking the spare rooms, the study, the library, the living room, the dining room, the

Diluc opens the door to the kitchen his heart threatening to break out of his chest at the pace it’s beating when he finally spots you drinking a cup of tea, in your pajamas

Thank the archons it was just a dream

“Diluc, honey, are you okay?” you ask getting up from the table in the kitchen to your sweating, hyperventilating partner

Diluc says nothing but opts to hugging you, his head bowing to your chest as he breaths you in

“Diluc, you’re worrying me” you tell him returning his embrace and rubbing circles on his back

“You weren’t in bed” is all he offers to tell you. You don’t push him on the details of why he is so panicked

“I couldn’t sleep so I came down for a herbal tea” you explain kissing the man on his bed of fluffy hair “I have a cup left in the kettle, I can pour one out for you” you offer

“Please” he breathes, but doesn’t move to let you go from the embrace, you can stand to hold him and tell him sweet nothings for a little while. Tea can always be reheated

Childe

It would only be right, and he suspected as much. You had told him that because of what has recently transpired in Liyue you cannot find yourself to love a brutal harbinger

Maybe its for the best. Childe concludes not paying much attention to his weeping heart. Maybe, you’d be happier not to be under the constant eye and scrutiny of the Qixing, the Milleth, and the watchful eye of Childes own fatui informants

Without much pause form Childes last thought the man finds himself waking in his room, unsure if the dream was reality or his mind playing tricks on him, he feels your side of the bed and notices a distinct lack of warmth... and you

He cries

Childe curls himself up in a ball determined to not get caught by anyone showing such an extreme and out of character emotion, he let himself cry. He’s pretty sure he’s sobbing loudly but he doesn’t care. It’s just him in the house anyway. The one person that he doesn’t mind seeing such emotions has left him

That’s until he hears the distinct click of the bedroom door open “Oh my archon Childe, are you okay?” you ask quickly making your way to the side of his bed and placing a hand on his shoulder

The man looks up to you, he isn’t sure if you’re real 

“I thought-” he starts “I had a-” he tries to find his words without seeming like a crazed person “You weren’t-” 

“It’s okay babe, I’m right here. I’m not planning on going anywhere” you console “I just had an epiphany in my dream and I had to write it down” you add explaining your absence. Childe nods along 

“Stay” he tells you as you wipe the tears out of his eyes. You nod and hum

“Of course” you lay onto the bed and let Childe wrap himself around you

You hum him to sleep and whisper sweet nothings

Zhongli

‘I can’t love you anymore Zhongli, I feel obligated to come back to Liyue after every adventure, it’s starting to take a toll on me’

‘But our vows, [name] we made a contract at the altar’

‘To love each other, yes? Zhongli there’s no love left in this marriage, you sleep in the spare bedroom whenever I’m back, we sit in silence over dinner, I don’t think I’ve kissed you in months. The lack of love itself is the breach in the contract’

‘But I-’

‘Think about it, do you really feel the same love that you felt on the day we got married?’

‘[name]-’

Zhongli wakes up with a start, his heart beats a little fast for a second. The man convinces himself it’s just a dream he had, but the coldness of your side of the bed seems to speak otherwise

In all fairness, Zhongli should have rationalised his dream before he started wondering the house like a mad man. The only time he sleeps in the other bed is when you’ve suffered an extreme injury, dinners are often spent with jolly laughs and conversation. And Zhongli prides himself on the amount of affection he gives you around the house... and in the bedroom

But most things aren’t making sense in his head right now

“Zhongli my love” you call him upon noticing him in the hall. You had just come out of the bathroom after a midnight toilet break “Are you okay darling?” you ask placing a hand on his shoulder

The tenseness in Zhongli’s shoulders dissipate as soon as you initiate the touch

“I love you” he tells you, the declaration is out of nowhere to you. But you smile at him and embrace him

“And I love you too” you pause bringing up your hand baring the ring that sits on it “And this ring is a reminder of our vows and my unyielding love to you” you tell him with a smile

Zhongli chuckles at you and returns your hug “You seem to always know how to comfort me my dear”

“It’s because I’m a mind reader” you jest matching your spouses chuckle

Venti

Disappeared. So much so that the thousand winds could tell Venti that you were in fact not in Mondstat and had travelled to Liyue from the time Venti was playing music in the tavern to when he knocked for you early the next morning

The only trace you left was a letter. Unmistakeably written by your hand

‘Venti, writing this in a letter is much easier than saying this to your face. I am quite simply tired of your antics, no matter try to talk to you, you seem to always brush me off. Be it the nights you spend at the tavern, my general concern when you disappear for days at end just to tell me you were at the thousand winds temple, stormterrors lair, or windrise, no matter how much I tell you I checked all three. Being in a constant state of concern isn’t good for me, it’s emotionally draining and I’m terrified of finding you dead somewhere, despite your archon blood. By the time you read this I’ll be in Liyue where I’ll be staying with a friend for a while. Tell me I’m going somewhere you can’t follow, and I’ll tell you this is how I have felt many a night. I wish I could have kept loving you, [name]’

A harsh way to break up Venti admits to himself rereading the paper a few times before waking up

A dream?

Venti holds his chest, surely a dream couldn’t conjure such a horrific sinking feeling that makes him want to just vomit

Looking to your side of the bed for your comfort the sinking feeling intensifies when he doesn’t see you

So it wasn’t a dream? Venti doesn’t want to call on his kin, the thousand winds, again just to be told once more that you’re currently in Liyue sipping tea with this cousin you had mentioned in the letter 

The archon sits up in bed and takes deep breaths, he doesn’t want to explain to anybody that he had a panic attack over your horrific breakup letter, no no

After calming his breaths Venti steps out of bed with a shaky few steps before walking downstairs to engage in the typical breakout routine. Snacking. Maybe when you left you had elected to ignore some of the snacks you love to litter about your abode

When Venti walks in to the living room towards the kitchen he sees you nursing your head on the couch

“[name]?” he asks in almost disbelief

“Hm,” you answer before looking up to Venti “Oh hey love, sorry I’ve got a headache” you greet properly after a moment. Venti grins at you which causes you to tilt your head. Why is your headache so grin worthy? Weird...

“Would you like some paracetamol?” he asks walking beside you, you shake your head

“I just took some” you reply looking up at your partner “Though I’d love to rest my head on your thighs” you add. Venti more then obliges and settles down on the couch

“You know I had the strangest dream” Venti tells you after a prolonged amount of silence, you hum to let him know you’re listening “You left me” he says bluntly

Oh

Damn

You bring yourself up to Venti’s face with a smile and give him a kiss “I love you Venti, I wouldn’t leave you for even the prettiest lyre” you half console half jest

“That’s because the prettiest lyre is mine” Venti chuckles and you nod pressing another kiss to Venti’s lips

guys it’s 2.42am I’m so sorry if there’s grammatical errors, my brain isn’t catching up rn

[mcyt-peach]

Hi!! Can I please have a Mcyt reaction when you confess your feelings to him while drunk okay thank you!!! <333

(if you do jschlatt that would be amazing)

confessing to schlatt while sick

⋆｡˚ summary: after waking up sick, schlatt comes over to take care of you, leading to a confession in your feverish state

⋆｡˚ pairing: cc!schlatt x gn!reader

⋆｡˚ warnings: swearing, mentions of sickness and medicine, reader uses they/them pronouns

⋆｡˚ note: hi hi! writing about alcohol is actually against my boundaries but I thought this idea was cute so I changed it so reader is sort of delirious with a fever, as it's pretty similar to being drunk

maybe you should have told someone you weren’t feeling too good, let the world know you felt like shit the moment you woke up

based on your phone ringing off the hook, someone was clearly missing your presence

not that you could reach the phone, tangled up in your bedsheets, trying to decide if you were too hot or too cold

the constant pounding against your temples was enough to make you cry and all you wanted to do was sleep

luckily for you, the fever you were currently suffering from pretty much knocked you out for a couple of hours

Schlatt was surprised when you didn’t pick up his call, Saturday mornings were always spent eating breakfast on facetime or meeting up for coffee

he knew you would never blow him off, so he was also shocked when he was only met with silence after knocking on your door

slipping the spare key you gave him out of his pocket, he cursed under his breath

of course he was worried about you, but only the perfect, friend appropriate amount of worried

no, there were definitely no underlying feelings making him desperate to see you

cracking open the door, Schlatt stepped into your apartment

“Y/n? Are you here? I swear to the pope if you jump out and scare me I’m gonna kill you!”

once again, he pulled out his phone to call you, following the sound of ringing to your room

the door was wide open and he could see where your limbs stuck awkwardly out of the blankets on your bed

he stalled in the doorframe, conflicted on whether or not to enter

slipping off his boots, he padded into your room, shaking your shoulder to rouse you

your eyes were slow to open before you spoke in a scratchy tone

“Am I dead?”

“Nope, just one hell of a fever.” his hand was on your forehead, cooling your skin

pulling a blanket over your shoulders, you stood up on wobbly legs, leaning on Schlatt while he brought you to your couch

“Is it winter yet? I wanna see the snow...” your tired rambling made no sense and drifted off into confusing silence

clearly your fever was making you a bit delusional

Schlatt set you down on the couch, watching as you instantly slumped over, before turning to look for some meds

returning to the couch, he sits you up and gets you to gulp down some ibuprofen and water

at your insencent grabby hands, Schlatt sits down next to you, lifting his arms so you can climb onto his lap

“You know, I think you’re kind of a shithead for making me worry like this.”

his words are said with a chuckle and when he tucks his chin to look at you, well he’s lucky you’re too loopy to notice his blush

you’ve got a dopey smile painted on your face, staring up at him with your head resting against his shoulder

“I think I like you too much.” you whisper against his shirt, voice hoarse and light

tipping his head back to rest against the couch cushions, Schlatt lets out a big sigh

he runs his hand down his face, staring at the ceiling

“Yeah, I like you too.”

[suna-reversed]

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader 

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie,  or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness] 

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same. 

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin. 

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher, 

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself, 

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him” 

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about. 

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out. 

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string. 

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes. 

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’ 

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened. 

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse 

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face. 

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something, 

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt. 

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance. 

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing? 

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis. 

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting. 

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was  a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?” 

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

 - “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”- 

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far. 

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. ���No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

[emwritesstuff]

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this.  (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

[rainbowfoxes]

I can normally deal with people not reading the comics, because not everyone has the means to or even the desire to, and that's okay! The cartoons and a lot of the shows are great, and I can typically adjust to the different continuities being referenced quick enough.

But the one thing that gets me every time in fics written by people who aren't familiar with the comics is the timeline. It is always incredibly wonky and all over the place and just. Incorrect. Sometimes it makes me laugh, sometimes it makes me 🙃, and others I have to leave right now immediately.

So in the interest of saving myself (and perhaps others) a ???? reaction in the future, here is a (very) rough and non-exhaustive order of events for the Bat Clan. The time between these events are variable, but this is the general order of things.

Thomas and Martha Wayne are murdered

Bruce goes on his training trip

Bruce comes back and begins his whole I Am The Night shtick

The Grayson family is murdered

Bruce fosters Dick

Dick debuts as Robin

Justice League/ Super Friends/ whatever group is formed

Dick forms the Teen Titans with Donna, Garth, Roy, and Wally.

Dick leaves Gotham (either for college, or because of an argument with Bruce)

Sometimes more Titans things happen. They also break up at some point

Raven forms the second iteration of the Teen Titans to fight her father. The team is comprised of Dick, Raven, Donna, Wally, Kori, Gar, and Vic.

Jason steals the tires off the Batmobile, thwarts his own grandmother's attempts at robbing a museum, and is adopted by Bruce. He is also made Robin - Note that oftentimes Dick is still Robin at this time as well.

Babs gets shot by the Joker for her dad and Bruce's man pain. She becomes Oracle as a result.

Jason and Bruce have a fight, and Jason goes to find his biological mother.

Jason is betrayed by his supposed mother and murdered by the Joker.

Tim shows up and does his "Batman needs Robin" Thing.

Jason crawls himself out of his grave and promptly gets hit by a car. Don't worry, we'll check in with him later.

Tim's mom is murdered and his father left in a coma that he eventually recovers from.

Knightfall happens - Bane breaks Bruce's back, Jean-Paul Valley is Batman for a minute and so is Dick.

Contagion happens - some dumbass releases a super plague on the city but it's okay because they make a vaccine that everyone gets because it's 1996 and no one has given Jenny McCarthy the opportunity to start the Anti-Vax movement yet.

Legacy happens - It's break through cases this time but don't worry, they fix it because this is comic books and people have two braincells to rub together.

Dick goes to Blüdhaven!!! This is the big one for me tbh. Please stop putting him in the Blüd while Jason is alive, I beg of you. You're killing me.

Cataclysm happens - a massive earthquake hits Gotham, and it is Very Bad. The US government decides to abandon the city and kill anyone trying to leave or enter after a certain date. Because that's an entirely reasonable thing to do. This leads to.....

No Mans Land - the approximate year that the city was cut off from the rest of the country. Lots of shit happens during this time - Cassandra Cain debuts, Stephanie Brown has her baby, Tim goes to boarding school, Sarah Essen-Gordon dies. If there is the only one comic book arc you read, please let it be this one.

Bruce is framed for the murder of Vesper Fairchild - not really important in the grand scheme of things but I love Vesper and you should too.

Hush happens - basically Tommy Elliot has Problems and also Jason shows up but not really but yest really (hi thank you retcons). It's a thing. Read the wikipedia page it's actually very helpful.

Tim's dad finds out that he's Robin and forces him to retire.

The next couple of things happen right on top of each other so - Blockbuster sets fire to Haly's circus and blows up Dick's apartment building and a bunch of other bad things. Tarantula kills Blockbuster and rapes Dick while he's in shock.

Immediately afterwards War Games starts - Steph starts a gang war to prove her worth to Bruce, gets murdered but not really by Black Mask, it's a whole thing.

Side bar - why did no one warn me about Black Mask killing Orpheus - a Black vigilante - and then impersonating him with full Blackface? Everyone talks about what he did to Steph but I really think we need to talk about what he did to Orpheus. Also if you haven't read War Games yet, here are some accurate trigger warnings for it: blackface, sexualized murder of a teenaged girl, a school shooting where a child dies.

Tim comes back as Robin.

Under the Red Hood happens - Jason comes back to Gotham, kills some guys, tries to kill Tim, does his whole Thing. You've probably seen the movie but I also recommend you read the comics it's v good and every time I read Jason's final speech I start crying.

Damian shows up

Final Crisis happens and Bruce "dies" aka gets lost in time, so the boys duke it out over who gets to be Batman. Tim goes on his murder mystery tour. Jason goes to prison but not before adopting a weird little girl named Sasha. Dick is left with Batman.

Oops turns out Steph isn't dead she's back and she's Batgirl now and low-key co-parenting Damian with Dick. It's very cute.

Cass is off being Black Bat in Hong Kong and I miss her.

Bruce comes back, Tim is Vindicated, Jason escapes prison and rides off into the sunset with Sasha to go Cause Problems on Purpose. Dick steps down from Batman. Damian continues to be a murder baby and I love him.

And that's not nearly everything but close enough for fic writing purposes up until Flashpoint. I definitely missed things, so feel free to add on. I also again beg you - please stop putting Dick in the Blüd when Jason is still alive, it makes my blood pressure spike every time I see it. You're killing me guys. Pls.

[ms-starflower]

Young Survivors — Maribat

It’s almost four am here, I just finished writing this and am just tired enough to actually go through and post it. And this title is the only thing my tired brain could come up with. Anyway. I haven't posted something I wrote in years, but all the Maribat I’ve read recently made me want to write something for it.

I don’t know if I’m ever going to write a 2 part, but if I do it’s definitely going to be Timari and contain a couple of typical Maribat tropes. And a pinch of salt.

Also, disclaimer: I haven't watched Miraculous in years and most of my DC knowlege come from fanfic or tumblr so... sorry not sorry.

Now with a part 2!

Next >

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

Mei Leyton’s oldest memories were of her mother, dolled up in pretty dresses and elegant makeup. In her daughter‘s eyes, Margaret Leyton was the most beautiful woman on earth.

For as long as she could remember, Mei would sit on the bed and watch as her mom would get ready to head to work. She had always loved those moments with her mom.

(How do I look, my little flower,” she said, twirling around Mei with a grin, making her laugh. It was Margaret’s favorite dress, a vintage halter blue dress with white accents and a white bow around the waist.

“Like a princess, mommy! The prettiest princess ever!”

“Oh no, no no no. You are the prettiest princess ever, my little flower.”)

She was four when her mother let her help for the first time, letting her pass along brushes and products. It’s then that she understood what were the purple marks on her mother that she covered with her makeup.

(“Life is not fair to us, my little flower,” she had said when Mei asked about it for the first time. “Being an orphan and pretty little girl in Gotham isn’t safe, and it doesn’t give much choice when it comes to survival.”

Mei didn’t understand then, but it didn’t matter anyway, life would make her understand soon enough.)

When Mei was seven, the GCPD found her mother’s body.

When she didn’t see her that morning, Mei hadn’t been worried; it wasn’t the first time. Mom would be home by noon, she always was. Until that day.

(The investigation wouldn’t get very far, it was just another prostitute of Camellia street, nobody cared about them. They were just there until they weren’t anymore.

Another girl would take her place in a couple of days. It was how those kinds of things worked in Gotham.)

That day was kind of blurry in her memory. She remembers being pulled out of class in the morning, and that the cop that told her about her mother’s death was very rude.

(“Your mom is dead, kid. A lad found her body in a dumpster this morning,” the guy had said as soon as she had sat down in the headmistress’ office. “Do you know who she worked for? Or on what side of the Camellia she stayed?” He had asked, halfheartedly.

Mei had shaken her head, even though she did; you don’t talk to cops in Gotham, mom always says said that it was the easiest way to get yourself killed, for people like them.

“Alright,” he had said, not surprised. “A social worker is going to pick you up in a bit to take you to your new home, kid.”

With that he had walked out of the office, not looking back. As if where she would end up was going to be home.)

She remembers that the social worker from CPS was a brunette with tan skin, and looked really overworked, but had a kind smile.

By the end of the day, she was taken to Elliot's Hall for Children, an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage with more kids than they could realistically care for.

(They don’t care for the children, they just put them there for a while and act as they do. Most children leave after a couple of days, and if they don’t, they get taken anyway.

Some come back with a police escort, some manage to survive in the streets, and nobody talks about the ones that are never seen again.

You don’t work there because you love children, and if you do, you don’t last for very long.)

Mei wasn’t stupid, her mother told her stories about those kinds of places. She came from those kinds of places, and Mei saw how the man in charge here had looked at her when the social worker dropped her off.

She wasn’t going to just stand here and wait for him to sell her back in Camellia street. Or worse, to the Candy Dealers.

Taking with her what she absolutely couldn’t leave behind, Mei made a choice her mother hadn’t been able to and took her chance with the streets.

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

Mei was a Camellia kid and, as such, took to the streets easier than most newcomers. She had picked up a few tricks from her aunties and her mom, and it helped her to survive out here.

The only (glaring) differences were the absence of her mother, the lack of a permanent roof above her head, and the fact that she had to provide food and money herself now.

(One of her favorite places to pick up wallets was Gotham Academy, where Gotham’s rich send their children. The kids always had money on them, and it’s not like they would miss it.

Though she couldn’t go too many times in a row, not without risking being spotted and remembered.)

She had been on the streets for two months when she met Jason Todd; the boy who would become her family.

She heard him before she saw him, to be honest. It was an awful crashing noise coming from around the corner, and it made her look.

He was running like the devil was after him, and judging by how the cops running behind him were clutching their batons, she wasn’t that far from the truth.

The noises were because of a couple of trash cans the boy had spilled in their way to slow them down.

And he was coming her way.

Against her better judgment, she grabbed his arm when he passed in front of her, and pulled him behind her into her hideout. Quickly getting the plank of wood back in place, she put her hand on his mouth before he could say anything. With the dumpster in the alley, the entry was almost invisible from outside.

They stayed there as they heard the men pass in front of their hiding place, listening as they argued about where the boy could have disappeared before their voices faded completely.

They waited another couple of minutes before he removed the hand she still had on his mouth and crawled out of there.

“Thanks,” he muttered with a scowl. “I woulda’ve been just fine without help but… yeah, anyway.” Then he had started to walk in the direction he came from.

“Hey! Wait!” She said before she could think about it. “Are ya just gonna, like, go? Just like that?”

“Huh, yeah? What do ya want me to do?” He asked, looking back at her from above his shoulder without stopping his walk. “Stay to drink a cup of tea and talk about the weather?”

“Well.. no. But I just… I just wanna talk a bit, ya know?” She couldn’t really explain why she didn’t want him to leave yet, it’s not like he was the first street kid she had helped out. He just felt different, and somehow she knew he could become important to her.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed before turning his head back to look forward. “The streets are not some daycare for princesses who want to make friends, kid.”

“Kid— hey, dumbass, you’re, like, ten years old! You’re a kid too! And I’m not a princess, I can survive alone just fine!” Before she knew it, she was walking behind him, the weird feeling forgotten for the offence his comment created. He looked back at her with a frown, before choosing to ignore her. Not letting that deter her, she rambled at him about all the ways why she wasn’t a kid any more than him.

“I thought you could survive alone?” He said, talking over her, when he realized that she wasn’t going to let him be.

“I can.”

“So why are ya following me? Tryin’ to drive me crazy?”

“Well, no. It’s just... that I can do it doesn't mean I want to.”

“Look, kid,” he said, ignoring her protest and talking over her, again. “You should just go back to whatever orphanage you came from, there is probably some nice little family who's gonna pick you up. Then you could make all the friends you want.”

“Like people actually adopt kids in this city. This is Gotham, you dummy, not ‘Annie’. Some rich white guy isn’t going to come and pick up children from the streets to make them live the Grand life.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he growled out without pausing in his steps. “Still, you’re pretty enough, I’m sure some nice people would adopt you in a second if you let them.”

“Yeah, sure. Mom thought the same when she was a kid, and guess what? She started working on Camellia street when she was fourteen, but nobody asked her if she wanted to. Because she was pretty enough,” the little seven years old spat with venom, her eyes narrowed. The boy stopped walking, turning toward her with eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. “Her best friend wasn’t, but mom said that she had the prettiest green eyes ever. When they found her body, she didn’t have eyes anymore, because some rich person paid to have pretty green eyes.”

“I— I didn’t—” he stuttered, eyes wide. With his scowl gone he looked so much younger, and Mei’s anger subdued. He wasn’t that much older than her, just a couple of years, maybe three or four, after all.

“It’s… okay, I guess. It’s Gotham. I just thought we both would have more chances to survive if we helped each other out. And, ya know, the company wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, but when they resumed walking he slowed down enough to let her walk beside him without almost-running.

“Great! So, Annie, where are we going now?” She said with a beaming smile, bursting into laughter at his indignation and protest against the nickname.

(“Can’t you stop calling me Annie already?! I told you my name’s Jason!”

“Nope, Annie.”

“Well, then, that makes you Sandy, doesn't it? Ya do follow me around like a stray puppy.”

“I’m not a dog— wait, hold on a minute! I knew you saw the movie! You liar!”)

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

She was ten when her life was put upside down once again, in the worst of ways.

It took practically no time before Jason “Annie” Todd became her brother in all but blood, it took longer for Jason to admit it, and they spend almost three years surviving together, barring the occasional trip back to the Children's Houses.

Though, they always found each other a couple of days after they escaped from those places.

Sometimes, Jason would plan something that he needed to do alone. Because of course, he did.

(“It’s the best job, my plan is perfect. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be great Sandy!”

“Yeah, and why can’t I come?”

“It’s too dangerous! Plus, you need to stay here and keep our things safe!”

“Yeah, if you say so, Annie.”)

That day was one of those days.

He was gone for less than an hour when they found her.

The Candy Dealers.

Mei paled when she saw them, wearing their nice suits and overly sweet smile. They told her they were social workers, specializing in homeless children, and offered her a lollipop. Social workers in Gotham don’t give candy to the kids, even the nice ones, and she knew from her time in Camellia street that the lollipop was drugged.

(“Never, ever, take candy from a Candy Dealer, Mei. Do you understand me? Never,” her mother told her gravely. “They put bad stuff in them, and if you put it in your mouth, they will take you away from me. I couldn’t live without you in my life, my little flower.”)

She tried to run, even before the first one got his hand totally outstretched toward her. But her panic made her stumble, and she was no match for them.

She tried to kick, and scream, and bite, but soon she felt a pinch in her neck, and everything was black.

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

The next period of her life was one she tried very hard to forget. For months she was moved, her and dozens of other people, from containers to containers, warehouse to warehouse. Twice they were put in a boat, the containers staying closed for so long, the next time she saw the moonlight, it burned her eyes.

She quickly learned that it was pointless to try to escape (and that Jason wouldn’t come and save her).

Then, one night, the place they were at was illuminated with blue and red lights and the police sirens were so loud, they drowned everything else.

She didn’t let herself hope, though. (She did, she hoped so hard her chest hurt.)

They (probably) weren’t in Gotham anymore, but her childhood didn’t instill her much trust in the police.

They did get them out. And she learned that they were in Paris now. In France. (That was a long way from Gotham.)

There were twenty-seven other people with her in the container. Four of which were kids, and only one other was also an orphan. They weren’t placed together, though. Because the kid had family back where he came from. Unlike her. (She had Jason. He was her family, but they didn’t listen.)

The French social workers took a while to know what to do with her exactly, but they didn’t want to send her back to Gotham (why not? She wanted to go back and find Jason!). So, in the meantime, they placed her in a foster family—one without any other kid, as per her therapist's advice. (The therapist didn’t know anything. She said Gotham wasn’t good for her, but Jason was in Gotham.)

Funnily enough, it ended up being a more permanent solution than previously considered, because the foster parents, Tom and Sabine, quickly fell in love with the little girl.

Not before long, Mei Leyton became Marinette Dupain-Cheng. (They changed her name to give her a ‘new beginning’ because her therapist thought it would be good for her. She didn’t want to have a ‘new beginning', she wanted to go back, to find Jason, to be the Sandy to his Annie. She was Mei, the Camellia’s kid, Sandy, the street’s kid and it was enough for her. She didn’t want to be Marinette, the bakers’ kid.)

So, when Mei was first put into the care of the Dupain-Cheng household, she regularly tried to run away. It was unsurprisingly harder than in Gotham, though. Tom and Sabine were way more attentive than Elliot Hall’s staff ever was, and more than a third of her tentatives were folded even before she was past the front door.

It took her three months (and forty-three unsuccessful tentatives) before she finally accepted that there would be no way for her to go back to Gotham. (Not that she had known how she would manage to do that before, her plan never got that far.) It took another six months before Tom and Sabine trusted her enough to let her wander the neighborhood alone.

The first thing she did the day her ‘new parents’ let her go to the library alone was to get to a public computer, and look Jason up. She didn’t really think she would find anything when she typed Jason Todd and Gotham in Google that day (maybe an obituary). She definitely didn't think she would find her best friend (brother) on the covers of so many tabloids declaring that he was Bruce Wayne’s ward.

She didn’t know how she should feel about the fact that he proved her wrong and became some real-life Annie. She wanted to feel angry, or hurt. Even more so when she realised that Wayne adopted him not even a full week after her (kidnapping) departure from Gotham, but…

But seeing Jason in the pictures… He looked so angry. Angrier than she ever saw him. And hurt. There was hurt hidden in his expression. It was well hidden but she could see it. (She did that, she was the one that hurted him. He probably thought she left him. That she wasn’t any better than his deadbeat of a father and abandoned him. What if he hates her now, because she was gone for so long?)

She needed to go back to Gotham, find him, and explain everything. She needed to tell him she didn’t want to leave him behind, that he was her family, and that it would never change. But Tom and Sabine didn’t want to take her back there, not before she was older, because she wasn’t ready yet, they said.

She didn’t care, though. No matter how long it would take her, she was going to go back. So, she slowly started to act like the perfect little girl. She didn’t really change, she just stopped bringing up Gotham so much, started to help more often in the house and at the bakery, and started to call Tom and Sabine Papa and Maman. (It wasn’t real, at first. But then, they just crawled into her heart against her will and became family. They didn’t replace her Mom or Jason, though. Nobody ever will.)

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

She started to heal. Slowly, without even realising. She opened up to a couple of children at her school, made friends with Nino, and sort of Frenemies (more enemy than friend, though) with Chloé Bourgeois. She picked up hobbies like sewing and designing, baking with Tom, or learning various martial arts with Sabine.

But she didn’t forget, going back to Gotham was still her ultimate goal. Until the news reached her, when she was twelve.

Jason Todd was dead.

Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood, her Annie. Dead. Jason was dead.

She felt like a part of her died with him, reading the words but not really processing. She let herself drown in her grief, closing up to everyone around her. Surprisingly, Chloé was the one that made her react. Literally slapping her to make her come back from the dead. (Not entirely, though. Mei, the Gothamite part of her, stayed dead with Jason. Only Marinette, the nice little parisian, came back.)

“I don’t really know what’s up with you, Dupain-Cheng,” she had said while Marinette cradled her sore cheek, her faux-contempt badly hiding her worry. “But you need to put yourself together. Tormenting you is no fun if you don’t react to it, and people are too worried for you to be afraid of me. Don’t make me call daddy on you.”

“I…” She had started, only to stop herself. She had looked back at Nino and Kim, both of whom were looking at her with poorly concealed worry. “Yeah, sorry Chloé.”

She pulled herself out of the worst of it after that, at the obvious relief of the people around her. None of which even knew why she was in this state. She still cried herself to sleep most nights, and sometimes felt like someone gouged out her heart with their bare hands, but she also started to let herself think of the good times. Started to let herself feel the good things happening around her, in the present.

Then, she saved the life of an old man, found magic earrings and a bug-mouse-kwami in her room that told her that she needed to become a hero and save Paris.

She thought of her big brother, of how he would always protect her when someone tried to rob them. Hide her, before even thinking of himself, when the cops would chase them down, trying to bring them back to Elliot's Hall. Give her all the food when they couldn’t get enough for the both of them. How he was a hero. Her Hero. And, really, there was only one thing she could say to that.

“Tikki, spots on!”

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

So. That's it. That was fun. I'm going to sleep now, goodnight.

Btw, Jason's super plan that day was totaly to steal the Batmobile's tires.

[leviiattacks]

CASHIER LEVI AND LIKE THE READER IS THE CUSTOMER AND IT’S LIKE THEY HAVE A CRUSH ON EACHTOHER

author note :: honestly not my best at all..... like at all..... this was actually pretty good but the entire draft got deleted and i just lost all my effort but i felt bad for starting it and not completing it for anon so you may take whatever i have managed to salvage. i hope u enjoy it :’( i am extremely sick rn and yeah writing is the only break i am currently getting from anything :-) SO AGAIN I’ M SORRY ANON..... i may write a 10k + word fic on this though so i can redeem myself bc this is just disappointing 😭

word count :: 3.3k

every single thursday you stop by ackermart. maybe it’s because the day is convenient for you or perhaps it’s because of a certain cashier that works the evenings...

HAHA it’s got nothing to do with a cashier why would it have anything to do with a cashier? :-)

today is like any other. you walk through the fresh produce aisle then proceed to make your way towards the bakery section picking up a loaf of bread

it’s stupid, you know it is but... you think you’ve worked up enough courage to speak to him today!!

and who is him you may ask?

levi at till number four. his tired eyes always happen to pierce into yours and his calloused thumbs brush past your skin when you hand him your rewards card

levi is what his bright red name tag says and although he doesn’t look like a levi you’d like to think your crush isn’t stealing someone’s identity so you believe that it’s his real name

anxiously fiddling with your basket you’re beginning to think this was a horrible idea

the girl ahead of you is flirting up a storm with him and although he’s not reciprocating it by any means you still feel deterred

levi bags the last of her groceries and looks up at her when she asks for a way to contact him. he doesn’t look mad... just bored?

“ma’am. this is an ackermart i don’t think it’s appropriate you ask me for my number. the customer service line is listed on our website.”

the woman raises a brow looking completely flabbergasted. okay, if everything before this wasn’t a warning THIS sure was

she stomps off when she realises levi isn’t kidding and you think you’d feel bad for her maybe if she was more respectful about it

“next customer.” levi calls over his shoulder and you shuffle forward pretending to be engrossed in your phone

“cash or card?” he asks plainly.

you hear the BEEP of your groceries being scanned and think on it for a while before replying with “cash”

you’re clearly pretty good at your pretend to be totally into your phone act because levi tries to get your attention but you don’t hear what he has to say till the third time he repeats himself

but even then you’re still unsure what it is he’s said????

looking down you see his hand is stuck out in front of you and now you’re even more confused

faltering for a second you look at his palm and then speak

“um, i guess your hand is nice? it’s pretty big compared to the rest of you actually.”

“i was asking for your cash?” he says and now you look at his palms in mortification

gasping you yANK your hand into your purse as you laugh awkwardly fishing around to find your money

“oh, OH i knew that. just kidding!! i mean- i meant that thing about your hand?? but i thought it was- i funny? yes the joke funny? i’m-”

he leans back into his spinning chair and sighs contently. “you’re not making much sense peaches.”

“pe- peaches??” you repeat. no way you’ve heard that correct

levi lazily points at the abundance of the aforementioned fruit in your grocery bags

“you must love em.”

“i, well yeah i do like peaches but i also like...” um??? what food would make you look sophisticated and professional?

OH YEAH

“FRENCH CUISINE :-)!!!!” you say rather proudly

“...cool. i guess.” levi hands you your grocery bag which is basically an invitation asking for you to get out

he doesn’t seem mad but he’s definitely going to look back at this encounter and laugh his ass off at how stupid you are

hanging your head down low in embarrassment you make your way out towards your car

there’s always next time!! maybe you can practice in the mirror yeah that does sound like it would help!!!

okay so.

it is officially next time.

actually you never got the opportunity to practice in front of the mirror because you chickened out of looking like an idiot even if it was in the privacy of your own home

but!!! you did try to practice some cool pick up lines because who doesn’t like a good pickup line or two??

the two mini milk cartons in your hand and the pack of doughnuts you have tucked under your arm aren’t too heavy so you aren’t too worried about having to wait in the line

for some reason the guy in front of you keeps turning around and glancing at you as if you don’t even exist

you are not casper the ghost

also casper is a little boy and you definitely aren’t a little boy

finally after a good five minutes the man ahead of you is having his stuff scanned but he’s STILL doing it. even levi notices and gives him an odd look which borders annoyance and anger.

“can i pay for your groceries? maybe walk you to your car?” the stranger asks suddenly

so that’s what this is, he’s simply taken an interest in you

my god this is new but it is uncomfortable and you’d rather say no

“oh, i actually walked here and no thanks i can pay for my own. enjoy the rest of your day!!” you hope your white lie is enough to fool the man but instead of agreeing as any other person would he looks majorly deceived

“i saw you in the parking lot.” ok this is getting a bit too uncomfortable for your liking

“c’mon i’m offering to buy your shit too?”

his voice is raising and you’re not sure what exactly you can do but thankfully for you the manager steps in and takes him away before any more threats can be made

the man had taken up so much of your attention you almost forgot levi was even there until you turned back around

“do you want a member of staff to accompany you to your car? it’s getting dark out.” levi’s comment helps ease your nerves and you try to laugh off what just happened

“i’m good :-)” you say shaking a little. you’re unsure if it’s the cold or the fact you still haven’t completely calmed down

“you sure peaches?”

“i haven’t bought any peaches this time.”

“you’re still peaches to me.” your cheeks flush at his confidence

wait, maybe this is your chance. you’re the last person in his line and they’re closing up for the day so...

“could you walk me to my car?”

and to your surprise even before you can take back what you’ve said levi agrees

it stays like that for a while.

every thursday levi walks you to your car by the end of his shift, all the while the two of you exchange a few words together

like last week you asked him what his favourite colour was (he said purple) you’ve learnt about his hobbies (he’s a decent cook), you’ve even found out about some of his own personal problems. he had mentioned suffering with insomnia in passing.

to be honest each and every time he walks you to your car he has to notice that you begin to park further and further away from the front entrance. but if he does notice he doesn’t say a word about it

“is that all you’re checking out?” you ask with a cheeky grin plastered across your face

looking down at your new dress your lopsided grin is far from fading away any time soon. you especially picked this one out after asking levi what his favourite colour was last week

god. this is so embarrassing but never actually have you had a crush this huge

levi who’s sat behind the counter shoots you a look which almost seems to be on the verge of uninterested. he isn’t entertaining this at all or this is just his typical bored face, you can’t really tell

BUT..... you still have a huge crush on him and you aren’t one to give up this easily

for the record you don’t harass him or anything, just the occasional hint is thrown around but he’s either really dense or doesn’t care

his expression does you no favours, you can’t tell what he’s thinking half the time

“you’re always buying energy drinks... might want to cut down on those they’re no good for you.”

warmth blooms in your chest. he’s just saying it to make small talk but the fact he even thinks to bring that up has your heart fluttering

“i- well- yeah i will!! just have a few overdue essays to get over with :-)” twiddling your thumbs together you think that makes your nerves too obvious so you begin to scratch at the back of your neck

if anything is a dead give away it’s your constant neck scratching, thankfully levi hasn’t picked up on it

“so you wore purple today?” his eyes linger on the thin straps of your dress and you feel the goosebumps rise up onto your skin immediately

“oh yeahhhh-”

“did i tell you yellow was my favourite colour last week?” he asks holding up a neon yellow pack of crisps and for the first time you see him smile

he looks so ?!|>\€|^ pretty ?!/)/&

wait?? yellow??

“didn’t you say purple?”

“no?” he crosses his arms playfully over his chest thinking for a bit

“maybe i did but no it’s really yellow.” he says as he hands you your bag

nodding your head you smile “yeahhhh sure it is.”

damn, now you’re going to have to find a yellow dress just to make him revert back to purple because who even likes yellow?? that’s a deal breaker right there??

update

it’s been two weeks!!

and a yellow dress has been found and secured B-)

it’s been a pretty rough day at work and you need to desperately collect a pack of green tea and get going

you don’t know when exactly being a secretary meant you had to babysit your boss’ children but that’s what the last week has entailed

being made to work overtime to this extent has had an effect on you and you’re ready to head home as soon as you swing by ackermart

not seeing levi for a week made you a little :-( because to be honest he’s the highlight of your thursday evening BUT!! you’ll be able to see him today at least

walking in through the entrance you’re met with connie smiling right at you, he holds the door open for you and smile back greeting him

“so you didn’t come last week...?”

it’s weird for him to ask that, after all you don’t really speak to anyone here apart from levi, you’re surprised you’re enough of a regular to be known by name

“oh i didn’t think anyone would notice? but yeah i had to work overtime you know what boss’ are like.” groaning you crouch down and look at the pot noodles on display

“i didn’t notice it. boss man did.”

“boss man?” you ask feeling out of loop

“levi.” connie answers as he hops into the backroom

????

isn’t he just a cashier??

“you still look confused.” connie remarks as he heads back out with a cardboard box full of pringle’s tubes

“levi’s the boss man, this is his store. he literally only ever mans the cash register on thursday evening because of you.”

at that you start laughing because it makes no sense at all to you

there’s no way connie is being serious

“good one.” you say as you stand up with a chicken flavored noodle in your hand

“i’m not kidding?”

turning around you give him a skeptical look

he sighs and shakes his head.

“listen. me and the part timers are tired of making bets on when he’ll give you his number and i bet that it would happen today so if you could confess to each other that would be perfect!!!”

“who said i like-”

“anyone with a brain can tell you both like each other.” he’s rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head you begin to take him a little more seriously now

“i... did i make it that obvious??” you’re directly facing him trying to get out as much information as you can

“yeah. very. at least levi wasn’t as bold.”

“i think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick he definitely doesn’t like me.”

connie gives you an “are you fucking with me?” look and you look away trying to distract yourself with the the canned goods lining the shelves

“he was worried sick when you didn’t come in for the entire week. he even asked me if he scared you away.”

“maybe i’m just his favourite customer?”

“favourite customer my ass he has a crush on YOU. confess.”

playing around with the ends of your sleeves connie sees he’s fighting a losing battle unless he gives you definitive solid proof

“please... i’ll get free barbecue if i win the bet and i’m kinda broke rn :-(” okay, you do want connie to eat well and be treated and maybe this is a good thing. if levi doesn’t like you then you can move on!!

“i’ll think about it.”

before connie can continue talking you make a beeline towards the tea aisle whilst throwing a “see you next time!” over your shoulder.

by the time you’ve gathered all of your groceries your basket is full to the brim. you’ve been lingering as much as you can out of fear but you think you’ve collected just enough courage to ask for his number

looking at the cash register levi is sat there and your shoulders slump. he’s probably going to say no and you’re going to look like a huge loser.

right as you’re about to take a step towards him levi finally spots you and gives you one look before standing up from his seat

“hi!” you wave at him

“...hey!” he smiles wide but he bites it back pretending it was never there in the first place

placing your basket in front of him he eyes what you’ve got

“hm... lots of peaches as per usual peaches.” the nickname that rolls of his tongue makes you tremble a little. will he call you that after you fuck everything up with this stupid confession?

his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek when he gets to the heart shaped box of chocolates

“a gift for a friend? didn’t know you had those?” he teases as he scans the barcode

“gift for a crush!” you reply back enthusiastically as you dig through your wallet looking for your card

levi doesn’t respond for a few seconds and an awkward silence fills the air. you glance up to see him looking at you open mouthed in shock

“good luck.” he murmurs under his breath he’s not even returning your gaze at this point and is hurriedly scanning through your barcodes

“you okay?” you ask worrying about his mood

“yeah, yeah. great.” he’s quieter than usual.

the rest of your encounter is the same, levi silently bags your groceries and you can’t tell if this is a good or bad response.

just as he’s about to place the heart shaped box into your plastic bag you lunge forward holding his wrist to stop him

“no i don’t need those.”

he cocks his eyebrow upwards trying to analyse your expression and gain an understanding of your thoughts

“don’t tell me you’re chickening out. whoever it is will say yes.” he scoffs as he places the chocolates into the bag handing them over to you with a warm smile

there it is again. the fear returns and you swipe your tongue over your slightly dry lips.

no way.

is he telling you to confess to someone now? so he must not like you?

taking the bag away from him you scratch your neck out of habit and huff feeling frustrated

“he keeps giving me mixed signals.” you say hoping he catches your drift

“give him the chocolates and let him put two and two together. don’t even say anything.” his advice would be great if he weren’t the guy you were trying to confess to in real time

nodding you reach into the bag and bring the box back out before gently placing it in front of levi

“are you serious?” he asks and your face drops seeing the possible displeasure in his eyes

great, connie and the part timers just over analysed he doesn’t like you, obviously he doesn’t like you, why would he like you?

without looking back you hurry out, the embarrassment is eating you away now and the thought of ever returning to ackermart isn’t even feasible in your mind

at this point you may as well change your name, identity, dye your hair, have a few children and wear sunglasses the next time you come back so you look like a soccer mum and not the foolish y/n who thought they had a chance with their cute CASHIER???

god, you probably look like a creep

the sound of footsteps can be heard behind you and labored breaths follow before levi calls out for you

“please wait up.” he grumbles. slowing down your pace you let him catch up to you. he grabs at your wrist and sighs in relief

turning you see him savour the air

is this the part where he confesses he likes you too or—

“your receipt you forgot it.” he gasps as he opens your hand for you and places it into your palm

oh.

fingers clasping shut onto the paper you feel the humiliation seep into your pores

this.

is.

the.

worst.

moment.

of.

your.

life.

“open it.” he offer you a boyish smile and your nerves don’t let you find comfort in it

you grimace as you fold it open, you’re imagining he’s charged you an extra £100 for having unwanted feelings for him and if that’s the case you’ll die on the spot

but instead your eyes light up in joy. you’re pleasantly surprised

...

inside of the receipt is his phone number haphazardly sprawled across in black biro - you even double check by comparing it to the number for the customer service helpline

hello??

HELLO.?.!/)£ HIS NUMBER???

“if you just wanted to return the chocolate this is embarrassing.” he’s the one who’s now scratching at his neck and you find that he’s endearing this way

the streetlight from above illuminates him, the shadows cast over his face and his brows aren’t furrowed as they usually are

you open your mouth to reply but connie cuts you off unintentionally. he can be heard YELLING into his phone ecstatic that his plan has worked out

“I WIN!!! HA BBQ’S ON YOU JEAN!! MUST SUCK TO BE YOU.”

you and levi look at each other and laugh, reassuring the other of what has just happened.

well...

you guess this is the start of something new? maybe??

:-)

[blzzrdstryr]

Reveries of the Past. Yandere!Childe x Fatui!gn!reader

Wordcount: 3875

CW: Dissociation, graphic depiction of violence, hallucinations, unhealthy relationship and unhealthy power dynamics.

A.N.: I used a lot of my experience with dissociations in this and if it makes you uncomfortable, I would advice not to read it. I also plan on writing continuation for this, as it’s set before the Rite of Descension. P.s. I am not a native English speaker, so could you notify me if there’s awkward wording.

[Next chapter]

There are plenty of times you find yourself reminiscing about the past and now, your mind slips back to your memories, as you look at the horribly mangled body of the treasure hoarder. The stench of blood stuffs up your nose, it’s sickly sweet metallic odor making your gut clench and nausea rise, as your limbs grow heavier and numb. You don’t feel  like you belong in your skin and bones and blood anymore - it’s cold, so cold, yet you don’t feel any of it. You are an outsider, an unwanted intruder in the house that is your body, an indifferent observer looking at the world through the thick glass.

The world around disfigures, shapes and colors changing in the constant whirlwind - they jump and dance around, small becoming large and large shrinking so much it’s barely visible, green shifts to red to blue and to yellow and to million of other colors, and sounds suddenly become muffled, losing their sharpness, but you don’t care about it: the part that is “you” fled to the daydreams of your childhood moments ago, leaving a clinically observing, yet unfeeling being behind. 

Adults would describe you as a perfect child: quiet, obedient and dutiful, you were a stark contrast to the other louder and more free spirited kids. You studied hard, cleaned the house, helped with dishes and cooking and never talked back. 

I can't upset mom and dad because they work so much. I can't play with other kids because if I do, they will make fun of me, I have to study hard and get good grades, because mom said I will have a good job and become rich and help them. 

These particular memories don't feel good to you: they're bleak and boring, yet full of silent shame - they make your throat clog and eyes water, as something burning starts to bloom deep underneath your skin. 

Childe stops beating the still alive treasure hoarder, a blood smeared on the cheek and a dangerous glint in his eyes, and turns his head to you. 

"Hey, how about lending me a helping hand?", there’s a hunger in his voice you recognize, he wants to teach a lesson to the debtors, then. You walk towards him, feeling your knees get weaker and weaker with each step for some reason. A dagger made of ice shines in your hand with cold light. 

"It's no wonder [First] received a vision! My [First] is always so good and smart, there are no children better" the exact words your mother says, as she brags to her friends, showing them the vision you were bestowed with. You left it to her, not caring what will happen to it - despite all the child's wonder you felt before receiving it, the glowing orb doesn’t look so amazing to you now. It feels foreign and ugly, a reminder of what happened seconds before you gained it. 

“You know, when I was a child”, he takes the weapon and focuses on the treasure hoarder’s leader again, “we made a special kind of promise”. It’s tip travels to the hoarder’s hand. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life”

The sweet voice he uses and the fact that you  know the nursery rhyme too would make you sick in the stomach the other day, but not now. 

You don’t exactly remember how you joined the Fatui - it happened shortly after you gained a vision, when you were still too numb and cold to the outside world after the Event. 

Mom will hate me, dad will hate me too. I can’t let them know.

Your parents say that officials just knocked on the front door one day and offered you an entry into the Fatui and a monthly salary, big enough to stop your parents from overworking themselves. You were terrified back then, Fatuis despite being known as a diplomatic organization are still a mystery to the ordinary Shezhnayan and a direct servants to Her will. The thought of disappointing Tsaritsa or letting down Snezhnaya was enough to paralyze you, but seeing the smiles on your parents faces was enough to make you swear to yourself, that you will work there no matter how scary it seems.

“You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice.” The blade stops between phalanges of the little finger: “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend", he presses it, strong enough to detach the limb from the rest of the body in one swift slash. Treasure hoarder starts to cry and scream from the sudden pain, yet quickly chokes on it as Childe hits him in the solar plexus. The crack of bones feels deafening among the sea of muffled sounds.

Training was rigorous to say the least, you came back to your dorm room absolutely exhausted and after you fell on the bed you were practically dead to the world. Turns out, having a vision wasn’t enough to make you a fighter - you needed to know how to climb, swim, run with a weight to lift and wield a weapon. There were other children and teens with you, they eyed your vision with a mix of adoration and envy, you pretended not to catch it in turn.

“The frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again”, harbinger forces the victim's jaw apart by squeezing it with one hand, the other rapidly forcing a dagger inside the mouth. Treasure hoarder gasps and mumbles, fat tears forming in his eyes. A part of you expects a sound of parting flesh, but none comes: Tartaglia stands up and removes the blade, leaving a shivering and terrified man laying on the ground.

“Well,” Childe shrugs, as if he didn’t just dismember a person, voice back to his cheery tone : “You didn’t actually make a pinkie promise, so consider it a small mercy”. The treasure hoarder cowers even more, snuggling the injured hand close to the bruised chest. “But if you fail to repay your debt I will oversee that the frost”, he points in your direction, a treasure hoarder’s eyes going wide as he notices your vision, “will actually freeze your lying tongue off”, his voice descends again, back to it’s dangerous half-whisper.

You meet Ajax during the winter, he’s close to you in age and just arrived into Fatui grounds. He boasts and shows off to all of you, and you desperately want to retort something acidic to shut him up and rip off that arrogant bravado, yet say nothing, picturing how the tomorrow training session will have him laying flat on his back, too hurt and too tired to move even a single finger. 

He defeats the trainer in less than a minute.

Now, that the treasure hoarder fled, still snuggling disfigured limb, Childe turns attention back to you. “You seem a little bit disinterested here”, his hand on your cheek is so foreign, it’s burning and freezing at the same time, the shock from the unwanted touch almost strong enough to pull you back into reality. He notices your unintentional flinching and unfocused eyes “Ah, you hurt my feelings, [First]! And I thought we already became friends”. 

You say nothing, cold and unmoving, blind and deaf to the outside world, his words register a second too late, and there’s no cliche phrase for you to reply with. He looks a bit baffled and deflated for a second, but shrugs it off, just like he did during teen years, when you deliberately ignored all his attempts at catching your attention.

“Huh, even if you are so cold to me, I still forgive you”, he takes your hand, his touch still too overwhelming for you to process and pulls you back to Liyue harbor, your legs barely bending as you walk after him, like an obedient dog trailing it’s master.

“You know [First], I can beat you up so badly, that you will barely walk”, you put feather aside, stopping writing the letter to your parents as you glare at Ajax with barely masked indignation. He grins, satisfied to finally catch your attention after the whole day of pestering you. “I am aware of that” you reply in an absolutely flat tone, holding yourself from pouncing on him and trying to break the teeth out of that smug smile. He beams even wider, as if sensing your not-so-good intentions, revealing even more pearly whites as if taunting you.

“But I won’t, count yourself lucky”. And he leaves, this short interaction filling you with so much rage that you shake, handwritten letters noticeably becoming sharper and faster, your thoughts clouding around the idea of acquating his face with your boots. 

 Nonetheless, you indeed count yourself fortunate enough, when you see Ajax defeating grown men with bare hands. When you two, the only vision holders among your peers have to spar, he always goes easy on you, prefering to immobilize you rather than beating, making your defeat less painful yet even more humiliating. 

Almost at the end of your trail he suddenly stops and says something, but you don't catch it, words turning into separate vowels and then fusing together into one unintelligible gibberish mess. He leans in, close enough for his breath to burn your neck, and he continues to get closer, until his empty eyes look into yours glazed ones. He seems disappointed for a second and backs down, his breathing no longer fanning your skin. 

Distantly you think that you somehow angered him and he will slap you for it, and do nothing to dodge the hit - you barely feel pain in this condition anyway, but he doesn’t. The road to the Northland Bank is completed in absolute silence, Childe no longer trying to grab your attention, only when you enter Liyue Harbor does he whisper, that you two must look like a pair with all that hand holding. Judging by the volume and tone of his voice he says it more to himself than to you.

***

You come back to yourself in the safety of your room on the third room of the Northland bank. It feels like a rush of sensation, as everything becomes sharper and clearer again, like you just swam to the surface of water from the very depths of it. An invisible bubble around your head pops in one moment, and the world becomes real again, mind and body connecting for once more.

Eyes and ears focused you take in surroundings: the room is neat and lifelessly empty - just a bed and a working desk with a stack of written but unsent letters, along with a small bookcase near, no figurines, pictures or even plants to decorate living place, as you see no reason to adorn the area you use for sleeping only. Indiscernible wallpapers and a small window close to the middle of the bed finish the picture of austerity.

 Once, your memory catches up to you, you can't help groan from the shame and irritation, hiding your face in both hands. Afterwards  always feels both like a disgraceful escape and a warm blanket during the stormy night, a duality that you accepted long ago after joining the Fatui and today is no exception. You curse Harbinger when you remember why exactly you had an episode, and get up from the bed you threw yourself on minutes ago. You come to the desk, taking a clean form of a relocation request from the drawer and writing materials. 

Filling in the blank feels like commiting a felony to you for some reason - you stop several times when you hear footsteps in the corridor, focusing on the door,ready to hide the half written form and say some lie as an excuse. You don't list the Childe-related reasons, knowing that there's nothing that could make any of the Harbingers face the consequence for their actions, and instead you write completely normal and fake causes: health concerns, family matters and so on. Part of you doubts that this will work and you will have the fortune to get away from a certain harbinger as far as possible. Trying and failing is better than never attempting, you think, quickly writing the paper.

Once you finish it, you almost rush to Ekaterina, praying that you won't run into a certain ginger on the way. Sometime ago you caught Tartaglia checking your letters, for a secrecy he said back then, we can’t let anyone know about the coming operation. Childe then instilled that every sent and received letter should be checked, lest Qixing and other Liyuens learned what Fatui had in plan. It sounded logical and sensible, but the paranoid thought that he enforced this policy just to have a glimpse at your feelings never stopped eating at you. From that day on you sent your family the most basic and vague letters, just stating that you’re in good health and mind, still missing them and Snezhnaya, leaving the ones with more private sentiments in your room. 

Her eyes are completely obscured by the mask, but even with that you can’t miss the pointed glare she sends your way - Tartaglia never shied away from showing off, be it his strength, money or his twisted obsession that he calls love. With the amount of time and finances he spends on you and the way he acts like a kicked lovesick puppy in your vicinity, you are pretty sure that at least half of the bank workers see you as a cunning and cruel seducer, so keen and devious in the art of temptation that you managed to lure in Eleventh Harbinger.

As if archons decided to laugh at you, Childe descends from the second floor too, catching the sight of you near the receptionist. He looks unusually somber for a moment, but then he sees you, a smile appearing on his face as he takes the form from Ekaterina's hands. You can just feel how Ekaterina rolls her eyes under the mask, as if muttering complaints about the lovers’ spat and insubordination, having been working with her for some time, enough to have a clue of the inner workings of her mind.

You have to give him that he plays the confusion and regret very persuasively. He asks how he can fix this, says what a valuable team member you are to him and how much you are needed in the Northland bank. You agree to his suggestion - if years of training with Ajax and then work with Childe taught you anything, it is that Ajax is the chaos incarnate and Tartaglia is Ajax’s less tolerable and more unpredictable version, so it’s better not to anger him.

***

In the end he invites you to dine with him at Wanmin restaurant, a place Childe heard from some “xiansheng” as he called them. A bustling Liyue street is open before you two, tall midday sun painting the whole street into bright orange, so unlike the pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya. He orders two Black Back Perch Stews on the chef's recommendations, and hands a bouquet of local flowers in a parody of a normal boyfriend. Any random observer would really see it as a date.

You take the flowers, pretending to pay more attention to  them than to a man sitting near you. Tartaglia is an unpredictability wrapped in human skin, there’s no privilege as being lax and carefree near him, as even Tsaritsa has no idea what he will do next. 

To your mutual confusion Xiangling presents the meal with two pairs of chopsticks. Utensils feel foreign in your palm, you having no idea how to handle them and Childe, by the looks of it too. Tartaglia specifically asks the chef for spoons, while you observe the other clients, noting how they use theirs. Holding one stick like a pen and then placing the bottom one in a fixed position under the thumb you manage to grasp the fish from the soup, albeit clumsily. You consider it a small win. 

The image of a mighty Harbinger struggling in a failing battle with chopsticks would look funny to you, if it wasn’t for the whole "date" you were having. After putting them aside, and seemingly admitting defeat, Childe starts from afar: "You know [First], you changed a lot since I first met you" .

You raise an eyebrow at the starter, it's vague and innocent enough, but experience tells you that he will or at least try to stir the conversation into your relationship with him again. Straightening a bit and finally turning your eyes to him, you pause for a second, picking the least offensive reply you can muster - there’s a swarm of insults buzzing at the tip of your tongue prepared just for him, growing and sprouting since your pubescent years.

“Yes, I got taller”, he laughs it off, like you said some funny joke, his giggles not stopping for some time. "No, I mean as a person. Remember how you used to glare at me for joking? And now you act so unfazed ”

Joking. Is this what he calls it? Shivers creep up your spine when your memory oh so conveniently conjures the images of the aftermath of his jokes.

“Your jokes weren’t funny to anyone but you”. Breathe, you think, there’s no need to anger him. There are pictures of broken bones and bruised bodies and a cacophony of somebody else’s pained screams flashing and rattling in your head, Adults never did anything. Why would they? They had a golden boy Ajax, why would they help the others when they had him? Why would they help you? Bitterness and anger you thought you swallowed long ago rise up to the surface again, and you decide to bite down on the stew - Tartaglia always found a way to turn your words against you and hurt you, no need to give him more weapons now.

“I changed a lot too. I know I was insufferable as a teen”, he must have taken your silence as a free pass to continue whatever nonsense he’s sprouting, “I am sorry”.

The last three words catch you off guard, a piece of fish almost stuck in the throat from the jolt. Ajax takes you by surprise once again, for him to finally acknowledge and apologize for all the pain he caused and years he tormented you?

You blink and look at him intently, his facial expression changing into an unusually somber one. It seems authentic enough.

“Let’s start from the scratch?

You contemplate unsure what to say.

Was he lying?

Looking back, you in a sense are luckier than most of Childe's victims, witnessing his youth, familiarizing and distinguishing the tells of him lying and scheming, observing the way he bloomed into the manipulator he is today firsthand. You see a familiarity in his face and voice, something that helps you from falling to his charms. There's also the added fact that you were and still are an involuntary witness to the way how carnal and bloodthirsty usually friendly Ajax can become. 

When did you catch his attention?

You remember his smile when he first approached you, less teeth and more sincerity that is thereafter,a hand outstretched to you. It happens on the next day after his arrival, almost as cold and unpleasant as the previous one. You brush the limb away like a noisy fly, secretly angry at his arrogant attitude and how effortlessly he endured training. His smiling doesn’t stop, yet you feel a sudden change in the air around you.

Would your fate be different if you took his hand?

You can't forget how your mind disconnected from your body for the second time. It was Ajax again vying for your attention akin to a spoiled child, and like one he threw a tantrum when you refused to give him any. The poor recruit you were talking with was hospitalized the same day, as you helplessly watched the carnage before you. You didn't fight, you didn’t flee, you just froze, like a scared animal, paralyzed by fear, yet somehow too detached from feelings. That day was bizarre: once you felt reality, it was solid and undeniable and then you didn't. The realness of the current diffused, slipped through the fingers like sand, leaving nothing but unreliable and delusive reveries behind.

Will he let you go? 

“People do change and I see that you changed too. I don’t think of you as a teen you were” you carefully pick the words, Tartaglia visibly blooms, thinking that his apology worked, yet your next words snuff out his triumph: “but my memories stay the same. I don’t think we can start from scratch”

You bite the tongue, the second part still coming out too harsh for your liking. The moment of sincerity is interrupted, you see him, changing the masks, unsure what to do. It seems for the first time it was you who caught him off guard. You guess which one of the two standard facades he will decide to show to you, having spent years by his side to observe him masterfully wielding both, the friendly one with a vacant smile that never reaches his dead, dead eyes or the calculating one, distant and devoid of humanity?

In the end he uses none, a hurt still evident, dripping in his tone, face and moves - is it another mask you never got to see or is it real? - “So that is your answer”, he leans in closer, dull cerulean eyes looking right into yours.

You hold his stare, nodding, instead of saying anything and he hums, sitting back and wearing the cold mask, reserved for his enemies: “Just wanted to remind you that I am the Harbinger and you are just a position higher than an ordinary agent”. Despite seeing it so many times, it’s the first time he directs it at you and you have to suppress the shiver. The unsaid threat hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you.

You two are no longer solemn [First] and annoying Ajax, who trails your steps behind like a puppy, no, you are a special agent [Last] and Eleventh Fatui Harbinger Tartaglia, to whom you are personally assigned by Tsaritsa herself. Even possessing vision and delusion yourself you can’t match Childe’s power, and your loss would be easy to overlook if your harbinger wished for it. Honestly speaking, there are a lot of things he could do to you without anyone questioning it, the Harbingers being the second most powerful figures in the organization, right after Tsaritsa herself. You heard the stories of Krupp and other assistants who got missing under Il Dottore, you heard of horrible accidents happening to the people Scaramouche dislikes, you heard about the injuries Signora inflicts on the unfortunate recruits when she is in foul mood, yet you never thought that Tartaglia will abuse his power in the same way.

“Don’t worry” he seems to have taken mercy on you, “I won’t use my position like that, it’s cheating and I like to play the fair game”, despite the seemingly reassuring words , you don’t let yourself relax, knowing him for years.

“Don’t think I will back down though, I am not the type to give up”