#think pieces are only okay when i write them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 day

Text

Killua and the Power of Wishes

Okay going to try and make this coherent because the amount of wish association all through Killua's character development makes me want to chew plaster.

As a fair warning, this analysis ended up being long as hell, and I didn't even include everything I could've said. This is also just one lens to analyze Killua's story arc with, and I feel there are other valid interpretations of some of these moments. This is just one of mine, so keep that in mind please.

One last warning that this analysis does discuss emotional manipulation and abuse, as is par for Killua's background.

Let's set the stage with one important piece of info: Killua's birthday.

Killua's birthday is July 7th, the same day as Tanabata. Tanabata is a folklore-rich festival where according to legend, the two lovers, weaver Orihime and cowherd Hikoboshi, represented by the two stars, Vega and Altair, are allowed to reunite once a year after separation. A popular custom of Tanabata is to make wishes by writing them down on tanzaku, then hang it on a bamboo tree so that the wish might one day come true.

Tanabata is also known as the Star Festival. Please keep this in mind, because I'm going to come back to it.

To finish setting up the lens for this analysis, I'm going to need to dig into the game-changer scene for Killua's early characterization - his confrontation with Illumi at the end of the Hunter Exam, and specifically, the exact nature of Illumi's manipulation of him.

I say "game-changer" because it really is - up until this point, it's kind of fair to not fully know what to think about Killua. Certainly, he seems excited to hang out with Gon (he approached him first, after all) and he's friendly enough, but he's also arrogant and claims to be motivated mainly by boredom. For all intents and purposes, Killua seems set up to be Gon's dangerous yet charismatic rival... but then this scene happens and it completely turns it all on its head.

Because Killua may have mentioned his family was controlling before, but he seriously downplayed the severity of it - likely because he has no point of reference for how awful his situation actually is other than it makes him feel bad and trapped. Illumi's appearance immediately shifts our understanding of Killua from runaway murder kid with annoying murder family to straight-up victim of emotional abuse, and dissolves his cockiness instantly to terror.

What does all this have to do with wishes? Glad you asked. Let's look at some of Illumi's dialogue.

[ID: A screenshot from HxH episode 20 of the 2011 anime. Killua looks up, sweating and conflicted, as Illumi tells him "You don't want anything or wish for anything." End ID.]

This is the crux of Illumi's (and the family's) control. Killua's desires do not align with the family trade. They must be excised from him.

When Killua insists that he does have something that he really wants, Illumi says "Tell me what it is you want", in a mockery of a certain other sibling who would have helped fulfill this wish - Illumi asks only so he can completely dismantle it. And Killua isn't even really surprised at Illumi's words, just heartbroken. You can tell this isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened.

Killua states his wish quite fervently; he really means it. But his words are not rebellious, nor cathartic. Instead, he answers Illumi quietly, as if fearful or ashamed, almost reminiscent of a sinner's confession.

[ID: Two screenshots from HxH episode 20 of the 2011 anime. In the first Killua looks down with a troubled expression, saying "I want to become friends with Gon...". In the second, his face is hidden as he stands with hands clenched at his sides with a spotlight on him. He says "I'm sick of killing people..." End ID.]

It's such an innocent, simple want.

And Illumi proceeds to make him feel like even something so simple is harmful and selfish of him... not to the family, but to Gon.

In a matter of a few minutes, Illumi breaks down Killua's wish by:

Acknowledging this desire, but twisting it into something that will inevitably fade over time, thereby causing Killua to doubt his own conviction and feelings -> "Gon is a novelty, a radiant presence who has piqued your curiosity. No more than that."

Acknowledging that Gon is someone important to Killua, and undermining this by telling him that by his very nature, he will eventually bring harm to Gon, which makes him feel as though Killua cannot trust himself to be a good friend -> "If you try to be friends with him, you will one day want to kill him... because you are, by nature, a murderer." (As a... delightful... bonus, this is also apparently how Silva and Illumi justify their treatment of Killua to him - "This is the essence of your existence and we taught you accordingly." Like they adapted to Killua's nature, instead of them molding Killua into who they wanted him to be.)

Delivering an ultimatum - to fight Illumi and win, or else Gon will die - that Killua is doomed to fail due to his upbringing and the needle in his head. Since Killua doesn't know about the needle, he assumes this is his own personal failure, something Illumi feeds into -> "You're just not qualified to make friends."

And it's the last point that breaks him. The first two shoot down Killua's present wish, but the last proceeds to shatter any hope he might've had of wishing for anything similar in the future - he has told him that his desires are weak, temporary, inherently dangerous to those around him, and worst of all, aren't enough on their own for him to deserve friendship and love from others. And the clincher: Killua feels like all of this is his own fault, that there is something inherently dangerous and wrong with him!

So, it doesn't even matter to Killua anymore if he fails the Hunter Exam. To him, he just failed the only test that mattered.

10/10 manipulation, Illumi. Fuck you, seriously.

Killua's character arc is mainly his quest and struggle to refute Illumi's arguments and to shake off the manipulation and the ways in which his family have molded and controlled him. And by far, the most difficult part of his conditioning to shake off is this idea that he is undeserving of anything more than what he is already given.

It's almost like the family has drilled it into him that wishes are dangerous. How interesting.

Thankfully, however, there are two parties to Killua's wish here - Gon, too, is a part of it, and it is not simply his reciprocated desire to be Killua's friend that saves him, but also his recognition of Killua's situation for what it is (notably, when no one else correctly identified the true issue).

"You know it wasn't his choice. You manipulated him, kidnapping his spirit!"

The ensuing Zoldyck family arc emphasizes that Gon is 100% correct: the main hold Killua's family has on him isn't physical - it's all emotional.

Killua breaks one of his shackles when Milluki threatens to have his new friends killed, but he only breaks the rest when Zeno tells him he's free to go. So, if Killua could break loose at any point, was this still a rescue like Gon said?

Well, yes - just because he absolutely could've broken out physically at any time, that does not mean he could just leave. That's the nature of situations such as this - it's not as simple as "just leaving". Support is necessary, as is actually having something tangible outside the situation to go to - otherwise there is little point to leaving at all. Gon (and Kurapika and Leorio) showing up to free Killua showed him that his wish was reciprocated and allowed him to break one cuff - this is the start of his journey, but he still has a long ways to go. Notably, he again hesitates and closes off when Silva asks what he wants.

[ID: Three panels from HxH chapter 42. In the first, Silva asks Killua "...would you like to see [Gon]?" Killua's expression is complicated in the next panel - he's closed off and uncertain. Silva continues "Be honest, Kil... what do you want?" End ID.]

Killua will backtalk and casually break his shackles and death glare his family... but he's too fearful to voice his wants aloud.

And once again, asked by his father what he wants, he is subtly set up to fail. His wish is granted, but made conditional - "Do not betray your friends", something Killua is regrettably set up to do by virtue of the needle in his head that he, again, doesn't know about. Silva fully expects him to fail and come back home, disillusioned, believing it's his own fault due to his "nature", and trusting in Silva still as a "reasonable" figure in his life.

This condition placed on his friendship is what drives much of Killua's fear and insecurity with regards to Gon for much of the series - the idea that Killua has to earn his right to friendship, and that if he doesn't, he will lose it, one way or another.

It really makes me wish that Killua had actually gotten to hear Gon's views on friendship from the beginning of the Zoldyck Family arc, because it entirely refutes this entire philosophy. He even outright refuses to go through the Testing Gates at first, purely because he thinks the sentiment of needing to prove yourself just to be friends is completely outrageous - he only relents because there is no other way.

[ID: Two screenshots from episodes 21 and 22 of the 2011 HxH anime adaptation. Gon looks up at Illumi and firmly states "[Killua] doesn't need to earn the right to be my friend!" In the second, Gon's face is seen in profile and close up as he asks "Why would you test your friends?" End ID.]

I doubt it would've truly prevented Killua's insecurity from manifesting even if he had heard this, to be honest - his issues with usefulness are very deep-rooted in his upbringing - but still, it would've been nice for him to hear, I think.

However, that's not to say that this exact sentiment doesn't come through in their interactions.

Gon, as Killua's friend, cares about what Killua actually wants and wants to make sure Killua knows that - and that's part of what makes the Whale Island conversation between them really important.

[ID: Two images, both of the same scene from HxH chapter 64, and episode 37 of the 2011 anime. In the manga panel, Gon has turned his head to look at Killua directly, who looks shocked and taken aback, to say "I like hanging out with you." In the anime screenshot, Gon has turned his whole body to face Killua, and says "I think it's fun to be with you." End ID.]

I see a lot of people chalk this up to just Gon being Gon, but it reads to me as much more deliberate than even his usual honesty. He's turned so he's looking directly at Killua, which is a sure way to make his words come across clearly. The lead up to this is Killua, again, not knowing or being able to vocalize what he wants. He doesn't have a goal to work towards like Gon, he only knows what he doesn't want - he's a mix of envious and admiring towards Gon, who knows what he wants and simply goes for it.

But this conversation makes it clear that they have a shared wish - they both want to be friends, and they'd both like to stay together. It's not about earning, to Gon, it's only about if they both want the same thing - mutual, not conditional. There's a nice almost call-and-response type dialogue here, where Gon asserts that he likes spending time with Killua (very directly lol), then shares that Killua is the first friend his age he's had. This prompts Killua to say that Gon is his first friend ever, and that he does have fun with him. And just like that, Gon replies "Then let's stay together!" and pointedly includes Killua's desire to find a goal in their, now shared, upcoming journey.

Overhead, a shooting star appears in the sky. A mutual wish is granted.

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 64. The night sky is full of stars. In the centre is a shooting star. End ID.]

Hm. Stars. Remember how I told you to keep that in mind, all the way back at the beginning? Their association with Tanabata, making a wish on a shooting star, etc. etc.?

Well, buckle up because this star is going to make you experience so much sadness now.

[ID: Panels from HxH chapter 286. The first is a conversation between Killua and Meleoron where Killua asserts he intends to "go down in flames with [Gon]". When Meleoron looks concerned, Killua brushes off the declaration as a joke. In the second image, Killua is turned away, his outline pale, as Meleoron thinks "Why... did you looks so sad... back there?" The last image is a cloudy night sky filled with stars. At the centre of the panel is a shooting star. End ID.]

Yeah, it makes its reappearance directly after Killua has "jokingly" resolved to die with Gon if it comes down to it, after "since it means nothing to you".

I am assured, in Japanese, the word choice here is 心中 (shinjuu), the word for double suicide, where the intent is to die at the same time in the same manner in order to be reunited in the afterlife. The implication here is that Killua, having increasingly grown insecure in his place by Gon's side but unable to voice this, knowing that Gon is hurtling down the path of no return, thinks back to their conversation under the stars where they both mutually wished to stay together and, because he believes that it is no longer possible for him to help Gon, has resolved to stay by his side in death, and after it.

...holy shit, kid.

[ID: Two screenshots from the 4th ending of the 2011 anime. In the first, Gon and Killua stand back to back as meteors fall around them. In the second, they stand facing away from the audience towards a body of water under a night sky filled with stars - Gon throws a stone, which flashes in the air like a shooting star. End ID.]

And of course, here's the shooting star again in the 2011 anime's Nagareboshi Kirari ending, as well as it being the subject of the song itself and rather explicitly referencing that wish to go on a journey together, to stay together, because... Madhouse hates us. I guess. :'(

What started off as a simple wish for a friend deepened into a wish to always stay by Gon's side. This is largely good at first! Killua is able to explore and experience genuine friendship, to get a taste for freedom, and use the power of his fervent wish to protect his dear friend in order to rid himself of Illumi's needle. However, the more Killua wants, the more he traps these wishes in monologues within his own head and does not voice them aloud. Part of it is that he already feels he's been given much more than he deserves - seeing himself as a creature of darkness and Gon as light - but a greater part of the issue here is not that Killua is afraid to wish for things, but that he is afraid wishing without "compensation" will inevitably lead to horrible repercussions - namely, losing who he loves.

In order to feel worthy of staying with Gon, of earning his friendship, Killua works hard to help Gon achieve his goals, taking on the role of wish grantor, growing to do practically anything needed to support him for seemingly nothing in return - but that's not 100% true. Killua wants at least some appreciation, whether he admits it or not - it's a security thing, and it also clearly makes him happy, even if he's not great at accepting it. He insists in Chimera Ant arc that friends don't need to thank friends, but this declaration always read as very sudden to me or like a rationalization, and it's relevant to remember that this is at the peak of Gon isolating himself and self-destructing before his eyes, and Killua's own insecurity regarding his importance to him.

Killua might not mind doing things without thanks, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like to hear that Gon appreciates him. He clearly does appreciate verbal confirmation of their bond! We know this.

[ID: Two screenshots from the 2011 anime. The first is from episode 61. Killua smiles down at the ground with his hands in his pockets, the colours having gone soft and bright. The second is from episode 70 during the dodgeball match. Gon smiles determinedly in the foreground as Killua looks shocked next to him. End ID.]

Keeping all this in mind, Killua's story, or at least this part of it, couldn't have concluded in a better way than his rescue of Alluka, the wish grantor.

Now, I could probably write an entire other analysis on Alluka and Nanika alone, but for the sake of not making this any longer than I already have, I'm going to go through only a few points. Alluka is incomprehensible to her family because they make no attempt to understand her, with the exception of Killua. The only thing they do seem to understand, when explained to them, is the demands made after Nanika grants a wish - this, of course, fits neatly into their own predetermined views on "earning" and "punishment". However, beyond this, they make no attempt to understand her, and since her power is deemed dangerous and uncontrollable, she is locked away.

They are worried, first and foremost, that Alluka will bring harm to the family, and there's two ways in which this could be true:

As a function of failing to fulfill her requests, of course

Because she, just by existing, threatens the family's status quo

I stated at the beginning that Killua's desires do not align with those of the family business, and he's always apparently been more open to understanding others - he asks Alluka and Nanika questions to understand them, and treats them with respect, while his family are more so focused on subjugating anything that might be a threat. This is what Illumi tried to drill into Killua after all; never fight a superior opponent - everything is about assessments of relative strength, which leaves no room for open-mindedness or getting to know people.

Faced with a daughter who is clearly incomprehensibly powerful, and a son, the would-be inheritor of the family trade, who is showing a disturbing amount of willingness to befriend instead of retreat from her, the family made the decision to excise Alluka not just from where she could "harm" the family power-wise, but also likely to secure their control over Killua, who they then set about practically programming to not have any more wishes for himself, or at least to not be able to vocalize them without fear of loss or retribution.

The family's nickname for Killua is "Kil" or "Killu", which is deeply fascinating to me as a reader - nicknames are expressions of endearment, typically, and I actually don't doubt that here. Killua's family does love him, but their love comes with conditions. He must be molded into the perfect son, and every part of him that doesn't fit must be excised.

So: Killua's memories of Alluka are suppressed with the needle, and she is further cut from his life by dropping the "a" from his name (the Zoldyck children are named like a game of shiratori - Illumi -> Milluki -> Killua -> Alluka -> Kalluto). The nickname is also like a command or order "to kill", which is of course what they want him to do.

Saving Gon through saving Alluka and Nanika forces Killua to have to face down the last and hardest of Illumi's manipulations to shake, and that's the notion that a wish, that kindness and friendship and love, cannot be unconditional without severe repercussions - where the people he cares about get hurt because of him, something he cannot envision being forgiven for.

It's a little sad to me that after spending most of the series struggling against his family's teachings that they didn't lead to Killua betraying Gon at all, as he'd feared... but to him betraying Nanika, by sending her away.

Here is this little girl with a bloodstained past, incredibly powerful and dangerous and capable of amazing feats, treated as some evil thing by those who fear her. But she is kind at heart. Her true strength lies in healing, not killing. And she only takes commands from Killua.

Illumi thinks this is because Killua is the only one with control over her. Killua believes this is because she wants praise. They're both partially correct, but this is not the full reason Nanika does what Killua asks of her.

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 146 of the 2011 anime. In the first, Nanika smiles and says "I love Killua." In the second, Killua looks at her, stricken. End ID.]

Nanika loves him. Everyone has been trying to figure out all these complicated rules and conditions on her wish granting and why Killua is the one exception, but the answer is exceedingly simple. She loves him, and wants to do nice things for him so he can have his wishes granted. It's the only way she knows to get the love that she wants in turn.

Just like her brother, Nanika makes herself useful to earn love and appreciation from someone who accepted her when no one else did.

Even though he knows Nanika just wants to help, he still sees her presence as a danger to the person he sees as pure and innocent who must be protected. He sends her away because her "nature" is to be a threat to Alluka's safety, even if she doesn't intend to be. Killua's fear of Illumi and repercussions causes him to make a horrible mistake.

And Alluka tears into him for it.

[ID: A set of panels from HxH chapter 336. A furious Alluka glares and asks Killua if he made Nanika cry. When Killua stutters, she demands he apologize to her. End ID.]

You tell him, girl.

Oh hey, this looks a little familiar, huh?

"Apologize to Killua!" says Gon to Illumi after Illumi sends Killua away.

Nanika should not be the one punished for the actions of those trying to control her. She certainly shouldn't be forced to leave those she loves, or have to earn love from them.

And neither should Killua.

[ID: Three panels from HxH chapter 336. Alluka yells, tears in her eyes, "If you're going to protect me... you have to protect Nanika too!!" Killua looks shocked, then his eyes widen. End ID.]

It's interesting to me that this is the line that snaps Killua out of his fear enough for him to properly speak with Nanika and apologize. One party cannot receive all the protection, nor can the other only give and give limitlessly.

Killua makes it clear to Nanika when speaking with her that he will protect her, and that she doesn't need to earn affection from people by granting their wishes. He promises they will both be there for each other - Killua will praise her whenever she wants, and not just when she does something for him, but he also doesn't refuse Nanika's desire to grant his wishes. It's mutual, not conditional.

And on the heels of this "betrayal", Killua asks for what he never thought he could receive - forgiveness. And even though Nanika is clearly still very upset...

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 146. In the first, Nanika and Killua face each other, both of them teary. Nanika says "Kay." In the second, he has pulled her into a hug. Nanika is teary, her fingers gripping Killua's back tightly. End ID.]

...she doesn't even have to think about it.

I do think Killua still has a ways to go, but he is in a position right now to learn from his relationship with his sisters about balance - that love is not just selfless devotion, but also allowing those who love you to help you and make you happy too. I think that's what unconditional love is, in a way - supporting and working together with the people you love to make each other's wishes come true.

#oh my god this was supposed to be a brief write-up what happened 😭#ugh i feel like this is a bit of a mess and there's infinite other little points i could've made or elaborated on or interpreted differentl #but i'm so tired lmao #anyways tldr fuck you illumi you suck #killua is a snarky little shit but he also has so much love in his tiny body and i think we should appreciate him forever and ever #this also accidentally turned into alluka and nanika appreciation. i love them #nanika sweet angel i love you so much i hope you get all the head pats in the world #ghhh i'm so scared this doesn't make sense anymore i've been working on it for almost a week #hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh meta #killua zoldyck #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.#storyrambles #also that one scene where gon turns to look directly at killua and tells him he has fun being with him makes me jdfhbvsdjfbvh #he's so intense about it i start laughing. no wonder killua basically just went ??!?!?!?! and like. leaned back because i think i would've #done the same lmaoooo #it's very sweet though :')#argh. gotta post. i need to stop hesitating. let's go.

61 notes · View notes

fruityfroggy · 3 days

Text

I don’t know what I’m doing but FUCK IT *chucks oc x canon fanfic into the distance*

Warmth Amidst the Rain

- A hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on in these dark moments of mine. I didn’t know I needed you more than ever.

Pairing: Lilya x Verdigris

Word Count: 795 (apparently)

A/N: This is my first fanfic, so it’s not the best. Read this as self insert if you want. I’m also bad at dialogue writing (and decided to write most of this at 2am), so bear with me if you can, okay? Anyways, I think this counts as light angst, since the actual angst supposedly happened in the scene before the stuff that takes place here. Sort of a more vulnerable side of their dynamic, y’know?

Rain. It just doesn’t quite sound right when it’s gradually starting to ascend from the damp ground in droplets. It was growing eerily quieter with each passing minute, with small, plopping sounds echoing wherever she went.

That was what worried Lilya, as she rushed down the rippling sidewalk. She had to find Verdigris soon, the sand of time is growing uncomfortably shallow now.

After a few moments of searching, the muttering of a familiar voice in the distance snapped her out of her thoughts, just in time for her to notice a figure by the edge of the forest nearby.

“Mantén esto a salvo por mí... por favor, Berillus…”

Lilya instantly dashed in the figure’s direction, a slight breath of relief escaping her as she skidded to a halt behind the woman she was looking for. But concern clouded her mind the second she got a closer look at her. She sensed that something was wrong. Very wrong.

Verdigris’ hair and clothes were drenched with rain water, clinging tightly to her skin as she looked down at something in her hands. Flinching momentarily with uneven breaths, it was as if she was a blighted flower in the wind. It was clear that she was indeed, out here this entire time.

Lilya wanted so badly to kick herself in that moment for not noticing her disappearance sooner, but it wasn’t the time for that. Instead, she carefully placed a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. She felt freezing cold to the touch at that point.

“Verdigris…” There was a beat of silence between the two, the sound rain filling the air around them. She didn’t know what else to say. Lilya’s never really comforted anyone that often, but she wanted to comfort her. Effectively.

“Victor…” Verdigris finally spoke up, but her words came out hoarsely. “He’s gone…they’re all gone now…leaving only pieces of them behind…inanimate pieces…” She didn’t look up from her hands, but Lilya could feel a sense of loneliness and melancholy without even seeing her face. “I’m sorry…he was a good man…” she replied gently. No, no, but that wasn’t good enough of a response, was it?

Suddenly, she remembered the rain-soaked sleeve against her fingertips. A bit hurriedly, Lilya took off her jacket and wrapped it around the arcanist in front of her, giving her shoulders a light squeeze before reluctantly letting go.

Verdigris immediately turned to look back at her, her usual “concerned expression” tainted with something more…sorrowful that she’s trying to bite back. “Lilya, don’t be like this. I’m going to get your clothes wet. You really don’t need to-“

“Shhhh…” the pilot shut down her worries for a moment. She took off her gloves and stuffed them in her pocket, before carefully shifting the hair from Verdigris’ face and wiping away her tears. “I’ll be fine, Verdie. You need this more than me. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, alright?”

Her hands were warm on Verdigris’ face like a beam of sunlight cutting through the dark clouds. She instinctively held onto them with her own hands in hopes of holding that warmth even closer to her. “Am I not cold against your skin? Aren’t you uncomfortable holding me like this?” Verdigris asked softly. “No,” Lilya replied like it was a very obvious thing. “I’m comfortable as long as you’re alright. I…we can’t lose you, okay? It can’t be you…”

Something about those words had struck Verdigris harder than expected, and tears started to well up in her eyes again. She let go of Lilya’s hands and pulled her into a tight embrace, receiving a small surprised gasp in return.

“Вы слишком добры ко мне... как мне заслужить..... все это?”

It was too hard to hold it in anymore, it’s unclear how long it’s been there all these years. But Verdigris couldn’t help but break down in tears against the pilot’s chest in that moment. She’s said those words before, but she’s never been on the receiving end of it, and that felt very different.

Her trembling body felt so delicate in Lilya’s arms, scarily delicate. In that moment, it felt as if one wrong move could shatter the brunette completely. So she held her gently, wanting to hold her tighter, but deciding against it. She lightly caressed her the back of her head comfortingly. “Не волнуйся, я з��есь... я всегда буду рядом, когда тебе это понадобится... все будет хорошо, дорогая…” she cooed.

Amidst her blurred vision, Verdigris felt herself being lifted, a firm but warm grip on the side of her knee and shoulder. Was she a child again? Being held and carried home by her father…like old times? It was hard to tell in that moment, but all she heard was “Hold onto me. We’ll be safe soon, солнышко”.

#Lilygris nonsense✌️yuh #dividers are by cafekitune #maybe went a little wild with the dividers cuz they’re pretty #I don’t read enough fanfiction to write this sort of thing #and did I read more to take inspo?#no #we’re winging it as usual #I definitely didn’t project my lack of comforting skills but still having the desire to comfort the people I love trait onto Lilya a little #it was also definitely not a tactic to avoid having to write much dialogue either #oc x canon #verdigris r1999 #I’m not tagging her cuz I’m scared #Lilygris nonsense

20 notes · View notes

meaningtotellyou · 1 year

Text

i’m actually getting really heated over the responses to harry saying “this doesn’t happen to people like me” over winning his album of the year grammy. because it wasn’t racist or anti-black of him to say. and it’s a weird way to spin it in the first place. it’s something he says it to his crowds every single night of tour. sometimes with tears in his eyes. and he’s right. he was a random little teenage boy just plucked from his home and put into what would become the biggest selling boy band of all time. and now he’s a solo artist winning his first album of the year. so no this doesn’t happen to people like him because he sees himself as just that normal guy who happened to make it big. there was no malicious intent or secret double racist meaning in that statement at all. y’all are just deeply miserable

#think pieces are only okay when i write them #harry styles #harry’s house #grammys23 #album of the year #literally shut the fuck up #1k

2K notes · View notes

camels-pen · 6 months

Text

mmm read a hurt/comfort Zoro fic recently and like. I get it now. That guy DOES hurt so pretty. kinda wanna try my hand at it.

A voice disappeared.

Zoro stopped in his tracks, feet rooted to the spot.

Who was it? Where? How-?

Just barely, he managed to block a blade aiming for his neck.

Luffy was ahead of him, laughing his head off. The cook was a bright flaming beacon in the sky.

The rest? C'mon take a count, Zoro. Make sure.

Usopp. Nami. Chopper. Jinbei. Robin. Cook. Luffy.

What? Two? No, where were-

His breath hitched as he blocked another attack.

Calm down. Take a breath. Count again.

Usopp. Nami. Robin. Cook. Luffy.

Fuck. They couldn't-

No, they had to have left the battlefield. These guys were smallfry, even for the so called "weakling trio".

Zoro took a moment to focus on the enemy around him. He let off a tatsumaki before focusing again.

One at a time, Zoro. Come on.

Usopp.

Robin.

Sanji.

Zoro jerked, eyes wide and searching frantically.

"No, no no no no no. He can't have-" Luffy would never leave before the battle was done, not without making some kind of grand exit. He wouldn't leave without telling Zoro- telling anyone- about it.

He wouldn't up and disappear into thin air like that. Not unless-

Zoro shook his head roughly. They were fine, he just couldn't see them. It would be too much of a coincidence for them all to disappear like that. He just needed to count again, then regroup with Usopp, Robin, and the cook, and figure out what was going on.

Stay calm, Zoro. Losing your head won't find your friends.

So, again, Zoro breathed. And Zoro counted.

Usopp.

The only voice left, was Usopp.

Zoro wasted no time.

He sprinted as fast as he could, cutting down anyone in front of him almost as an after thought, as he bulldozed towards Usopp's voice.

He'd nearly made it too, when some dead man kicked his side hard enough to stop him in his tracks.

Zoro turned to him, a snarl on his face. "Get out of my way before I kill you."

"Huh?" The man sneered. "I should be saying the same thing, watch where you swing those swords, asshole."

Zoro was about to retort when he noticed Usopp's voice moving away from him. He didn't have time for this.

Without warning, Zoro moved to slice through his opponent and, to his surprise, the man blocked it with ease.

"You wanna go? Here and now?" the man growled. "I'll kick your fucking ass."

This man- Zoro has never met him before, but nonetheless felt he would need to pay him his full attention to have a chance at winning.

But Usopp was getting farther and farther-

Oh, Zoro could hit himself.

"USOPP!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, startling the man. "STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE, I'LL BE THERE SOON!"

Usopp didn't respond, but he stopped moving, and that was good enough for now.

"Hey!" The man yelled, pressing down on Zoro's swords. "Whatever you need him for can wait until after our battle's over. He's got his own problems to deal with."

Zoro didn't bother wasting his breath. He cut and slashed, throwing attack after attack without abandon. It didn't matter if he was wasting his energy, he needed to get to Usopp before- before-

The man, infuriatingly, blocked almost every blow, and got a few hits in on Zoro himself.

Zoro would get to Usopp, even if it killed-!

Suddenly, there was a crackle in the air and all at once, Zoro's nerves lit up with pure unfiltered pain.

He dropped to his knees, blurry vision wavering on black shoes. He couldn't feel his arms. Or his face. And his head was getting lighter and lighter.

Zoro's fading thoughts were prayers, to a god he didn't believe in, to keep his friend safe.

"GYAHHH, ZORO'S GONNA KILL ME!"

"Nami-swan, a little help please?" Sanji said, voice uncharacteristically strained.

"If you're asking, how can I say no?" Nami said, smirking. "Get out of the way... now!" The moment Sanji pushed off Zoro's swords to hop away, she brought down her Thunderbolt Tempo on top of Zoro. He fell to his knees before crumbling to the ground, twitching.

"You could've knocked him out on your own though, why ask for my help?" Nami asked.

"Ah well, it seemed he had a couple screws loose and I didn't want to kill what little braincells were remaining." Nami nodded in understanding.

The two of them turned to Usopp as he inched his way closer. He carefully prodded Zoro's thigh with his boot. "He's really unconscious, right? Not gonna get up anytime soon?"

Nami shrugged. "It's always hard to tell with him. But don't worry," -she stood tall, holding out her Climatact- "I'll shock him as many times as necessary."

"That means I get to live another day, so you have the Usopp deal of approval." Usopp gave her a thumbs up.

"What'd you even do to get him so pissed at you, Usopp?" Nami asked.

"Nothing!" He paused and looked away. "Well, nothing recently."

"He wasn't just mad," Sanji said. "He looked..." Scared, Sanji wanted to say. But the word was so... simple. Too simple. And it didn't explain the desperation in his eye. The wet sheen. The way he hardly blinked.

The way he kept himself facing the direction Usopp was in, revealing his constant use of Haki.

This wasn't just Zoro scared. This was Zoro terrified.

And Sanji had never seen him terrified before.

"...off," Sanji settled on, furrowing his brow. "He looked off."

Nami and Usopp hummed in thought.

The three of them stared down at Zoro's prone body. An ominous dark puddle started growing under him.

The three of them sighed.

"I'll call Chopper-" Usopp felt a tug on his ankle. He looked down. Zoro's hand was holding his boot. "I thought you said he was unconscious!" he yelled, trying to break his grip unsuccessfully.

Sanji poked Zoro with his shoe. Zoro didn't move. "He's still unconscious, so you're gonna have to be his teddy bear."

"What?! No!" He gripped onto Sanji's shirt. "Sanji-kun pleaaaaase free me before my ankle's crushed in his sleep!"

Sanji rolled an eye. "You'll be fine."

"Then can you go get Chopper? Zoro's losing a lot of blood."

"The mosshead'll be fine too. Also," -Sanji pointed to Luffy and Chopper doing some kind of strange combo attack, with Chopper in Heavy Point using Luffy as a whip- "I don't wanna break up their fun."

"Sanji-kun," Nami piped up. "Go get Chopper, please."

"Of course, Nami-swan!" Sanji immediately ran off.

The two of them quietly watched him go.

"Did you see what caused this?" Usopp asked.

Nami shook her head. "I know about as much as you do: Zoro suddenly taking out a big group at once and then charging towards you." She bit her lip. "I don't think he recognized Sanji."

Usopp sighed, squatting down to pull the bandana from green hair. He stared at the slackened face of his friend, hands tightening in dark fabric.

"What happened to you, Zoro?"

#one piece #roronoa zoro #nemo the writing ho #oh crap i think i accidentally started a multi-chapter when i meant o write a drabble aaaaa #the gist of this is. devil fruit or marine weapon or something. fucks with zoros head. so he thinks his crew has disappeared one by one #and its like. a subtle thing. which is why nobody notices until Zoros bulldozing toeards Usopp #tbh i have no clue where to go from here i just wanted to cause him some hurt #ack. this has not enough zoro pain #ah well. late night drabbles are. well. late night drabbles.#ohhh perhaps. perhaps even after this whole thing is resolved. zoro has hella trouble sleeping.#bc hes afraid he'll fall asleep and he eont be able to hear his friends voices anymore #so he takes as many night watches as possible. he doesnt take naps anymore. stays up even without having watch #all this just to obsessively check and recheck his Haki.#and then visit each and every one of them to confirm with his own eye that they were still here. still alive #haha yeah. itd probably take awhile to be comfortable enough to sleep again #maybe the only way he feels safe to do so at first is to be in a huge pile with his friends sleeping on or around him #oh fuck now im making myself hella sad #okay thats enough for tonight its bed time

9 notes · View notes

fiendishartist2 · 1 month

Text

guys what if i want to make my own apollo justice game.

#i need to write a prequel to aa4 pls pls pls pls pls #okay get this: so phoenix isnt disbarred yet and he doesnt have trucy. hes still taking and winning cases #one day he gets a call from edgeworth and hes all like ''wright i need your assistance'' and hes like what for and edgeworth goes #''ive been given the most ridiculous case and i think youre the only man in law who can take care of it''#so phoenix bikes his ass to the detention center and boom. child behind bars #and phoenix is like ??? hey kid what are doing here. and this kid is the most surly mfer on the planet like you couldnt get-#-a word out of him if you tried. hes kinda giving phoenix the stink eye too but hes just the littlest guy on earth #and phoenix feels bad for him so he tries to get a rundown of the case (maybe edgeworth gave him an autopsy report or smth beforehand)#but get this. the kid still wont speak. he hasnt even moved a muscle. and after some prodding you find out this little dude-#-doesnt speak english (i dont love aa6 but i think apollos tragic backstory can be interesting so we're going w that but taking it seriousl #anyways so maya is like omg this kid is speaking khurainese but hers is kinda broken bc shes not from the mainland and only knows it-#-from like prayers #so you only get bits and pieces of the kids testimony. plus he still doesnt wanna talk bc ''dhurk told me not to talk to you''#so you start following the new lead but you ask too many questions and apollos like oh shit i said too much and wont talk to you anymore #but now you have two leads: khur'ain and a man named ''dhurk'' plus the fact that this is kid might be new to america since-#-he cant speak english but is smack dab in the middle of california. its all v curious and phoenix wants to get to the bottom of it #for the rest of the case i feel like it would go in the direction of ''we dont know exactly whats up w this dhurk guy or where this kid-#-came from but we do get him acquitted and phoenix is able to save him from the dark path he was heading towards'' thus steering apollo-#-in the direction of law and giving him a wayyyy better reason than aa6 gave him <3 #i kind of like the interlinked nature of ace attorney's storytelling. like everything leads into smth else and everyone is impacted-#-by another person before they even become properly entangled w each other's lives #like how mia faced dahlia years before she met phoenix but dahlia was the one to connect them #or how trucy gave phoenix the diary paper but she's also the one who ropes apollo into the waa. even before they know they're siblings #or how lamoire left apollo and trucy as children and when they reunite as adults they cant recognise each other but they all find each-#-other anyways #i could go on but i think this could be cool yknow esp bc i think the most interesting thing about apollo's aa6 backstory is his life-#-post dhurk. like where did he stay? was he a foster kid? was he put into the system? how did that affect him? what kind of ppl took him in #i just wanna know how that whole thing would have effected him bc like when yiu think about it how did he even get to america?? his dad's #-considered a terrorist. idk man i think its interesting and apollo and dhurks interactions are one of the only good parts of aa6

2 notes · View notes

musical-chick-13 · 10 months

Text

Oh not me avoiding a wildly popular piece of media that I’d probably actually like out of sheer spite.

#maybe this is my True Toxic Trait but I just get really annoyed when all I hear is 'this thing is PERFECT it's EVERYTHING it's the only #TRULY high-quality media to EVER exist it is OBJECTIVELY better than literally EVERYTHING else it's the MOST IMPORTANT thing of ALL TIME'#like...again. not that you have to issue a disclaimer for media discussion of every single one of it's flaws before you earn the right to #talk about it. but if people keep holding something up as The Best Ever No Exceptions with literally no other commentary I just kind of...#get irritated to the point where I don't want to engage with the thing #I think in this case it's really...Objectively This Is The Best. I think that's what bothers me. because there IS no objective measurement #of art. it doesn't exist!! and that's okay!!!! just be honest!!!!!!!#'but mc13 what about your relationship to cxgf' well if you go back through my episode reviews you will see that I very much #acknowledged that some things could be done better and that it is not a perfect show because perfect media ALSO doesn't exist #and I've never said that it's the ONLY '''right''' way to present the themes it explores. there are a million different ways to do that #and it is the Greatest of All Time in MY OPINION. that's not going to be true of everyone!! and you can think something is the Best™#WITHOUT PUTTING DOWN OTHER PIECES OF MEDIA /ESPECIALLY/ ONES THAT ARE NOT EVEN IN THE SAME GENRE OR HAVE THE SAME FUNCTION??????#I'm also so tired of people saying 'it's good because it's gay™' like that tells me NOTHING #and like. the ideas/themes/concepts presented in this thing (from what I can tell) ARE present in other types of media and y'all REFUSE to #engage in those other things??? like you write them off and disparage them and basically unconditionally hate the things in them but #THIS time it's okay THIS is the exception and there is just NO awareness or critical thought there at all. it's the hypocrisy for me #In the Vents

8 notes · View notes

love-fireflysong · 2 years

Text

2. We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other

(gotta tag both @torahime and @nick-furcillo in this one now. kenize because I’m a complete moron who originally posted this like a week early and deleting the og post meant I had to make another one, and tora because she too hilariously enough ALSO requested this exact premise lol)

Nick had never so badly wanted to die in his whole entire life than right now.

Which, all things considered, he really should have expected considering that this whole shebang was really Jacob's idea in the first place. That wasn't to say that all the other counselors certainly hadn't made their own contributions in making this party what it was though, Nick included.

Emma had been the one to suggest making the party eighties themed in the first place and opening the drama cabin's costumes up to the camp so everyone could dress up. Dylan who made the playlist that everyone could dance to out of all the music records found. Abi who was in charge of decorating the lodge to give it a sufficient eighties inspired look and fun for the kids. Nick himself the one who recommended having supper that night be a 'make your pizza' party complete with too many soft drinks and bags upon bags of potato chips. Kaitlyn who organized the shooting stars tournament that would determine which cabin of kids would be making (and thus eating) their pizza’s first and getting first crack at all the ‘good’ ingredients.

And Ryan? Well he had had the most important job and contribution of all: convincing Chris Hackett that they were allowed to even throw the eighties themed dance party in the first place on such short notice. Especially with camp ending in just another short couple of days.

Though at this point, Nick was starting to wish that Ryan had failed, or that Jacob had never been punished with tidying the lodge attic that had resulted in him finding the music records that started this whole thing in the first place.

Which was a shame, because the night had been going so fucking smoothly too! There had been almost no arguments over the pizza toppings, and only one kid had burst into tears when they had dropped their pizza and it fell face down onto the floor. And sure, Nick had nearly sweated to death in the kitchen with the oven cranked as high as it could, but that happened nearly every night he made supper so really that wasn’t a big issue. Plus, he hadn’t changed into his own costume until afterwards, he probably would have actually died otherwise wearing the nearly all-white khaki ensemble with the heavy jacket (and that wasn’t even mentioning all the stains he would have ended up with too).

He had even been able to join in on the dancing himself once Kaylee and Caleb had both switched with him and taken over making sure that the punch and snacks bowls stayed filled and clean cups always at the ready. And, best of all, the last couple of those dances had been with Abi. Abi, the girl he’d had such an embarrassingly large crush on all summer, but had been, as Jacob so loved to eloquently put it: ‘too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it’.

And seeing as the last day of camp was pretty much tomorrow, Nick wasn’t exactly jumping at the bit to let her know about any of that. Not when the chances of them ever seeing each other ever again after they all split ways was pretty much nil, and he didn’t even have her number or socials or anything to keep in contact afterwards.

(Okay, fine. Yes, he still had her email address that had been listed on the orientation packet. Yes, he had maybe stared it at long and often enough that he had memorized it ages ago. No, he was absolutely not gonna be messaging her through it, are you insane Kaitlyn?! Doing that would just make him look like some sort of desperate creep oh my fucking god!)

So Nick was more than content to just share a couple of quick dances with Abi. Keeping a friendly and respectful distance between each other as they danced to whatever band Mr. H had apparently listened to in his youth. Occasionally laughing with her when the both spotted one of their campers doing some absolutely ridiculous dance move that apparently both were now too old to recognize as being the new, cool thing if one had to judge from the excited shrieks that would always arise from nearby kids every time one was pulled off.

It was nice. It was good. And if this was the last chance that Nick would ever get to spend some time with his summer crush, then he would enjoy every last second of it.

As the last couple of notes of Danger Zone had begun to wind down, Nick knew he should probably have excused himself and gotten back to the kitchen so he could relieve Caleb and Kaylee a song or two back now, and that he should definitely do so now. That was the responsible thing to do after all, but the problem was that he also wanted to stay and continue dancing with Abi a whole lot more. Not that he had time to make either choice when the music faded not into another of the hard rock songs that Dylan had been playing all night, but into a song much, much softer.

A song that sounded suspiciously like one someone would have to slow dance too.

Whatever shock was on his face though was clearly reflected almost identically onto Abi’s as well. Staring up at him with the same wide-eyes and almost gaping mouth, bodies frozen in place awkwardly as all the campers continued to dance around them, not caring or even noticing what the change in music meant as they grabbed nearby friends to dance with.

Slowly, Nick turned to look over his shoulder to where Dylan was standing with the music equipment, demanding to know exactly what the actual fuck he thought he was doing. Only to be met with a wide, beaming smile of encouragement. Encouragement only matched by the double thumbs up he sent Nick’s way.

Forget dying, he was going to kill that Patrick Star looking ass motherfucker if it was the last thing he did. And considering he felt like he was going to die from the mortifying embarrassment of staring at Abi awkwardly as literally everybody else in the room continued to dance, it probably would be.

And yet, despite the fact that this was literally the perfect time to excuse himself and get back into the kitchen where he could wither away and die in peace, he found that he wanted to leave the dance floor even less now.

“We...we can keep dancing if you want. I’m okay with it if you are...”

Nick could only blink down at Abi in shock. There was absolutely no way he had heard her right, no way at all. There was no way that she was fine still dancing with him, that she wanted to keep dancing with him. Not when the extremely romantic Listen to Your Heart was currently playing very loudly and clearly throughout the lodge.

If Dylan had thought he was being subtle with the message of the song, then he clearly had another thing coming. Cause his definition of subtlety was far, far closer to hitting someone up the side of the head with a brick.

“...You sure?”

“Yeah, totally,” Abi nodded, even as she kept her eyes firmly planted on her feet. “I mean, it’s just like any old song, right?”

“R-right. Yeah. Totally.”

Even with that agreement, neither still made the first move to actually reach out and put their hands on each other. Instead partaking in their own little awkward dance of trying to figure out where exactly the safest place to put said hands would be, squeakily apologizing every time their arms managed to collide into each other and pulling back before trying again. It took them both until about midway through the first chorus to actually get settled and into a somewhat appropriate position with her hands on the top of his shoulders and his resting lightly on her waist.

Nick’s honestly not sure what part is the most painfully awkward to look at: the fact that the full foot in height difference means that Abi’s almost straining to try and reach him even though he’s hunched down slightly to make it easier, or the even more obvious fact that Mr. H would have been thrilled with how much distance they were keeping between themselves as they held their arms stiffly out. Forget ‘room for Jesus’, Nick was pretty confident that Jacob could have easily fit in between them!

And, surprisingly, it was easy to ignore the soft weight (and warmth) of Abi’s hands up on his shoulders as they awkwardly swayed side to side. Though the main reason it was easy to ignore was due to the pure fact that she had cut the bottom off of one of her band t-shirts for tonight, meaning that Nick was trying extremely hard to forget the fact that he had his own (likely super sweaty) hands on the extremely bare skin of her waist.

“So,” Nick starts off, wincing and hoping that Abi didn’t notice the sharp crack in his voice as he did so, “the decorations look nice?”

He’s currently in the middle of kicking himself for the very unintended way his voice had decided to catch at the end, turning what was supposed to be a statement into a question, when Abi nervously laughs. “Thanks, but it was mostly the kids that made everything, I just showed them examples that I had already made to give them ideas.”

“Well they clearly must have had a pretty great teacher then, cause they did an amazing job.”

Nick can’t help but catch Abi’s face starting to go pink even under the dim lights, and as always he’s pleased with himself that he was even able to make her blush in the first place. He’s ready to continue in the same vein as those compliments—willing and able to say whatever it takes if it makes her continue to keep blushing pretty pink like that—when someone (ie: Emma) bumps into Abi from behind and sends her crashing into him.

“Whoops! Sorry about that Abi!” Emma calls over her shoulder (not sounding very sorry about it at all in Nick’s opinion) before she leads Jacob back to vanish into the crowd...or at least, she would have vanished if it wasn’t for the fact that the crowd pretty much consisted of nothing but kids that were still shorter than Abi and Kaitlyn.So instead Nick got to watch her head straight back towards where Kaitlyn and Ryan are also sharing a slow dance of their own. Ryan somehow looking more awkward than Nick felt and like he would rather be anywhere else but here as Kaitlyn does her best to keep a light mood with a forced smile on her face... all while Dylan watches them both with a not very well hidden sulk.

Nick would be feeling bad for Dylan honestly if it wasn’t his own fault that he was in this mess in the first place. That, and it’s hard to feel bad for him when all Nick can pay attention to is the fact that Abi’s all but pressed right up against him right now, her arms now nearly wrapped all the way around his neck to try and catch herself and his own hands having tightened their grip around her waist to try and steady her. Slowly, she turns her face up to look at him and the colour had changed from the light dusting of pink across her cheeks to a dark magenta that almost matched the coloured tips of her hair.

A shade that Nick was very sure matched the one on his face almost exactly.

“I’m sorry!” She squeaks out, hazel eyes wide as she tries to regain her footing. “I didn’t mean to!”

“I-It’s fine,” he stammers out, trying so very fucking hard to ignore the way that he can literally feel her pulse fluttering nervously beneath his palms. “It wasn’t even your fault to begin with. Really, it was just Emma being Emma if anything.”

“Yup!” Even as she nervously laughs it out though, he can’t help but notice how shrill and high pitched her voice is. “Just...just Emma being Emma!”

It only takes another couple of seconds to sort themselves out, but Nick doesn’t let go of her just yet. Doesn’t want to let go of her honestly. Now that they’ve started that dance, even as awkward and stiff as it was, he doesn’t want to stop until the song ends. So instead he swallows and works up the courage to say as much. “Listen, just because Emma was being—well, Emma, I guess—that doesn’t mean we should let her ruin our good time. I—” he takes a breath and readies himself for whatever may happen next “—I’d like to finish this dance if it’s alright with you.”

Abi doesn’t say anything. Staring up into his face with a contemplative furrow of the brows that he recognizes oh so easily as the same one that he sees on her face whenever she’s deep in sketching. He doesn’t know what it is that she finds, but whatever it is it clearly causes a shy smile to break out across her face. A smile wide enough that he can see her dimples starting to deepen at the corners of her mouth, and his breath can’t help but catch at the sight. “Yeah, I’d like that too. I’d like that a lot actually.”

This time when they both start the side-to-side sway from earlier, it looks far less stiff and stilted than before. Abi never bothered to remove her arms from where they had wrapped themselves around his neck and Nick was more than alright with that, hunching his shoulders down just enough so that she doesn’t have to reach very far like before but even that looks less awkward and more natural due to the fact that it means that his forehead is bent over hers. Nick’s hands are still on her waist as well, just holding her and enjoying her warmth beneath his palms, but even those are starting a southern drift until they rest almost naturally on the swell of her hips. Feeling not her soft skin anymore but the rounded studs of metal on her belts, and yet it’s somehow more intimate. They still make sure to keep some distance between them of course, but it's less Jacob-sized now and more like camper-sized, and even then only Daisy likely would be able to fit comfortably as the smallest of them all.

The silence isn’t suffocating anymore either—listening as Marie Fredriksson sings about voices wanting to be heard and the scent of magic—just enjoying the moment more than anything, but then Abi starts to chuckle lightly under her breath. He can’t quite help (and doesn’t want to, honestly) the wry smile that forms at the sound.

“Oh no,” he sighs dramatically, “what is it?”

“It’s nothing. Just surprised is all that you managed to go through this whole night in that outfit without a single pizza sauce stain on it. Was so sure that you’d leave the kitchen looking like you’d been attacked by a pizza monster or something.”

He snorts. “And that’s why I obviously never wore it in the kitchen, you dummy. Nah, I just made sure to shove it away somewhere safe and then changed into this when the pizza and dishes were all done. Was sort of the reason why it took me so long to join the rest of you guys: kitchen duty never rests and all that.”

“Well, I for one think it was worth it. Don’t know what you put in that sauce but that was definitely the best pizza I’ve ever had.”

Nick pretends to groan as though in physical pain at her statement. “If you think that was what a pizza should be like, then I am so sorry for your taste buds. You savage Americans have no idea what a true pizza should taste like.”

Abi looks up at him as though offended, but the twinkle in her eyes is clearly saying otherwise. “Oh, I’m sorry, and you Australians do? At least we don’t put actual eggs on our pizza.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs, thickening his accent just for the hell of it (but mostly because he knows that it will make her laugh), “and that’s because you guys are once again American savages who’ll gladly put something absolutely terrifying like deep fried butter on your pizza instead.”

Just like he had expected, Abi’s caught somewhere in between laughing and pretending to gag at his joke, and the pleasant flips that start in his stomach only spur him on to continue. “But I was talking about Italian pizza actually. Not even we Australians know how to make good pizza either, unfortunately, only Italians can manage that one.”

That alone is worth it if only for Abi’s sudden snort of laughter. “Oh god, that’s right. Totally forgot that you were part pompous, stuck up Italian, and that you came with all the high class opinions on what real food is because of it.”

He gives a mock, disdainful sniff. “Excuse me, but you should be thanking me and my ‘high class, stuck up and pompous’ opinions right now. You should have seen what kind of food Mr. H was keeping stocked in the camp kitchen before I got here. You’d have been stuck eating slop all summer if it wasn’t for me.”

Abi laughs again, and right on time too. Nick can feel his heart doing its usual gymnastic routine in his chest at the bright, ringing sound of her laughter. The laughter that he so rarely gets the chance to be the cause of, so just the fact that he knows for certain that she’s laughing with him (and not at him like he usually fears) means that the kaleidoscope of butterflies that had taken residence in his stomach at the beginning of summer are absolutely fluttering like crazy as well.

He’s so busy centering on the ever pleasant sensations that always seem to fill him when spending time with his crush, that it takes him a moment to realize that Abi had asked him another question. Only noticing after realizing that she had been calling his name for the last few seconds.

“Shit, sorry. What was that?”

Abi sighed, but it wasn’t without a great amount of amusement. “I was just wondering if you were able to speak any Italian as well?”

Nick shrugs. “Well sure. I mean there’s cappuccino, lasagna, spaghetti, pizza, piazza—ow!”

Abi laughed after having stepped on Nick’s foot on purpose—not hard enough to hurt of course, but just firm enough to make him stop. “I’m being serious right now, you dork!”

“All right, all right already. Sheesh, should report you to Mr. H for physical abuse of your fellow coworkers.” The grin on Nick’s face never fades even as he actually answers her question seriously this time. “But yeah, I can say a few phrases and words I guess. Stuff like hello, goodbye, thanks, ‘where's the bathroom?’, ‘go fuck yourself’. You know, simple and basic everyday stuff like that.”

Abi rolled her eyes but it’s clear even to him that she couldn’t help the grin that formed either. “God, should have known that you of all people would have absolutely memorized all the ways you could swear at someone in another language before moving onto hello of all things.”

“Be a pretty terrible Australian if I couldn’t do that now, could I?”

“Wait, doesn’t this mean that you could have just sworn in Italian the whole summer instead? You had a chance to actually keep swearing all summer unlike the rest of us monolingual idiots, but instead you wasted it!”

Nick snorts so hard that it actually sort of hurts a little. “Oh yeah, cause that’s not obvious at all what I’m really doing. And when all the kids start spouting off actual Italian curses every five seconds just to show off, Mr. H totally won’t figure out which one of us started it. The fact that one of the counselors has an actual Italian last name with the known Australian stereotype for swearing to boot, and not to mention has been heard saying random Italian words repeatedly is just a total coincidence.”

“Hmm. Well, maybe one day when you show me what a so-called ‘actual’ pizza should taste like, you can teach me some of those curses for the full immersive experience.”

The song’s finally starting to wind down now, but Nick’s not paying any attention at all to that. Not when he’s experiencing that rare moment of time again, the one where he swears to god that she might actually like him in the same way that he likes her. That maybe—just maybe—she’s been nursing a little crush on him of her very own. Because she just now pretty much came out and said that she would have had no objections to going out and spending some one-on-one time with him. And normally, this would have been a thought he could easily brush off as just seeing what he wanted to see, but not now. Not when camp is ending in just a couple of short days and there’s no time for them to meet up for a pizza and language lesson before they’re separating to different parts of the country again.

And Abi hadn’t said if he’d show her, she’d said when. As though it was a foregone conclusion to her that of course they’d be meeting up again in the future just for a pizza of all things.

Maybe, just letting her know that he likes her even this close to the end of summer wouldn’t be the worst choice in the world.

The song hasn’t stopped yet, still going through its last couple of repetitions of the title, but Nick has. Stopping the dance well beforehand so Abi can look up at him in confusion just as he looks down at her in trepidation.

“Hey,” he starts off nervously, trying very, very hard not to pay attention to how pretty she looks in her outfit under the atmospheric lighting right now, “can...can I talk to you outside?” If he’s going to actually do this, then he wants it to be at least somewhat private, and right now the wrap around deck outside is the best place even if they’d both be able to still easily hear the music playing inside. He’s not expecting anything crazy or inappropriate to happen, but he wants it to be a moment just for them.

Even if it turns out that Nick got this all horribly wrong and she’s just going to shoot him down in the end.

Abi’s eyes widen in her face and he’s really hoping that it’s a mixture of hope and excitement that he can see shining in her eyes and not anything else. “Oh! Um, yeah—”

“Alright Hacketteers! That’s the last song and I think it’s time for you all to get your butts to bed for the night!”

Immediately, all the lights are turned on and Nick is nearly blinded by how bright the lodge is as a loud chorus of groans and whines erupt from the campers. All aimed completely at Chris Hackett who’s standing just outside his office by the light switch.

“Come on Mr. H!”

“Just one more dance Mr. H, please!”

“But we’re not tired yet!”

Chris shakes his head. “No can do, already let you kiddo’s stay up later than I agreed to, and we all got a big day of cleaning ahead of us tomorrow before I send you all back home to your parents.” He turns his head to look at Ryan who had probably all but gladly extradited himself from his dance with Kaitlyn the second that Chris had turned on the lights. “Ry-guy, while I supervise the clean up here I can trust you and Kaitlyn to lead all these wayward souls back to their bunks for the night, right?”

“Yeah, of course Mr. H. You got it.”

Nick looks back down at Abi from where they had frozen in shock, still with their arms around each other in the dance from only seconds before. Hoping to take advantage of the confusion while Ryan tries to herd all of the still grumbling and complaining campers out the door and back to the cabins, he’s crossing his fingers that he’ll be able to sneak outside with Abi without anyone noticing. That no one will notice that they’re missing while they spend a couple of minutes having what Nick is beginning to think was a sorely needed conversation and confession before joining the others again.

He doesn’t even get far enough to take a step backwards, much less towards the door that leads outside.

“Abi, I’ll need you, Emma, and Jacob to start taking down the decorations and then mopping the floors. Nick—” Chris frowns in disapproval “Weren’t you supposed to switch back out with Caleb a while ago?”

Already feeling the ever familiar sensation of shame, Nick can feel whatever courage he had had already slipping out between his fingers as not only all eyes in the room turn to him, but Abi has already vanished from his arms to grab for the garbage bags. Her face is as red as he’s ever seen it. “Uh, sorry sir,” he apologies nervously as he awkwardly makes his way back to the kitchen with his hands shoved tightly in his pockets, “must have lost track of the time I think.”

Except as he walks into the kitchen with his mood somewhere near rock bottom now, he’s pretty sure he lost more than just the time. He’s getting the sinking feeling that he also just lost his very last chance of maybe becoming something more with Abi.

#asks #nick-furcillo #my writing #the quarry #nick furcillo #nick #nick/abi #furblyg #whoop whoop time to get my first actual quarry fic into the wild lol #also i need to be completely honest #but the when i was reading over all the prompts for this list before sharing them all those weeks back #the second i read this prompt the idea came to me fully fleshed out instantly #i just didnt think i would get it asked though for the very simple reason #that only kenzie really knows that ive been working on a different nick/abi piece since like july #so i laughed my fucking ass off when not one but TWO different people requested it anyways sjdhsdjhfjkhsdf #thank you both for being able to read my mind apparently ❤#also i think its very important to point out that i wrote nearly the entirety of this fic #while eating a chicago deep dish hawaiian pizza like the canadian heathen i am lol #i like thick crust and pineapple on my pizza okay?#and if that makes me wrong i don't want to be right 😔#also also i owe roxette my life for gifting me this near perfect song to use for these two morons slow dancing #every song on this album was a complete banger imo #so realizing that this song actually fit the very exact 80s only songs i was going for was a godsend

29 notes · View notes

most-definitively-a-human · 6 months

Text

If only I could stop wanting for hard won, unreliable things.

I don't know how to stop wanting. It's like disavowing air.

I want to move when I ask my body to move. It's terrifying when it gets stuck.

I want to write. I want to create. I don't know how to stop wanting.

I wonder if it would hurt less to not want these things or if it would hurt more to not have aspirations or things that bring joy, even though those things bring joy only briefly and intermittently.

But hey. I wrote this :D

#words #hey this was phrased somewhat elegantly for once #thank you coffee #what a pleasure it is to articulate #even if what is articulated is unpleasant indeed #(borrowed this from a previous piece of writing I did about Asran - though for him it was understanding not articulating though the two #are linked)#personal log #this will likely be the last vent ish post for a long while I seem to be doing better #who knew that being able to move when I want to move would make the depression that stemmed from a terrifying loss of autonomy diminish #(previous statement was sarcasm)#I love words #messing around with them and playing with them #just so happy I got to do this for a bit #I think I'll be happy even if no one sees this because it was so fun to write #I do hope it makes someone else feel less alone though #but I will be okay even I'm the only person who ever sees it

4 notes · View notes

fist-amidst-the-hands · 1 year

Text

tagged by @blackberrywars to do wip wednesday! does anyone else remember when I said I was aiming for posting a wip weekly? yeah me neither

since I haven’t been writing lately this one is from maybe a month ago, just a tiny snippet that’s (as usual) much bigger in my mind. may or may not write up the whole thing, so I put some additional context / plans in the tags!

—————————-

A simple request. No... not a request. An order. Two words. Quiet at the onset but growing steadily in Izzy's mind, blooming and spilling over to cover every corner.

The whisper of a smile at the corner of Ed's eyes meeting the desperation swimming within them. The soft pair of footsteps padding from above deck to below contrasting the heavy pounding of Izzy's heart echoing in his head, the intensity threatening to shake apart the blossoms that had so recently taken residency.

All of it sharp yet muted, loud yet far away.

#ofmd wip #blackhands #izzy hands #edward teach #wip wednesday #thanks for the tag!#okay time to provide some context. in preparation for that: i have NO idea why this phrase kicked off a whole Thing but at the time I was #very much feeling that intense !! need to write this down feeling #in my mind this is post s1e10 when babygirl is in his kraken era. peak destructive blackhands with basically izzy giving ed whatever he #needs to get through this (for them to both get through this) which has been translating to violence pain rage etc.#they're no longer conversational and haven't been for weeks. ed is a shell of himself who is somehow both hollow and filled with raw power #untamed emotional turmoil letting itself out in unhealthy ways (we love to see it)#izzy knows to make himself available when needed but only when needed. nothing between them is light anymore #the vibe is very much ed commanding and izzy obliging. but it's draining. it's so draining on both of them #one day ed just doesn't have the energy for it anymore (and it's about fucking time because izzy has learned to make himself flexible when #it comes to ed who's rigid and unyielding but even izzy can only take so much bending before he breaks)#I think he just wakes up one morning and is done with the whole thing. he's miserable and he's over it and he wants (needs) a change #so then this piece of the wip is the start of the change. ed goes up on deck one morning - early which is unusual for him these days - and #goes up to izzy. holds his gaze (yes this is the bit of a smile and also the swimming desperation part) and gives his next order: 'shave me'#it's long overdue at this point tbh. anyway the shaving scene itself would be absolutely intimate just so so emotionally charged #strangely close and gentle and *tender* even after all those months of nothing but sharp teeth and searing pain #also izzy is for sure straddling ed's hips and leaning over him to shave (ed's order) and being so focused and careful about it in that #izzy-acts-of-service-hands way. i don't know yet if they have some kind of soft spoken conversation #if tears are involved or if they just remain in silence but comfortable silence #i don't think it's a huge turnaround of everything is okay now but I do think it's the beginning of change #okay sorry lots of tags as usual but that's probably enough #who knows if the rest of it will be officially written but that's where this was headed #how's this for a writing tag #+ tags!

4 notes · View notes

actiniumwrites · 7 months

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

synopsis: wriothesley finds out you have a crush on someone and somehow manages to guess it’s on literally everyone but himself

characters: wriothesley x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: fluff, a tiny pinch of angst and insecurity, my poor attempt at humor, slight miscommunication, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, swearing, first time writing for wriothesley so he might be ooc

notes: i almost made this angst to fluff but then decided i need to stop adding angst into literally everything i write (even though there’s like a tiny pinch of angst in here too 🙄). anyway, wriothesley is a lot harder to write than i thought he would be so i apologize if he seems ooc here

“Heard you gotta crush on someone,” Wriothesley teases as he walks into his office where you sit on one of his couches. You don’t even hear him walk in, too engaged in the book you were reading to pass time until you had to go through hundreds of inmate records to find something Neuvillette had requested.

His declaration is so sudden it almost makes you spit out the tea you had stolen from him.

Your eyes go wide as you stare at where he moves to lean against the front of his desk, arms crossed and waiting for an answer with that stupid smirk of his, “Hey now, that tea is expensive, so don’t go wasting it, okay?”

“Who told you about that?” you press for answers, a hint of anger in your voice as you ignore his previous statement about the tea. He had plenty to spare anyway.

Wriothesley’s smirk widens a bit, “So it is true.”

Damn him.

You don’t even bother trying to make an excuse, knowing your best friend all too well. He’d pick apart your words like weeds in a garden, finding meaning in them that you hadn’t even intended.

“And what if it is true?” you cross your arms defensively, glaring at him from across the room.

“At least tell me who it is,” he says as he rests his palms on the wooden desk behind him. When you don’t give in to his pleading, he playfully scoffs, “Oh c’mon, I’m your best friend! It’s kinda an obligation for you to tell me these things.”

You turn away, fixating your gaze on a nearby wall adorned with some weird painting he had hung awhile back, “Oh yeah? Since when? Last I checked there aren’t any rule books for being friends with someone. I don’t have to tell you a damn thing.”

“It’s Neuvillette, isn’t it?” he smiles knowingly. Perhaps that was why you were always the one receiving tasks from the Chief Justice instead of him — a guess at best, but enough evidence to convince him Neuvillette was the one.

No, you idiot. It’s you.

You snap your head back toward him, “What? No! I don’t like Neuvillette…not like that, at least. He’s nice and all, but I don’t think I’d be able to date the guy.”

“Damn, I really thought I had that one,” Wriothesley mumbles in defeat, pushing himself off the desk and instead moving to walk around the room as he thinks. It scares you. The fact that he’s so particular with facts and little details that it’s only a matter of time before he collects all the pieces to the puzzle and figures out he’s the one you like. What would he say when that happens? “Too nice, huh? So you like someone a little colder, then.”

Damn it, he got you again!

You don’t answer him.

“Not even going to try to deny it?”

“No,” you grumble to yourself, slumping further into the couch, “you’re only going to dig further anyway.”

He gives a satisfied hum, “Right, so it’s Clorinde then. I mean c’mon, we don’t get a lot of visitors, so it has to be her. She fits the description too.”

You exhaustedly sigh and swipe a hand over your face dramatically, done with his antics, “It’s not her either. And there is no ‘description.’”

He perks up in a way that makes you way too uncomfortable, “Navia?”

“No, I’ve never even met her aside from like one time two years ago,” you refute, sliding further down on the couch to fully lie down and shut your eyes, “I don’t get why you’re so excited over this.”

Wriothesley thinks for a moment before squinting his eyes, “Don’t tell me you have a crush on a prisoner?”

You teasingly peek an eye open while leaning back to look at him, “And if I did?”

“You better not,” he warns, pointing a stern finger at you like you were a prisoner and not his coworker.

You laugh to yourself at his sudden change of mood, “Relax, I was only joking!”

“Not funny,” he says unamused, prepared to pull out the prison’s rule book and slap it over your head if you did, “I’m really runnin’ out of people here.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, “thousands of people live in Fontaine. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

You really hope he doesn’t.

The following ten minutes consist of Wriothesley irritatingly pacing around the room and mumbling all sorts of names to himself. Some of which you recognized, others you had never even heard of before. And, despite all of your countless no’s to his guesses, he never gives up. Nor does he realize the answer is right in front of him.

“Just give it up already,” you finally interrupt as he stops in front of you.

A heavy sigh falls from Wriothesley’s lips as he collapses onto the couch, narrowly missing where your legs were outstretched. Defeatedly, he lays his head against the back of the sofa, shutting his eyes as he thinks a little harder. “Oh my god,” he says suddenly, head shooting up to look at you, “…don’t tell me.”

No way. Did he figure it out?

Your breath captures in your throat as his eyes flicker back and forth between your own, searching for some sort of truth. He knows. Your best friend knows that you have feelings for him — and not just the platonic kind.

His brows furrow and his face morphs into one of disgust. It makes your heart drop; the way he’s looking at you.

He doesn’t feel the same way.

“I can’t believe it,” he clicks his tongue in disgust, crossing his arms and turning his attention away from you, “you like Furina.”

Your jaw drops to the floor and suddenly you don’t feel bad anymore, “I actually can’t believe you just said that. Archons, I think you need to visit Sigewinne. I mean, seriously! Furina? Of all people!”

He grins and shrugs carelessly, “I don’t know? She was the last person I could think of.”

“Something is seriously wrong with you.”

“Clearly not so wrong that I couldn’t figure out that the person you actually like is me.”

“Oh please, I don’t even—wait, what? You knew?!”

A boisterous laugh erupts suddenly as you stare at him with wide eyes. You sit up on the couch quickly, slapping his shoulder as he continues to laugh, “Sorry, sorry!”

You don’t find it amusing, “I—when did you figure it out?”

His laugh eventually subsides into a drawn out sigh and his blue eyes soften a bit as they gaze into your own, “I’m not an idiot, you know? I wouldn’t be running this place if I was.”

“Right,” you mumble awkwardly, averting your gaze from his, “so, um, were you just doing all that to lighten the mood so you could let me down easily or…?”

“Or…what?” Wriothesley mocks you, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, “don’t make me say it.”

He spares you, luckily. It’s unlike him, but he doesn’t care to joke with you any longer when the subject is so serious, “Yes, I feel the same way. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, I totally wanted to hear you say you hate me and want me dead,” you say sarcastically, trying to fight a smile.

“I’m being serious, I really do like you,” Wriothesley presses, ignoring the way you’re becoming awkward from the nervousness floating in the air.

You finally exhale the breath you had been guarding in your chest, relieved that this didn’t go as horribly as you once thought it would.

The alarm sounding for dinner goes off after and you both stand from your places on the couch, “So what do we do now that that’s out of the way?”

Wriothesley falls into step next to you, holding the doors to his office open to let you out first, “We have our first date in the cafeteria, of course.”

Your face drops and you stop in your tracks to glare at him, “That better be a joke.”

He laughs it off quickly, not thinking you’d take it so seriously. Eagerly, he grabs your hand tightly in his as he pulls you to the exit of the Fortress, “Relax, I’m just teasing you! You deserve only the best, after all.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n

7K notes · View notes

yueebby · 8 months

Note

sooo i read your "indulge me?" piece and that's why i wanted to ask for gojo simping for reader that doesn't really seem him as more as a friend and he's fine with it (lol he's not but he's need to keep the facade you know???) hope you write it at some point! btw loving you writing so far <333

11:34pm — gojo satoru

contents. highschool!gojo, fluff, he’s so in love bye, underage drinking, tokyo and kyoto students have a little get together!

“what’s wrong with him?” utahime watches her white haired underclassman down another can of beer. it was rare to see gojo drinking with the rest of the group, always opting for a soda instead.

shoko takes another swig out of her drink, unsurprised. “[name] is on a date.”

a pathetic groan leaves gojo’s lips and the upper half of his body is splayed over the kotatsu in shoko’s room, sunglasses long forgotten somewhere. he lets out an unapologetic burp. everyone at the table spares him a glance of pity.

utahime grimaces and mutters a quiet, “gross”.

“don’t provoke him,” geto scolds shoko, flicking some ash from his cigarette to the ashtray below. “she’s just dealing with clan matters. arranged marriages and whatnot.” he used his free hand to land a firm pat on gojo’s back. what kind of best friend would he be if he didn’t try to comfort satoru?

“poor thing. i can keep you company in the meantime,” mei mei’s smile is far from something with good intentions. gojo shakes his head to refuse, but with the way his forehead was pressed to the table, it looked comical. like a child throwing a tantrum.

the only thing that managed to get gojo satoru out of his drunken slump was a soft knock on the door. he could recognize that pattern anywhere. could it be–? the snow haired boy immediately perks up. his drunk dazed eyes brighten as he quickly makes his way to the door.

geto snorts at the way his best friend reacts. he thinks he can see an imaginary tail wagging, as if he were a dog.

“you’re late!” gojo accuses you when he opens the door. you blink.

“are you…okay?” your voice is laced with concern as gojo’s large frame towers over you. gojo preens.

“awww, is my [name] worried about me now? don’t worry, ‘m doing just fine!” there is a goofy grin painted on gojo’s face as he leans against the doorway. all conversation has stopped and every sorcerer was listening attentively to gojo's hopeless conversation with you. utahime can’t help but feel just a little compassion for the boy. he was pining so much it hurt.

“i wasn’t worried. it's just that your words are all slurred– don’t tell me you let shoko talk you into drinking with her again?” you sigh. it was hard to miss the smell of beer on him. gojo and alcohol never mixed well, and the last thing you needed tonight was another lecture from yaga.

from inside her room, shoko shouts, “it wasn’t me this time! the idiot decided to drown himself in beer after we warned him not to!” it was common knowledge that gojo couldn’t handle his alcohol.

the male in question pouts.

“can a man not grieve about the love of his life being married to another?” gojo deflates. on the other side of the threshold, you wrinkle your nose.

“who said anything about marriage? like hell i’m going to accept a proposal from naoya zen’in.” you grumble. it had been a long night. dealing with your family and naoya was enough to scare you into staying in jujutsu tech for good. you’d rather lose your sanity to gojo than your dignity to naoya.

“never mind that though, are mei mei and utahime still here? i was hoping to catch up with them!” you smile, crouching under his arm to make your way into the room. gojo doesn’t hesitate to trail right behind you.

“[name]!” utahime waves happily at you, her mood no longer sour after she sees you. your wave back is enthusiastic. mei mei acknowledges your presence.

“how was dinner with naoya?” suguru asks. your face pinches up. he laughs before handing you a cold can of soda which you accept graciously.

you hear gojo mutter to himself from behind you.

“what’s up with him?” you whisper to suguru.

“you know how he is when he drinks,” he sighs, ushering you to sit beside him. gojo seemed to have his own agenda though, forcefully squeezing himself between the two of you. you shoot him an annoyed look to which he responds with a grin on his face.

“‘m tired,” he whines, stretching his arms dramatically while letting out a loud yawn. you grunt when there’s a heavy weight on you; gojo has thrown his entire body on your side.

you don’t bother pushing him off. you’ve learned in the two years you’ve known gojo that he is like a baby when he gets drunk. it’s best if you let him have his way.

“go to sleep then, idiot,” you flick his forehead. he juts his bottom lip childishly, looking up at you with wide eyes. his eyes are captivating and you think you see nervousness through those azure orbs.

“will you come to bed with me too?” he rests his chin on your shoulder. you raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“eh? why would i?”

“because i’m cute.” gojo bats those long eyelashes of his innocently. you roll your eyes playfully before taking another sip out of your soda.

“you’re weird– that’s what you are.” your lips quirk upward, eyes twinkling with mirth. he sulks, chin still comfortably supported by your shoulder.

“‘m not that bad!” he protests, a frown forming on his lips. you look at him for a long moment. this was the first time you’ve ever gotten to look at gojo this closely.

his hair was getting longer, you note silently. with your free hand, you slowly move a strand of hair out of his face. gojo watches you earnestly. if his cheeks were not already flushed, they are now.

“can we stop it with the flirting? let us single folk live in peace.” shoko speaks up. you turn your attention hastily from gojo to the rest of your fellow peers.

“i feel like i’m intruding on something,” mei mei says scandalously. your eyes widen.

“we are not– no way!” you shake your head repeatedly. no one believes you. especially not while gojo is still resting on your shoulder, eyes watching you, full of love.

“stop giving him all your attention and talk to us! we’re much better company,” utahime scowls, pointing her beer disapprovingly at the white haired boy on you. you think you hear gojo grunt.

“alright, alright,” you concede.

“i hope you don’t mind me asking again, but do tell us how your night with the zen’in kid went,” suguru snickers. you groan exasperatedly.

“where do i even start?”

the rest of the night goes by pleasantly. you had been so engrossed with retelling your experience with dealing with your family that you had failed to notice what gojo was up to. by the time everyone left their respective dorms (or temporary dorms), you noticed the head of white hair sleeping soundly on your lap.

he mumbles something in his sleep, nuzzling himself closer into your stomach. cute. you giggle at how innocent he looks.

you don’t know what took over you, but you remember bending down and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. to your surprise, gojo reciprocates your kiss. to the best of his capabilities anyway. you watch as he puckers his lips in his sleep. oh my– how precious.

you suppose he isn't so bad.

notes. THANK U FOR BEING MY FIRST ANON ASK. ily!!! i saw somewhere that gege confirmed gojo would have drunken failures when he was a student haha this is my take on that. hes so bf

also thank you for all the support on my first post?!? you guys are too sweet im crying. i literally giggle and kick my feet reading your feedback ><

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #jjk x reader #remember spring days!au

7K notes · View notes

myname-isnia · 1 year

Text

I wanna draw my girls but I don’t like any ideas that come to my head and I’m sick to death of my WIPs ;-;

#the curse of never being able to finish anything leads to 3/4 of my procreate gallery being wips #also my deep dissatisfaction with the way my art looks makes drawing one hell of a chore #which sucks because I love doing it #but I hate 99% of my pieces #there is something incredibly off about most of them #I think the only one of this year’s pieces I actually like is the maria reynolds portrait #same with writing tbh #I haven’t finished anything in over a year what kind of a writer am I #and I’m not even busy I spend most of my time doing nothing but talking to myself #and reading back my old work makes me want to kill it all with fire #even the stuff I wrote fairly recently #ughhhhhhhhhh why am I like this #okay google how do I actually start liking my work this is getting ridiculous #I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:#I wish my girls were created by someone more competent to tell their story #I always feel like I’m failing them somehow #and they’re not even real ffs #and yeah yeah I’ve improved loads compared to when I was just starting out #but I haven’t improved enough and it’s pissing me off #which makes no sense because I’m taking no steps to improve #I never do exercises or practise stuff I’m bad at or anything like that #I even quit my fucking art classes and abandoned wanting to go to art school #all I ever do is whine #god this is pathetic #I want to yell and scream and vent and burn things and chuck my tablet at the wall at the same time #*deep sigh*#there I go again #making myself upset over nothing #sometimes it feels like I enjoy suffering because I literally go thinking self deprecating things on purpose #who tf does that???

0 notes

earthtooz · 7 months

Note

Wrio the slay calling reading clingy so reader sleeps on couch …😊 thx

x : DISTANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: you overhear wriothesley calling your affection too much, so you respect his wishes and give him some space. yet, why does he not seem like it?

warnings: 5.6k words (why did it get so long), hurt/comfort, gn!reader and wriothesley are married, pet names, no spoilers but set in canon, misunderstandings and miscommunication af, slowburn??, you might tug your hair out at some parts lol sorry, fluff with angst but happy ending, it gets emotional.

a/n: okay this was definitely not my favourite piece, i was experimenting with writing styles and writing in an omnipresent pov... so sorry if it feels clunky at some bits. overall, i'm pretty happy! also sorry for not sticking to the original prompt

Perhaps today was a bad time, you think as you leave the Fortress of Meropide, anxiety churning in your stomach and doubt weighing on your mind. Despite Fontaine’s sunrays shining brightly upon you, you feel anything but warm.

What started as a visit to your husband with kind, wholesome intentions of delivering some lunch to him on your day off ended with a visit that left you riddled with questions. Coming at a time when he was in a meeting nearing its end, you didn’t even get the chance to speak to him, yet his words rattled around your head, replaying like a broken disc.

“How are you and your spouse?” A rich voice echoes from his office, door slightly ajar signifying that whatever discussion was happening within was coming to an end.

“Y/n and I? We’re amazing, thank you,” Wriothesley answers. “I’m always happiest whenever I’m with Y/n.”

The company, who you have realised is Monsieur Neuvillette, responds. “That’s good to hear.”

“Although, Y/n has been quite… affectionate recently, to the point that it’s borderlining too much-”

The conversation is drowned out by a ring of an alarm on Wriothesley’s desk and the atmosphere from his office suddenly grows in tension. The voice of the two men turn from relaxed to alarmed in a matter of seconds, and that is when you decide it is probably time to take your leave, lest you intrude on whatever emergency has happened.

Dropping the lunch you brought for Wriothesley at reception, even the receptionist was confused by how quick your visit was since they typically lasted for an hour- even longer since Wriothesley likes to push the amount of time he gets with you. They don’t question it, though, merely nodding in understanding when you tell them to drop it off for him on your behalf.

Has Wriothesley always thought of your affection as too much? If it was overwhelming him, why didn’t he tell you? And why Neuvillette, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, of all people? You understood the nature of their relationship- how they both tend to confine in each other with whatever they are troubled by, but why couldn’t your husband come to you about this directly? You made an oath on your wedding day to be fully honest with each other and to never hide anything. Where did that promise go?

Arriving home with a heavy heart, you immediately flop onto the couch, arm covering your eyes as tears sting the corners of your eyes. Perhaps it’s time you lessen your displays of physical affection before you drive the love of your life away.

Wriothesley, looking down at the contents of your boxed lunch, feels his heart warm in his chest at your display of care. How fortunate he is to have someone like you, he thinks before eating, satisfying his hungry stomach that has been aching for food since half an hour ago. He wonders why you didn’t see him personally and dropped it off instead, he would have liked to eat with you beside him.

Whatever the reason, he’ll make sure to drop by your favourite bakery to purchase some conch madeleines as a thank you.

When he returns home later in the evening, you’re asleep on the couch, curled up with only a book on your chest to protect you from the chilly air seeping into the house. Wriothesley quickly lays his coat over you, bookmarking the page you were at before retreating to change into more relaxing clothes. You still have not roused when he returns and as much as it pains him to disturb you, he doesn’t want you napping too late lest it disturbs your sleep schedule.

“Y/n?” He gently shakes you. Slowly, you come to wakefulness, eyes fluttering open as you gaze up at your husband.

“Wriothesley? You’re home?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes whilst slowly sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Nearing six in the evening.”

“Oh my! I didn’t mean to sleep that long! I’ll go get dinner ready, you should rest, you must have had a long day-”

Silencing you with a warm kiss to your forehead, you don’t melt into it like you usually would, his words from earlier slamming back into you like a brick. He doesn’t notice the way you tense, merely brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll cook,” Wriothesley offers, grabbing something he left on the table behind him. “Have some madeleines I bought for you whilst you wait.”

He places a bag of the baked goods in your hands and you smile at him, lips chapped and eyes still drowsy, yet Wriothesley thinks you’re the most beautiful being to ever exist.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” The dark-haired leaves you with another kiss to your temple before turning around to go into the kitchen. However, you stop him with a tug on his wrist which you drop almost immediately when he turns around, acting as if his skin was an open flame that licked you.

“Darling, you have a sticker on your arm.” You reach up to grab the piece of adhesive, ripping it off him in one smooth motion.

“Those melusines,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For how much Wriothesley scolds them, he cannot bring himself to actually get mad at them, letting the little creatures play pranks instead of reprimanding them.

“I’m surprised they keep getting by you. Maybe you need to sharpen your instincts.”

“Quiet, you,” there’s no bite to his words.

“They put a little crab on you,” you giggle. “Must be going through an ocean-themed sticker book. You had a little shell on you yesterday.”

“I did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I find it funny.”

He sits down beside you, dinner momentarily forgotten. “Do you now?” The dark-haired murmurs. “Turns out my own spouse is against me also.”

“If it brings me amusement, why not let the melusines play their pranks a little longer?”

“You are an awful influence,” Wriothesley winds his arms around your torso, pushing you down into the pillows of the couch. There, you almost sink into him, lured by the warmth of his embrace, but the memory of what you overheard sinks into your gut like an icicle, and your smile fades.

You pat his shoulders in surrender. “Shouldn’t you be working on dinner, dear? It’s already quite late.” You pray he doesn’t notice the way you have suddenly altered the mood, drying the playful atmosphere.

If he does notice, he doesn’t comment on it, getting up with a groan before retreating into the kitchen.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

There’s a whistle from the doorway to your bedroom, low and appreciative, and the culprit is no one other than Wriothesley. He walks towards you, draping himself over your figure sat in front of the mirror. “Where are you going tonight?”

“Clorinde and I are going to dinner together,” you tell him nonchalantly, as if all of his weight wasn’t on your shoulders right now.

He pouts. “When will you be home?”

“Not too late, that’s for sure. We’re meeting at the other side of the Court of Fontaine, though.”

“An evening without my love, whatever shall I do?”

“You’ll live,” you smile before raising a necklace up to him. “Help me put this on?”

With a huff, he raises himself off your back and gently takes the jewellery from your hands, careful with the jewels that adorn it. His cold touch grazes against your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine as he successfully clasps it together. When you meet his gaze in the mirror, it’s full of adoration and admiration, and you have to busy yourself with your hair lest it flusters you too much.

Standing up, you swiftly walk out of the bedroom and towards the front door. Wriothesley trails behind you without much thought. “I’ll get going now before I’m too late.”

“Do you need me to accompany you there?”

“It’s alright, thank you for offering.” Disappointment floods him like an ocean as he watches you put on your shoes. With one final fidget of your clothes, you deem yourself presentable and turn to him. “See you tonight, darling-”

“-Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” Your eyes widen in alarm as you begin frantically patting yourself down. “I brought my wallet, keys? They’re here, what am I forgetting?”

Wriothesley pretends like your cluelessness doesn’t hurt more than it actually does. He taps his cheek. “A kiss.”

“Oh, of course. How could I be so careless?” you laugh, the corners of your eyes scrunching with delight. Wriothesley has a remark resting on the tip of his tongue but it quickly dies when you step forward, anchoring your hand on his chin before you press a kiss to his cheek; to both cheeks for good measure.

“Love you,” you murmur when parting.

The desire to keep you home is a burning one, and pleads of ‘stay’ threaten to spill from his mouth. There is nothing more he wants than to be in your arms, to cling to you until the weekend is over in the blink of an eye, but you are your own person, and no matter how needy he is, Wriothesley should not stand in the way of your fun.

“I love you more,” he sighs, holding open the front door for you. “Be back soon.”

“I’ll try. Bye dear!” You blow him a kiss before walking out of your garden.

He watches you leave with a heart heavy with longing, closing the front door once you’re out of sight and tries to sigh the feeling of emptiness away.

Later that night, Wriothesley greets you the second he hears the front door being unlocked, urgent strides allowing him to turn the corner just as you open the door, looking as pristine as you did when you left. There’s a small, tired smile on your face, but you look happy, blissful expression brightening when you see him.

“Hello, love,” you say, slipping your shoes off.

“Welcome back,” he says, embracing you with one, muscular arm whilst pulling you in for a kiss. Your hands unusually fly up to hold his shoulders and Wriothesley thinks he’s imagining the way you push him slightly, as if trying to get him out of your personal space. Yet your grasp on him was so tight, creating temporary divots in his skin that he doesn’t really know what you’re trying to do.

Why are you trying to push him away in the first place? The thought of you not wanting him near is upsetting enough to make him unknowingly tighten his grip around you, causing you to stumble into him from the momentum.

You look up at him, shocked whilst he gazes down at you with a storm of terror gathering in his eyes. For the first time since the two of you got married all those years ago, a rift forms.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Whatever occurred that night isn’t a topic of conversation, ever. The two of you retreated to bed after a quick conversation of how your evenings were before devolving into other topics, like what the week ahead had in store, restaurants you two should visit sometime, new boutiques and bakeries you’ve been hoping to explore- little chats that hold more meaning as the days roll by.

During it all, there was an undeniable heaviness to the conversation that made it slightly uncomfortable. Wriothesley cannot remove the memory of how you tried to push him away and you cannot forget the shocked look in his eyes. The more you picture it, the guiltier you feel, heart sinking in your chest.

You thought that it was what Wriothesley wanted: more space from you, an opportunity to breathe without you overwhelming his space.

So why do you feel so bad about respecting his wishes?

“What a lovely view!” You exclaim excitedly, running toward a patch on the grass that sits a few metres away from a nearby beach, the sound of waves meeting shore a soothing lullaby and a testament to how calm the day is. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you’re out on a picnic with the love of your life.

“Here’s a nice spot to set up, what do you think, Wriothesley?” You ask.

“Sounds amazing, darling,” he responds, setting down the picnic basket when you’ve laid out the blanket. You sit down with an unglamorous huff, leaning back onto your hands to let the morning sun soak into your features.

Morning picnics were one of yours and Wriothesley’s favourite date ideas. The best time to be together was before the sun would rise to its highest peak, bearing hot sunrays that make everything uncomfortable for everyone. Fontaine’s sun is never merciful either, which is why the nation is perfect for diving and all other water-related activities, but when you are simply walking around, it becomes rather suffocating.

The Fortress of Meropide’s administrator takes a seat beside you and you indulge by resting your head on his shoulder, hoping that he isn’t uncomfortable under your touch. The dark-haired hasn’t shaken you off yet, so you keep resting against him.

“How did you discover this place?” You ask.

“Siora told me of it, said that a passenger on the aquabus was talking to her about it. She thought that it sounded like a delightful place to take you to,” he answers and you can’t help but smile, fiddling with your fingers.

Melusines and their wholesome ways. You’ll find a way to thank Siora later. “How kind of her and how fortunate for us.”

“I take it you like it here then?”

“I love it,” you tuck your legs closer to your chest and Wriothesley leans back on his arms as well, letting your hands rest beside each other as the sea continues to crash on the shore before you. There are seals resting nearby too, ships pass by here and there, and seagulls stop near the two of you before flying away, but the only thing that matters to Wriothesley is you leaning on his shoulder.

Sharing with him the breakfast sandwiches you packed, no words are exchanged, merely the sound of waves crashing against the shore occupy the tranquil silence. It’s not until a few minutes later that Wriothesley speaks.

“Will you be visiting me at the office today?” He asks.

You tear your gaze away from the horizon. “Perhaps. Do you want me to?”

“Would I really be asking if I didn’t?”

“Please, forego the sass, your grace,” you snort and he rolls his eyes, an affectionate smile pulling on his lips.

“Seriously though, I would like you to. You know how dreary and boring weekends at the prison get, would be much better having you there.”

“Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, grinning. “Would you like me to bring lunch with me or shall we go find a place to eat?”

“How about takeout? Hey wait, now that I think about it, why didn’t you stay the other day when you brought lunch for me? I would have much rather seen your pretty face than the receptionist’s.”

You ignore the butterflies blooming in your stomach because of his compliment. “An emergency happened just as I reached there. I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of it, so I left.”

Confusion shines in his eyes, his expression giving away the cogwork ticking in his brain as he tries to pinpoint what emergency you could be referring to. When the pieces click, his eyes widen a little. “I see. You did the right thing, my love,” he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll visit you today,” you whisper, toying with the hem of your clothes as you wait for his response.

“Amazing. I’m looking forward to it, then”

You stay true to your word, walking down the path you recognise like the back of your hand. The guards need not think twice about welcoming you in, guiding you straight in the direction of Wriothesley’s office.

Since being with him, you’ve grown less and less afraid of how daunting the Fortress can feel, adapting to the chill knowing that there is someone in there who will set himself ablaze to keep you warm. Yet, today you walk in with apprehension clasped around your ankles, threatening to pull you under with each step.

It’s ridiculous, you know Wriothesley would never turn you away or shun you, but the mind is the worst enemy and yours can’t stop replaying the conversation you overheard weeks ago. You know Wriothesley could open those heavy doors of his and greet you with something more grim than loving and cast you aside, and you have to hold your breath when the guards knock on your behalf.

Your heart skips a beat when they push open the doors, revealing your husband crouched over his desk, hands mussed in his hair to keep them out of his eyes. He looks up at you and the way a smile manifests on his features is akin to that of fire melting ice, fatigue dissipating as you step inside his office.

“Hello, dear,” you greet, tone soft and controlled, unlike the thrashing of your gut.

“Hi,” he stands up and takes great strides towards you. Naturally, you open your arms for him; unnaturally, you merely hug him instead of greeting him with a kiss. Wriothesley keeps you locked in his arms as he digs his nose into your neck and you feel the way his eyes flutter close against your skin.

“Long day?”

“Draining too,” he murmurs.

“Oh dear, we cannot have your grace tired, whatever shall we do!” You gasp overdramatically, clearly poking fun at him because you are perhaps one of the only people who could do so in this entire building.

The dark-haired accepts it and doesn’t bother to correct your use of formalities. Instead, he retracts his head out of your neck to look at you with hopeful eyes instead. “You could give me a kiss.”

“Did you do anything today to earn it?”

“I need to earn my kisses now?”

“You should shut up sometimes,” you murmur before placing your hands along his jaw, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He smiles against you, biting back a quip when his hand comes to the base of your neck, holding you against him. You can tell he needed the proximity, judging by his little exhale and the way his shoulders slouch, so you let him take his time and ignore the nagging in your heart.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Wriothesley is losing his mind. He has been since you left the Fortress of Meropide, and was left to freeze in the ache of your lack of affection. A goodbye kiss is customary between you two and when you didn’t give him one before leaving, it felt like a slap to the face. He would have much rather you just slapped him, actually, so what gives?

You’re not rejecting his advances, but you’re not explicitly initiating anything either. Does that mean he should back off, too? Did he do something to upset you, and if so, when? All this thinking and speculating is making him feel like a pathetic headless chicken who can’t even talk to his spouse-

“-Wait!” You exclaim, just as he was about to grab the knob to the front entrance and step out. Instead, Wriothesley turns around to be greeted by the sigh of you frantically scrambling to him, and his heart can’t help but come alive, silencing his thoughts.

Stopping to a slide before him, he can’t hold back a soft grin. Despite just wrangling out of the claws of sleep, you’re so breathtaking, delicate in the mornings when no one else is around but him. The dark-haired is grateful that only he is able to witness you like this, that you trust him with this vulnerable side of you.

You don’t meet his gaze, eyes pinned to his chest instead. “Your tie is crooked,” you murmur hands reaching out before he even gets a chance to look down. “Let me help you.”

How can he deny such a kind request of yours? You’re gentle with him, undoing his knot and weaving it together until it looks proper, but Wriothesley couldn’t care what his tie looks like. You could be making a total fool of him and he wouldn’t care, too entranced by your glow to tear his eyes away from you. There’s a little scrunch in your forehead as you concentrate, mouth slightly parted and you’re not oblivious to his gaze either, too familiar with the intensity of it to get shy.

Finally satisfied with your work, you let go, patting his shoulders and smoothing out any wrinkles in his garment. “There. All done.”

“Thank you, dear,” he murmurs.

Wriothesley is expecting a kiss from you, waits for the moment that you’ll rise onto your toes and place a peck on his lips to fill him with some energy for the day. He waits for the familiar feeling of your lips pressing against his, and waits for the rush of adrenaline that your touch always manages to ignite.

Except it never comes, and it hurts most to confess that some part of him preempted this. You step away from him without another word, or kiss, and his heart burns at your retraction, unease fluttering the lining of his stomach when you turn around to retreat into the living room. Wriothesley moves without thinking, a hand coming up to your waist to stop your steps as he forcefully pulls you back to him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one far more intense than the ones you usually give this early in the morning.

You notice the desperation that bleeds from him; a certain fervour uncharacteristic in situations of morning domesticity.

There’s a bright glimmer of surprise in your eyes when he pulls away, as if he had kissed away all your fatigue and shocked wakefulness into you.

“Have a good day at work,” you murmur, barely able to choke the words out.

“I will,” he replies, opening the door. You stay and watch him go, still trying to recover your breath over his passionate display of affection.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day his racing thoughts get to him is the eighth day of this strange treatment of yours. At this point, he’s become insatiable, barely able to hold it together as you remain in the centre of his world. He wants your affection again, he wants your displays of love, he wants you near him so badly that it’s driving him up the walls of the Fortress.

It’s irrational for him, a grown man, to skirt around his problems as if he was a teenager. For some reason, Wriothesley has no issue locking up and containing some of Fontaine’s most dangerous criminals, yet when it comes to you, he becomes a lovesick fool who craves everything his partner can give.

You still are not initiating any displays of affection, keeping to yourself unless it is him acting first.

But after being locked in his own study for hours, unable to distract himself from you when he was really meant to be reading some new court documents from Neuvillette, he snaps. Pushing his chair out with more force than necessary, he searches for you in the living room, where you are curled up in the corner, reading.

“Is everything alright?” Wriothesley’s interruption shocks you, and you jolt your head up to meet his gaze.

You are met with the sight of him leaned against the wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest. “Why wouldn’t they be?” You ask, not letting your gaze linger for too long on his arms before sitting up just a little straighter.

“Dunno. Just double checking.”

“Okay,” you hum softly, nodding. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” How could you switch this up on him so quickly?

“Yeah.”

“Fine, amazing, just dandy.”

You raise an eyebrow at your husband, not truly believing him but you decide it’s best not to press on. “Alright… but if anything is wrong, don’t be afraid to tell me.” You go back to your book and your hair falls perfectly in front of your face to hide it from him.

Wriothesley shifts his weight from one leg to the other, trying to find the words to speak up and ask why you were acting so weird. It’d been two hours and twenty-four minutes (and counting) since you last saw him when he disappeared into his study, were you not concerned for him in the slightest? Sure you dropped off a plate of fruit and refilled his teapot with hot water, but normally your check-ins would be a little more frequent, and a little more encouraging than just a morale boost through food.

Where was the cheek kiss you always gave him before you left?

Deciding not to press on any further, your husband sighs before leaving, his arms and heart feeling emptier than usual. You are only in the next room, but why do you feel like you’re on the other side of Teyvat?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day Wriothesley snaps is the day Sigewinne asks him to be nicer to the guards of the Fortress because his foul mood is darkening the already glum prison. His subordinates must have sent her knowing that he couldn’t possibly lash out at her, and they were right, but she really didn’t need to comment on the way his veins have been more prominent recently, or how creases are forming on his forehead from how hard he’s been scowling. To top it off, she said that he should delay the appearance of wrinkles for as long as necessary, because there’s a good chance they’ll come earlier than he wants.

He’s not even a day over thirty, and yet, he is being reprimanded for ‘ageing’. But he knows the problem, and he’ll be damned if he lets it drag out for another day.

“Welcome home, baby-” your greeting is cut off unceremoniously by your husband, who practically drags you into his embrace, closing you in with no space for you to breathe or move. Your cries of alarm are muffled against his chest, and he easily picks you up before striding the path to your shared bedroom. There, he all but throws you onto the bed, your neck resting on the pillows as he climbs on after you. “Wriothesley?”

He shushes you.

“What-”

“-I need this,” he wraps around you like a vine and breathes you in with the fervour of a man starved.

When you try to shuffle away from under him, or at the very least sit up, Wriothesley groans, borderlining a growl as he tightens his arms around your middle. You don’t question or disobey his wants, merely sinking your head into the pillows in understanding that he must have had a particularly rough day.

So instead of repelling his touch, you give in and let a hand snake up to his hair, playing with it as you let Wriothesley lay atop you. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders melts away, and the way you’re scratching his scalp is enticing him to rest, except there is a barrier keeping him from reaching a haven of dreams and he won’t rest peacefully until he’s broken through it.

“Why have you been so distant lately?” He garbles, voice a lot shakier from the usual stoic Wriothesley that you are used to.

You heard him loud and clear, but a pathetic ‘pardon?’ slips past your lips.

“I said, why have you been so distant lately?” This time, he’s firm, determination seeping into his tone as a hand of his sneaks out from underneath you to search for your hand. After patting around, he finds it and holds it gently, raising it to press a long kiss to your knuckles.

It’s silent. You don’t have anything to say in response and it’s past the grace period where you can give an excuse and make it sound like the truth, and Wriothesley looks up at you with expectant eyes. There’s hurt in them but as much as you’d like to mend the heartbroken expression of his, admitting the truth is difficult, because it has eaten you alive, gnawing at your heart for days on end.

“I…I don’t have it in me to tell you,” you murmur quietly, looking away and slipping your hand out of his, but Wriothesley is tired of this dance of yours and chases after your touch, this time roughly grasping your wrists. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you rooted.

“I didn’t do anything, did I?” He asks, raising your hand to his cheek.

Your voice is quiet when you confess. “If I said you didn’t, I’d be lying.”

The dark-haired stiffens. “What?”

“Nothing,” you cough.

“No, Y/n, be honest with me here.”

“You’re going to laugh at me, or find me ridiculous.” Wriothesley’s heart clenches at your admittance, frowning at the fractures of insecurity piercing you like glass, but most of all, he hates that he can’t stop you from feeling this way. “I thought what I did was what you wanted.”

“Which was?”

“Some distance, just- not me crowding your personal space all the time.”

“Why would I ever want that?”

“I can get overbearing sometimes, and I don’t know, just assumed that would annoy you.”

“You’re not telling me everything, I can tell something happened to make you feel this way. Please, darling, just tell me the truth. I promise you I won’t judge or think differently of you.”

You sigh. “I… I overheard you and Monsieur Neuvillette the other day- when I dropped off lunch. You said that my affection was sometimes too much, and that I was making you uncomfortable, so I thought that you wouldn’t want me to be around you anymore. I didn’t want to drive you away so I, y’know…”

Confusion fills him stomach like water and it takes a few moments before it hits him, the memory coming back to him. You heard his conversation out of context- he wasn’t complaining about you, no, quite the opposite, but it just seems that you weren’t there for the parts that mattered most, and now you can’t even bear to look him in the eye.

“Honey, please look at me,” his voice thins into a vulnerable whisper that pleads for you to glance his way so you can see how he is head over heels in love with you.

When your gaze finally meets his, he almost cracks under the weight of your sadness, and it dawns upon him that you can’t feel the adoration he holds for you, dripping from his heart into your hands. You can’t see the mountains he’d overcome just to end the day resting in your arms. You don’t know the extent he would go just to win your love.

It’s a fact that kicks at his knees, shuns him down and bruises his heart. If the Fortress of Meropide has taught him anything, it’s that there is no point holding your feelings back from living fully. There is no point to contain the human heart that has every desire to live with others, he has seen the sorrow of prisoners saying goodbye to loved ones, and how they dwell over words they should have said. Even his own time as a prisoner taught him so, because everytime he sat behind those bars, the faces of people he should have been more open to kept him awake at night.

Wriothesley would rather drown in primordial water than see you, the most important person in his life, hurting over his own negligence. You have been feeling half-loved because of him and he doesn’t know how he can make it up to you.

“You misunderstand. I wasn’t talking about you negatively, I was talking to Neuvillette about how loved you made me feel that way, and how grateful I am to have someone like you as my partner,” he confesses earnestly, eyes pleading for you to believe him.

You blink at him, comprehending his words carefully. “Really?” You ask.

“I would never think otherwise,” he whispers.

As if a weight was lifted from your shoulders, a smile pulls at your lips and suddenly, a laugh spills from them, causing your expression to scrunch up with joy, looking the most lively Wriothesley has seen you in a while. He laughs with you too, just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you confess through dying fits of laughter. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that, how stupid.”

He shakes his head, “you have nothing to apologise for, you’re not at fault. But I beg you, never hide things like this from me again and tell me whenever something bothers you.”

You nod, “I will.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Never ever think that I want to be away from you,” Wriothesley grumbles, hiding himself in the crook of your neck. “That was the worst week of my life.”

“Sorry for putting you through all that.”

“Stop apologising.” He demands. “Just, no more secrets.”

“I love you, Wriothesley.”

He sighs shakily, relief tangible in his tone. “I love you more.”

A damp patch forms on your collar bone right where his tears would fall, and you place a kiss on his forehead for each drop you feel on your skin. There is still much to discuss, much to mend between the two of you, but his hands run along your skin like he’s trying to memorise and mark you, so you never doubt his devotion again.

*sighs and puts hands on hips* i don't really like that ending either so don't judge lol

#genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x reader fluff #wriothesley x gn!reader #genshin fluff #genshin x reader fluff

6K notes · View notes