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diasomnia-dreams · 2 years

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If there’s a prize for rotten judgement | Idia Shroud anthology story

- He ran the Underworld But thought the dead were dull and uncouth, He was as mean as he was ruthless, And that's the gospel truth..

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“Diáole…” the older Shroud cursed in Greek, his half lidded eyes set upon the skull shaped alarm clocked which was manufactured and programmed by himself.

The cold metal kissed his pale and slender digits and the young man slightly winced at the touch. Mentally cringing at himself for falling for such a ‘normie mistake.’

With a spine popping stretch, Idia twisted his hips while he sat up shirtless in his tangled covers. Bones popping and hair slung to the left side of his shoulders swaying with each movement the heir to the house of Shroud made. And while he remained attempting to focus on the newly adjusted environment around him, The quietness of the lack of beeping, static drumming and interfaces making auditory sounds was still something to get used to.

Ortho was already awake and downstairs, bright and early per usual and most likely not being in the same dorm room with him anymore and now officially enrolled as a student at Night Raven College .

But currently it was Spring Break, hence meaning Ortho had many more school friends to spend time with and not enough time for his big brother…(even though Idia insisted that Ortho went along with his new found friends).

‘Dont worry about lil ol’ me Ortho! Im not doing anything special for break. Go spend some time with your friends LOL, I’ll be here grinding on Star Rouge.’ Idia would tell him.

And while Idia was happy for Ortho, of course he was happy. Any good big brother would be leaping for joy and ecstatic over their baby brother’s accomplishments and that’s exactly what Idia was. But his dorm room was kind of lonely now, and Ortho was hanging out with his new gaggle of friends. Idia wondered if his baby brother had time to even pop his head through the door for a little visit once in a while.

But Idia still didn’t mind. As long as Ortho was happy. As long as his brother was doing what he wanted, was safe and finally a true student at this wretched school, what could possibly be better than the happiness of Ortho?

Idia Shroud’s flaming blue locks emitted brightly as his brain reminded him to check the calender. Usually Ortho would remind him of the date and upcoming events occurring during the week. Idia’s gaming schedule was out of wack and while he wasn’t necessarily a slacker and a procrastinator when it came to school work, lately he found no motivation to proceed with his studies. He was tired and bored of the mundane life he was leading.

He grabbed his smartphone with tricked out enhancements which was placed under his pillows, and entered his seven digit password: C-E-R-B-E-R-U-S.

The light turned on the lowest of brightness and he began to swipe through magicam. He never found the app charming. He was more interested in gaming chatrooms to converse with his fellow nerds and not the ‘normies’.

His fellow Night Raven College mates living it up on their Spring break whilst he was in the Underworld. And though it seemed like the Isle of Woe was some sort of façade which hid the true nature of fellow citizens of this dreadful place.

It was beautiful on the outside, a land of lush green grass, doric and ionic columns and an abundance of pillars and water fountains. There was also the underside which was made up of S.T.Y.X, where Idia would rather think about for another day.

The Island of Woe, not only is home to his family’s multi-million dollar company but holds something bigger in it’s wake. Idia didn’t bother investigating but something within his soul everyday during his Summer Break ached him to go seek out the mysterious calling. He always knew his family held secrets and his parents were one of he most powerful business owners this side of New Thebes, but he didn’t care enough to ask them.

He scrolled through Ace Trappola’s news Magicam story because it was the first thing on his timeline. It was a cringey sight to say the least. Watching Deuce, Ace, Y/N and Grim run around a sprinkler aimlessly and laughing hysterically while Riddle Rosehearts and Idia’s fellow third years, Trey and Cater spray the freshman with water hoses to keep cool from the beaming sun of the Queendom of Roses. Idia’s dark blue eyebrows furrowed when he watched the first year’s story.

“This is the gaggle of newbs that Ortho hangs out with…” Idia muttered to himself. He licked the top blue painted lip and scrolled by and proceeded to finally throw his legs over the right side of his bed and stand up. Taking one big stretch before striding over towards his computer monitors in his black sweat pants. His shirt hanging on the back of his gaming chair which was closely resembling the undershirt he wore under his science lab coat back in class.

Powering on his monitor, Idia waited for the startup screen to load and the familiar three triangles which are stacked up on top of each other appears on the loading screen. His lips curve into a slight smirk before feeling his phone vibrate once more against his thigh.

Dreading the notification for whoever was on the other end, but once the older Shroud brother noticed that it was no one but his mother, his nerves relaxed slightly for she was letting him know that she and Ortho will be out for the day running errands. Leaving him with his father, Lord Shroud, who would be boring Idia with discussions about work, the STYX company and Jupiter enterprises. More oil and blot talk, something else Idia would rather skip.

Sending a single: K. To his mother, Idia proceeded to click through the desktop of his computer. His heart doing small flips and his lips slightly tremble. His large hand gripping the computer mouse as his golden eyes danced across the computer monitor.

Idia spends half of his morning in the same spot, crouched over his computer, staring down. His hair covering the left of his face due to the lack of grooming and attention he’s given it this morning. The heir to the Shroud estate snatched his shirt off his chair and threw it over his head and slid his arms through each of the sleeves before exiting the comfort of his bedroom and into the vast and long dark hallways of his family’s mansion which eerily resembled the dark depths of the Underworld in the stories of old.

He didn’t mind the aesthetic, thinking that it closely resembled the domain of a final boss fortress.

Trudging down the hallways of his doom and gloom excuse of a mansion, his feet kissed the dark blue porcelain floors. His eyes shifted to the left and right hoping that his father would not notice his presence of being awake. If he was quiet enough, he’d make it downstairs towards the garage without having to discuss how school’s going or the talk of future S.T.Y.X. work.

Much to his luck, he was able to slip through the elevator and click the lowest button to the bottom-most floor before one of the Charon Ferryman could enter next to him. Although he was not alone in the elevator, another attendant of his father’s company stood idly by. He looked to be about his age and was at least the height of Floyd and Jade Leech. He kept his head down but his S.T.Y.X. identification card was visible on the left side of his chest which read Phobos Kynikós.

Idia scoffed to himself. ‘His name is Panic Cynical…’ he could almost laugh out loud literally at the corny name. And while Phobos refused to make eye contact with him, Idia noticed that he probably did have something on his mind.

The elevator, which shot down at a great speed and opened on the second to last floor. Phobos strolled out, his teal colored hair bouncing as he took his leave. He was anxious and while Idia had experience with that sort of emotion, he couldn’t fathom why someone would be nervous around a guy like him.

Idia waited till the doors closed to exhale. It was a pity not to hear Ortho explain more about his recent adventures with his newfound buddies this morning. And at this moment, Idia wondered what his younger brother was doing. And when rhe elevator descended to the deepest depths of the Shroud mansion, he exited through the double door’ed elevator and was greeted by an abundance of vegetation, flowers and all forms of life.

Seeing such a sight was a contrast to what the Island of Woe truly was. There was hardly anything like flowers and the like around here. Everything was dead, or artificial in a sense and dark with a twinge of cobalt blue. The only true natural thing around here was the bodies of water which surrounded their island.

The flowers brought out a different aura, a different feeling in the low garage that the entire island needed. Life.

The smell of sweet sweet flowers filled Idia’s nose and the fragrance was subtle, feminine and sweet. He sneezed.

And when the sneezing fit ended, he figured he had a clue what exact was the culprit for the hoard of blossoms in bloom. A gentle almost timid smirk was fixated Idia’s blue lips and he leaned against one of the ivory colored Grecian sculptured columns.

“Per? You can come out now.” A figure slowly emerged from the shadows.

“Is anyone around?”

“No one is here,” he reassured her, his voice dropping to a new calm at the sight of her. He wasn’t surprisingly anxious or fidgety. It’s like she nulled it out, like some sort of elixir from Space Rogue.

She was exquisite. He loved everything about her, from the crown of silver flowers she wore in her curly black hair to the dark eyes that offset her brown skin. For the first time ever, he even noticed clothing. He couldn’t help admiring how she favored cobalt blue for her gowns over drab whites. Today’s dress was clipped at her waist with a floral silver belt. “Where’s Ortho?” she asked. Her dark brown lips pursed into a line. “Better yet, the F.A.T.E.S are coming over soon. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

Sounding timid for the first time since he’d met her. They were similar in that sense. She was a stowaway ,not belonging to the Island of Woe at all.

She was anything but a wallflower. She was fiery. He loved that about her most of all. He glided over and put his arms around his back. His voice slowly starting to grow louder than usual,and for some reason around Percy, Idia did that. His anxiety lowered but his voice higher and he was far too excited than he anticipated.

“I’m on my way in to see him right now. I don’t want you to worry. I thought you were going to go do that thing to take your mind off all that.”

“I am,” she said with a smile. “You’re going to love it.” He doubted that, but he wanted her to be happy.

“The F.A.T.E.S literally come every so often to discuss work and business with my dad…probability rates about the future of S.T.Y.X. and the entirety of the island” She nodded and wound her arms as far as she could around his waist.

Idia froze in place. His heart quickening, he swore he was on fire. No—he was pretty sure. He had fire coursing through him which was now different from anytime he had ever caught flames within.

“I know.” Percy knelt down and grabbed handful of her flowers that she was growing. And twiddled through their dark blue petals. “But it would be ideal to be there with your dad…to help him and figure out the future of S.T.Y.X…you will be CEO soon.”

“Tch, you’re one to talk Per.” Idia rolled his eyes. “You left your entire family just to stick around this Underworld.” Idia shook his head and his enflamed locks bounced.

Percy threw her flowers down and stared Idia in the eyes. “No, I left my entire family just to stick around you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on what the feeling was. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t hate, it wasn’t even envy. Was this what all those lovesick cringy protagonists were always going on about during in-game dialogue? Was he in love?

It sure felt like it, and if that were true… He was done for. And yet—he could not deny how nice it was to have someone to talk to after all these years, someone besides his online gaming partners, and his dear baby brother Ortho who he of course did not mind talking to in the slightest.

She came from the brightest of places, New Olympus. She was daughter of Demetra the self made businesswoman of one of the largest landscaping and vegetation companies this side of Twisted Wonderland. And while she didnt have to be friends with him, Percy went all out her way to run away from home, just to be near him. Which Idia still couldn’t understand. It made him queasy and it made him wonder why someone as beautiful, outgoing and so put together would want him.

Idia would hate to keep Per in a sunless place. A world where plants and vegetation didnt thrive like she’s always known. Down in the land of the dead. Dark and gloomy, dreary and sad.

But she made his future seem brighter, which he thought would have been impossible after the entire overblot ordeal. But when he loves so much, when he puts so much into his life and slowly but surely it all comes back to nothing. It was all for nothing. Idia was afraid. He loses everything dear to him, prematurely. Why fall for someone better yet care for someone unless he was dying to cry his heart out when he loses them?

Idia refuses to have Per fall to victim of death and loss. He refuses to have her life be taken down to Charon’s ferry so early. So he planned on doing what any person in love would do. He’ll keep her by his side at any cost. Even if it means to keep her down in this underworld for all eternity, from the sun.

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my oc in this story Percy is twisted from Persephone the Goddess of Spring from Disney’s Goddess of Spring film. this fic is mildly referenced from Hades and Persephone’s relationship in both Goddess of Spring and the original Greek story where Hades is obsessed with persephone and wants to marry her at any cost, and Persephone is in love with Hades as well and rebels against Demeter, her mother and falls in love with the God of the Underworld.

i hope everyone liked it <3

thank you to Ms Jen Calonita for the inspiration from Hades’ character in Go the Distance

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cryiling · 1 year

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link who's a kpop idol and revali who says he hates link to his irls but runs a whole goddamn stan account for him

SO TRUE revali is out here making gif sets of link and dissecting all of his lyrics but he would absolutely deny this to like.. urbosa and his other irls

im apparently incapable of coming up with my own plot ideas so im gonna take inspiration from a personal favorite of mine 🤭 im getting blueberry eyes vibes from this prompt, like what if revali posted like, kpop dance covers or smth and he streamed himself learning dances, and link, during a break from one of his schedules, comes across revali's channel and watches his streams, and he's really impressed! because it's a super hard dance, like guerrilla or something. so link subscribes (with his anonymous personal account sjdbsjf, so it's not obvious that he's a famous idol) and keeps coming back whenever revali goes live. and revali recognizes this anonymous username as a regular viewer of his, and so occasionally they'll have a conversation through the chat box. and revali learns that link dances too! (he doesn't realize that link is the original artist for several of the songs revali has covered) and so they talk about dances and kpop for a bit which is fun goodbye my ideas are so bland

ANYWAYS yes revali is also running a stan account for link. tbh I'm not super familiar with a lot of soloists so I don't have a great example of what kind of an artist link would be. even though I've talked about him being a hip hop dancer here and here, I think if he were a soloist I'm getting jimin vibes from him? like esp face era, the more contemporary vibes of like crazy along with the powerful vocals of set me free pt2, I rlly feel like link would have that all-rounder vibe with an emphasis on angsty contemporary yk? but occasionally he'll do a fun song like pop or gogo just to vibe, which is honestly so slay of him

when link has a comeback, first revali streams the fuck outta the mv, like it has 2M views in the first 12 hours and revali is definitely responsible for half of those views. haters are talking about how much the song sucks or whatever and revali is in the comments on ALL those posts defending his fave to the max 😭 after he's done doing that, he starts making gif sets and reblogging fanart ppl made. then he writes an entire essay on how this song changed the industry and how link is more talented that anyone else's faves. meanwhile urbosa is like girl stop fangirling in your room come outside and touch some grass 🤨

then after that, revali goes live to start learning the choreo for the title track (which is actually insane because the song just came out a day ago and he's learning it based on one fancam from the comeback stage). and link sees him learning his dance and is like literally so impressed bc?? it's a very hard dance and he has to admit that revali is talented by learning it just from one video

hm idk where to go from here. pls give me ideas 😊🤞

#im so sorry I've been struggling with writing and coming up with good plots so I feel rlly bad that I couldn't contribute more 😭#but this was so cute to think abt ✋#amiharana #usually idol x fan aus are not my thing but this got me imagining revali going to one of link's concerts and as link looks out into the #crowd he locks eyes with revali and recognizes him as the super talented dancer and they both blush #this au has me all delulu 🤭#anyways yes pls give me ideas!! I have no more ideas and would love someone else to come up w a better plot!#revalink #revali #link #botw #breath of the wild #loz #legend of zelda #crow's revalinkverse #me being So Normal about this game

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stormyoceans · 1 year

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Talay had never really wondered what “bliss” meant. He was usually too busy with work or drinking with his friends to bother with such a vague concept. But now, here, lying in Puen’s arms, holding him close--there was no other word for it. Puen’s face was buried against his chest, where he planted the occasional lazy kiss. Talay rested his own chin in his hair, taking in that soothing scent as he let his fingers brush through every now and then.

Yes, this was bliss; that feeling of pure, carefree fulfillment and satisfaction, where the very notion of responsibility couldn’t reach even Talay, not now. For once, there was no schedule to disturb their dream. They could stay in bed all day if they wanted. After all, this wasn’t their bed. This wasn’t their room. They were in a hotel by the European coast, far removed from their daily obligations. Their only task was to enjoy their honeymoon. Talay wondered if Puen could feel his heart’s joyful bouncing as he recalled last night’s events. Since then, the man tangled up against him was no longer his fiancé. Finally, they were newlyweds.

That thought was enough to keep Talay in the embrace for… actually, he had no idea how long. Behind the curtain, the sun had risen higher. He might’ve dozed off again. Puen hadn’t moved, but he was awake. Those lips were working overtime.

“Puen,” Talay muttered into his hair.

“Mm?”

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Puen’s grip on him tightened ever so slightly. “You.”

“C’mon, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Talay’s cheeks turned that colour he once loathed so much. God, this man’s libido. Although he had no room to talk; he couldn’t even recall how many times they’d made love last night. He remembered surprising even Puen with his enthusiasm. But it was a special occasion. It was fine. Puen definitely didn’t mind.

“There’s time for that later. I’m hungry.”

“I don’t mind if you eat, so long as I can keep holding you.”

“You need to eat too.”

“Then will you feed me?”

“Puen,” Talay chastised, but he grinned when those cheeky eyes met his own. Puen leaned in and Talay happily kissed him.

“Do you know how we used to count the time we were apart?” Puen asked after he pulled away.

Talay nodded. “Why? Do you still do that?”

“No.” Puen pushed him back so he could roll on top of him. His face was glowing. “I made a new counter. Now, I can count how long you’ve been my husband.”

Husband. Talay’s cheeks warmed again. He really and truly was this man’s husband. Talay felt like the luckiest man alive, but he knew Puen would argue the title belonged to him instead, like the lovable dork he was.

“And how many seconds have you counted so far?” he grinned. His hand had shifted from Puen’s hair to his neck.

“Not enough,” Puen simply said, and he threw the blanket over them both, blocking out that incessant sun as they locked lips once more.

IM DEAD IM DYING IVE NEVER BEEN MORE ALIVE I COULD KILL GOD I AM TRASCENDING THE MORTAL PLANE IM EMOTIONALLY SPIRITUALLY AND METAPHYSICALLY ON A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF EXISTENCE THIS IS THE SINGLE MOST PEACEFUL BEAUTIFUL JOYFUL IN CHARACTER PIECE OF WRITING I'VE EVER READ

“I made a new counter. Now, I can count how long you’ve been my husband.” LITERALLY THE MOST INSANE PARALLEL IM GOING THROUGH EVERY SINGLE TYPE OF HUMAN EMOTIONS I NEED TO GO TOUCH SOME GRASS AND BECOME ONE WITH THE EARTH TO COME DOWN FROM THE SHEER EUPHORIC UNHINGED RABID ENERGIES THIS ONE LINE GOT ME GOING ON I NEED A MENTAL HEALTH INTERVENTION TEAM TO SEDATE ME RIGHT NOW IMMEDIATELY

#VERA JUST SINGLEHANDEDLY KEEPING MY VICE VERSA BRAINROT GOING #ALSO I LIED HAVING FICS ABOUT THEM IS DEFINITELY MAKING ME WORSE #and not to sound pathetic but i just had two of the shittiest most stressful days at work #yesterday i turned my phone off got home and cried myself to sleep #this was the first thing i saw after logging back in today and suddenly i was crying for a whole different reason #so like. literally don't even know where to begin to express how much i love you and how grateful i am for you #vice versa #vice versa the series #puentalay #vera9 #m: ask

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onetuffbunny · 2 years

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the moon is a sliver in the night’s sky

i’ve been sitting in the woods looking up at it. you have to moonbathe sometime. it’s beautiful. there’s too much light pollution to stare at the stars most of the time but the moon, at least, is close enough that you can see it. it gives me time to think. it’s hard for me to think most of the time. this isn’t me sad posting. you don’t want to see that and i like to give people want they want from me. it’s just what it is. i don’t know. my head is a noisy place.

i used to be too scared of the woods to do it very long but i’m not scared of bears anymore

the dark’s soothing. i’ve never been a creature of the day. i get migraines. my sleep schedule’s fucked. i’ve never had many daytime jobs. i like to stretch out in the grass and i don’t care if i get muddy.

i’ve been thinking. i don’t know what i’ve been thinking about. i feel more than i think and i don’t know what i’m feeling. i don’t know what day it is. i know it’s not the weekend. i’ve lost all the markers of how i used to count the days but it’s fine, i guess. i’m not sad posting about being a vampire. i'm really not. it’s just something that happened. it’s not even in the top five worst things in my life. it’s just an event.

i’m not sad posting about my life either because when you consider all things, i’m doing pretty alright. i feel some sort of way about a lot of things but the thing is, feeling some sort of way is just something that’s going to happen. you get born and then bad things happen and then good things happen but neither of them kill you until they do. you just have to roll with it. when things are bad, then they’ll get better eventually. so i’m not sad. i just feel some sort of way. you’re allowed to feel some sort of way. i think more people should feel some sort of way.

i used to be in a pretty bad place. i didn’t know how to take the bad with the good and i was bogged down like a swamp. i was angry all the time. you can’t be angry all the time. it makes you sick in your stomach. anger’s just fear anyway that you wear in your fists. i was either going to be angry forever or i was gonna have to learn a new emotion, so i decided to just get real weird with it instead. it’s worked out for me pretty okay except when it hasn’t. i have glitter in my pocket and i have left secret messages all over the place for future generations to find. i am an urban legend. people will look at my work in years to come and put me in books about unsolved mysteries. i hope they study me. i’d like to read their thesis.

i hope you know by now that i mostly just spout off a lot of random shit because i like to hear my own words and you should not take anything i say very seriously because i sure as fuck don’t but guess what, fuckers, it’s 2021, i’m allowed to do whatever i want because them’s the rules

i should go in. i don’t know how long i’ve been out here. i feel like a critter. maybe i’m a werewolf. maybe i’m an enigma. maybe i’m just 37 and rambling on the internet is what i’ve chosen to do with my life. one of them’s probably true.

i don’t miss old me but i do miss his real fuckin great beard. can’t grow that shit now. body’s fake. i mean like i don’t want a beard anymore but i’m kinda pissy that i’d have to like go get my glamour edited to get one, so it’s the principle of the thing. i hit puberty waaaaay too early. i looked like a grown ass man as a freshman. i am saving a fortune on razors, let me tell you.

not sad posting, im beard posting

(i don’t want a beard btw my presentation is way different now)

anyway like you learn a lot being in the woods, looking at the moon. i’ve heard all sorts of birds. i’ve touched leaves. i’ve eaten a few. do you ever just dig up clover and suck out the grass juice inside because i sure have. i don’t know if that’s healthy. i don’t care to know. i’ve been collecting acorns into tidy piles for nefarious purposes. i am a witch and that means i can do what i want. i’m going to start a coven and we’re just going to show our abs to the moon.

anyway i’m going inside now because there’s some anime men i need to catch up on. gotta make sure my husbands are okay. you know how it is.

-moon, 2021

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faeryarchives · 2 years

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AERIEE HII YOURE BACK!!

how are you?? ohoho have you heard of alchemy stars? I started playing it but I also downloaded ensemble stars and now I'm super burnt out sobbing

I hope you're doing amazing aerie!! and I hope you have a better sleep schedule than me 🙏🙏 (been sleeping at 6am and waking up at 2pm)

🧋

IM HERE IM HERE YEYEYE HELP ME THATS TOO LATE U SHOULD SLEEP EARLIER LIKE maybe around 2 am or 3 😭 but i hope you are also doing well hihi

i downloaded alchemy stars before and it is really good although my phone cant handle the storage anymore and i always forgot to log in too 😭 ABT ENSEMBLE STARS PLS i need to touch grass bc of the event skull emoji but if you ever feel like playing again you can add me ueueueu 🙏

#aerie talks #boba anon!#random talks with anon

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unorthodoxdeity · 2 years

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that last post didn't scratch the itch im making a long post. all my thoughts. all my opinions. my life story. this literally does not matter and is paragraphs of bullshit but i dont want to feel like im operating with a filter so im putting it out. your regularly scheduled programming will resume shortly but for now this is happening.

Okay so I've been in fandom spaces for a while. They've morphed and changed quite a bit. I think they have all the same problems just manifested differently. It also feels more isolated. They feel quieter. I don't know if it's because most of my fandoms are dead and I havent adapted well to whatever else is happening but it feels like fandom culture is on its deathbed in a way. Well not fandom culture as a whole, that will always exist in some form. I think its moreso just a metamorphosis mixed with me being into older content with smaller followings. This is just my view. I have zero wider perspective on what the whole is like. I couldn't tell you of any big places to talk about fandom related things that aren't vaguely tumblr and twitter. There will always be dedicated pockets of something. This is just about my pocket. The whole it's more isolated thing is also probably just my problem.

I've seen the shipping debate happening my entire time here. It's always existed in different ways. I think there are a lot of ways you could define both sides. I think there are a lot of things both sides have to argue over. It depends on the person and how they view the debates really. I know a lot of people define it on terms of harassment and others define it on terms of what they're morally okay with harassment or no harassment.

I'm not going to attempt to pin definitions on either side currently mostly because I just don't care. I think that miscommunication is what stifles a lot of progress though. There isn't reslly much to progress to either way. People will do what they think is right and its not like there's any solid achievable end goal for either side (in my eyes, someone might have a reachable goal idk).

I've been involved with the debate a lot. When I was like 10-12 I was a proshipper by definition I guess. I didn't call myself that. I didn't care I just shipped what I wanted.

When I grew a bit older and started getting involved with more online debate I became an anti. I actually called myself that one. I don't know what flicked the switch. I think I was turned off by the gung ho "I'm going to draw fucked up shit for shock value" attitude a lot of proshippers had. It was the whole "these damn puriteens" "get minors off the internet" and general talking down to people who had legitimate concerns thing that ruffled my feathers looking back. I know most proshippers are not like this. I also know a lot of it wasn't for shock value.

There were a lot of reasons people did the things they did. Some were coping, some were approaching it with the same attitude I had when I was 12. A lot of them were sick and tired of people trying to talk down to them with their concerns as if they had the full moral highground. Nobody really likes the holier than thou attitude unless they agree with the person I've found which is reasonable. Who wants to be told what to do?

That carried on. I debated with people with the same high horse that I hated on other people. Then I got tired. Every time I opened my phone my heart was racing it was so dumb lmao. Arguing was like crack. I eventually realized that and just stopped. It wasn't just the shipping debate I was involved in those stupid identity politics and was involved with more important actual politics and debating homophobes and people who were probably trolls. Probably not the healthiest thing in the world. Did not do my health any favors. One day i just stopped.

I don't know what flipped that switch I think I just tuckered myself out. I didn't go on social media much. I went outside and touched grass as I had told so many people to do. The grass was nice. The sun was shining and there were even trees and real people (woah).

Then quarantine eventually happened and I was inside and online. I wasn't in my old unhinged frenzy though, I actually went back and deleted all of my accounts to start from scratch. I had no opinions on much fandom discourse and the opinions I did have I just kept to myself. I still saw things that pissed me off but that wasn't my problem.

I downloaded tumblr again after like years. Joined fandom spaces. Once again was faced with that old discourse. Ironically enough a ship I had enjoyed was confirmed to be incest and I was in such a quarantined haze at that point I just said fuck it and forced myself to agree with proshippers and quite literally abandoned any moral values I had. Looking back that was so funny. I never treated it like a fall from grace. I treated it like a fuck you.

It wasn't that dramatic or anything. I wasn't punching the air and seething when I saw either side. I was moreso just doing what I wanted because I could and happened to interact with proshippers so I just like called myself that. I became more involved with their values and oh boy my horse is getting higher!!!

I think that's just a problem I have when it comes to any sort of debate. I get really full of myself. That's fucking annoying I know. Anyways as I was flexing how cool and subversive I was I realized I wasn't having fun anymore. That happened any time I got too wrapped up in an ideology. It was no longer about the thing it was about the approach to the thing. I did a similar thing with identity politics. I wasn't me I was my labels.

I feel like this was a really bad representation of how I was as a proshipper. I kind of framed it as me intentionally agreeing with them but it wasn't just that. It was like another flip switched but it was also moreso me swallowing my pride and that pride getting replaced with a different kind of pride. I wasn't in as much as an unhinged frenzy because I had set rules on How I can debate. (No debating after 9pm, you can not respond if they don't respond in under 10 minutes, if you call them names you have to stop ect.). It was tamer because I had to learn how to be tame and I did. It worked. The rules started to become more rigid and my urge to debate almost depleted.

I stopped focusing outward and returned to how I was when I was 12 almost. I shipped my fuckshit and had an occasional gloat about my moral superiority over those damn antis. Nothing really special for a twitter user.

I made friends during my stay in both communities. They were all good people. None of the people I befriended threatened anybody or did anything you heard from those horror stories. None of them were pedophiles. They were just opinionated nerds most of which had trauma that guided their opinions. You were also bound to be outcast if you disagreed with them though. It's how relationships formed based off opinions go, especially online.

I don't talk to any of them anymore, there was no fight we just drifted apart. That was okay. I can't say my stay in either community was better or worse than the other. I think most of it was determined by my self control. How much I would indulge in being vile to someone and having them be vile back in retaliation. I did forget to have fun along the way in both though.

I've come to the conclusion I don't necessarily like being part of any community. I don't like the culture of either.

For starters I don't like how people on both sides will accuse the other of being pedos (proshippers accusing antis of projecting, antis accusing proshippers of being pedos because of fiction). It's just baselessly throwing around something that's become a buzzword.

I don't like how a lot of fetishization gets wrapped up in the proship community (specifically towards trans people). I don't like how poppytwt formed (i know a lot of proshippers agree with me on this one) or rpf. I don't like how both sides call the other cult like because it's also baselessly throwing buzzwords around. The comparisons of legitimate real world issues sparked by religious institutions also rubs me entirely the wrong way.

I don't like how some antis feel the need to "punish" proshippers. It's not your place and once you start hurting real world people over fiction you're just making yourself into the badguy in the situation. I've also seen proshippers intentionally go out of their way to give antis similar treatment. Equally dumb. Neither community is a hivemind but yknow. Those sour apples exist everywhere.

I think i just generally don't like being told what to do or dictated. Yes that's childish I know.

Idk I think both have their reasons. Like yes it's just fiction and yes fiction does have impacts, I think those can coexist. When it comes to harassment I don't think that's cool in any context when it spawns from fiction. That probably makes me a proshipper in a lot of people's books and like if that's your framework of viewing it cool.

I think I've just chosen to like. Win the game by not playing. I'm not either purely because I choose not to be and just do what I want outside of that. That's probably annoying. Which is fair.

I don't hate people that choose to allign themselves with either side they're not like less than or anything. If you're not going around harassing anybody then you're always chill. Like idk just because I find the debate annoying and tiresome doesn't mean I find most people like that. If that makes any sense idk. Moreso to say its my problem not yours. Like most of my distaste for debate comes from what I've experienced due to my own lack of self control.

It also kinda feels like running with a filter though. Like I'm so worried about getting back to that point I avoid saying half the things I want to say. Then that leads to a little burnout of its own because of some weird obligatory feeling.

I think most ppl here are chill like nobody is too wrapped up in their own ideology that they stop having fun like I was. Their opinions are the side dish not the main course which is respectable and difficult to do if you struggle with your horse getting some fucking Growth Spurts like I do.

I don't know why I'm posting this here exactly. I think its to show where I'm coming from and removing the filter ig. I think I've generally gotten better at containing myself that I can say things and not feel the need for it to spiral into a month long debate with someone. The horse is off steroids ig. I acknowledge that I'm still probably very unlikable to a lot of people which is fine it can be offputting no matter where you lean.

Okay thoughts organized into very chaotic long post back to blorbo shitto posting

#long post #discourse

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meeverywheresblog · 3 months

Text

Aging

Hi. It's me again. I remembered today this account randomly when I thought that I would love to write down what I think about life. I know I said I'd post here weekly or daily and that never happened. I completely forgot about this account and I never wanted to write down any thoughts. However, here are we now.

I wanted to update me since I realized now that I have a remembering issue. I don't know how my brain works but I don't remember promising myself to post here or anything. I remember finding this account at some point but I thought I never posted again.

Since I want to buy a new notebook to write down my feelings and thoughts but I don't have time/money to do since, I have decided to use this account now.

A quick update to myself so I would never forget:

I moved out a new apartment during the same year. I believe I moved out in Oct or Sep not sure. It is way better than the first 2 apartments I used to live in.

I couldn't find love since people are very sexual and weird over there.

I touched the grass and lived the moment since I have double my salary now when I decided to resign from the company I used to work at. I bought new clothes, I dyed my hair in a way that makes me look like a cool version of me which is not true. I am not that cool.

I go to new places, I stopped violin courses and I didn't go to the gym or signed for dancing classes.

The only things that happened to me in my own brain and the new thoughts that are controlling me are:

I don't want to work my relationship with my family. I feel like it's now seriously over. I don't miss my mom, I don't want to see her. I even don't remember her on a daily basis unless she sent me a msg. We have a crowded month in the work so we decided to have only 1 day off and the whole plan got changed and we still have 2 day off. I'm still leaving my mom under the impression that I have 1 day off so we won't meet. I don't know why would like to meet her. I don't have things that I want to share. However, I will meet Aunt Hala today and I think about talking to her about these stuff. Not sure what will happen.

I stopped talking to one of the closest friends to me. I won't share her name here in case we won't talk again only bec I would like to know if in months I opened this account again will remember her? or will we be friends again? not sure what will happen and Ill leave it to future me to live the moment.

I'm now 22 and in 8 months I will be 23. For some reason I became more aware of my age even though when I wrote down now that Im 22 it felt like Im so young. However, that is not happening inside my head. I feel like Im so old and every day i spend in bed rotting I feel like I wasted a day. Im not sure what happened that resulted in me feeling like that however its not normal bec i just bought the iphone i was dreaming of, a new TV and became more able to use the money to live my own lifestyle after realizing that I was the problem not the money itself.

Im more into having a routine with fixed schedules and I now love waking up at 7 AM. I learned how to cycle (im not that good yet).

I came to realize that now I not that strong. Now I am weaker and changing my lifestyle didn't make me strong but instead made me realize that im a very very sensitive person. I have a lot of flows and now i have a lot of brand new feelings that im not used to. i downloaded a book about self love and I was impressed since i have always judged people who did so. I didn't finish the book of course which is expected from me however I knew that i don't face my feelings and I tend to try to remove them completely if they are -ve feelings. I don't like feeling jealous and I tend to think low of me if i did so. I now don't have the courage to confess or confront people. In all my phases in life i used to think whether it is the best or worst version of me and now I don't know. I think Im most confused person ever and i don't even know yet what id like to do with my life. ill try to brag about my life to my aunt today only to seek for validation and see if she can help me enhance the quality of my life. if i didn't have the time or the courage to do so, then im completely alone as well. i am lost in my own thoughts and I don't know what to do. i hope life will at some time be better and easy for me which is a very hard thing to do in Egypt.

The best thing worth to mention is: I finally feel a slight happiness in my life which is not always the case but it is a brand new feeling. thanks to me for at least trying :)

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absolutelyfizzing · 3 years

Text

angels and demons

warren worthington x reader fluff

@shuckfaced-fangirl Hi! can I request a warren worthington x female mutant reader where her powers are shadow summoning? So I guess everyone in the school kind of views her as some sort of demon? With a lot of fluff? Thank you!!

Description - Y/N is a shadow summoner and is isolated from her peers. Warren helps her see that not everyone fears her and that she is worthy of affection.

warnings - its so fluffy. fem pronouns. some angsty stuff (isolation, depression, sadness), one innuendo, devastating fluff, warren being an angel. i tried to make it POC inclusive, please let me know if it feels restricting or excluding and i will edit it.

word count - 3700, i got carried away

A/N - im so sorry this took so long, i took a break from writing while i am working on moving to college. i will still be spotty for the next few weeks but hopefully, i will post a few more things in that time and then get back on a normal schedule. also, thanks so much for this request, i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope it is something you enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

You walked through the halls with a lowered head. You knew that you made others uncomfortable and so you chose to try to make yourself as small and unthreatening as possible. You had been 'gifted' powers with which you could manipulate and create darkness. You were a shadow summoner. That wasn't a name that many found reassuring or comforting.

There were a few who could see past it and who was close to being what you might call friends but those people were few and far between. There were overwhelmingly more people who believed that you must have been a scary and mean person, that you were some sort of demon. This couldn't have been further from the truth if one were to look past appearances. Your shadow was larger and darker than that of your peers and it trailed behind you with a mind of its own, moving and growing without you even meaning for it to happen. Your hands were constantly covered in something darker and dustier than the rest of your skin, a deep and pure black. It trailed from the tips of your fingers and faded on your forearm so it looked as though you had just dipped your arms into a chimney or that shadows were crawling up your arms.

When you first got them, you thought they were sort of cool. They made you look sort of goth and that was fun. That feeling quickly faded when you saw how others, even your family, reacted. They said it was a curse from hell. You were barely convinced otherwise.

You sat away from others at the school during free periods. During lunch you sat alone and in the sun when you could, you hoped it might make others be less scared of you as it might make you look brighter but your shadow, dark and ominous, maintained a spot near you. You wore clothes that made you look more approachable to try to maintain that you weren't scary. Your brightly colored outfit didn't ever seem to work though, no matter how hard you tried.

You looked down at the food in your hands, the sandwich only half-eaten, and you noted your hands. They were so normal looking, your nails were well kept and you thought they were a good size. That they might even be a good size for someone to hold. The only thing was the unnaturally colored dust that seemed to cover them. It was a cool black, it glistened and sparkled in the sun when your fingers moved. It never moved or transferred to anything else, always stuck securely to your skin. You were distracted by the way your fingers seemed to shine when a shadow came near yours, wings outlined in it. You looked up to see a tall blond boy above you with curly hair and bags under his eyes. He nodded to a spot on the grass near you.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You shook your head and even scooted away from the spot to give him more space despite the fact that you were in a large field.

"Do you want me to move?" You asked gently, wondering if maybe he wanted this particular spot and you took it from him unknowingly.

"I mean, I think that would sort of take away the whole point of me trying to sit with you." He smirked and you felt blood rush to your cheeks. "I like your hands" He hummed and you looked at him in shock. When his eyes met yours you tilted your head a bit.

"They don't bother you?" You tried to speak softly.

"No, I think they're awesome. They make you look punk." He smiled and you felt the corners of your mouth tug up a bit too.

"I like your wings." You almost mumbled as you allowed your gaze to move to the large feathery wings behind him. They moved in the wind and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through them. "They make you look like an angel." You smiled and he groaned dramatically.

"I'm trying to look grunge." He pouted and you giggled a bit. At the sound, he looked up at you and blushed a bit. "Maybe we should trade."

"If I could trade you I would. Everyone is scared of how I look." You gazed back at the grass.

"I'm not." His simple statement made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled a bit. You looked back at him and made eye contact for a moment.

"What's your name?" You asked and he maintained his gaze into your eyes. It was the most contact or conversation with someone else you'd had in a long time.

"I'm Warren." He smiled a bit and stuck a hand out to you to shake. You looked at his hand in shock. Nobody ever voluntarily touched your hands. Most of them worried that whatever was on them would spread. You hesitantly brought your hand to his, purposefully giving him plenty of time to remove his hand if he felt uncomfortable. But he didn't. Instead, your hand reached his and he shook it before letting go as if it was no big deal.

"I'm Y/N." You smiled a bit more and you felt a giggle come out of you from the joy of realizing this wasn't a dream, that someone was trying to talk to you and they weren't afraid.

"Is my name that funny?" He teased.

"No, I just-" you paused to think, "it's been so long since anyone has done this with me."

"Talked to you?" He questioned, obviously expecting you to say no and explain what you meant. Instead, you just nodded and his heart clenched for a moment. "Well, you can stick with me then."

"I don't know if you want your reputation to take a hit like that."

"My reputation is 'the angry and damaged kid', I'm sure it can handle the breaking news of me talking to a nice and pretty girl." He reassured before he even realized what he was saying. You could have cried at the feeling that rose up in your chest.

After that day, you stuck to his side like glue and he took no issue with it. The more you got to know him the more you appreciated the fact that he had taken you in. With his help, over the coming months, he helped you develop a stable friend group. That group included people like Ororo and Jane who had heard rumors about you and never bothered to check and see if they were real. They apologized profusely, especially Jean as she felt like she could have easily found out that you were kinder than she thought with her abilities but just had never done so, and you gladly accepted, just happy to be within a group.

You and Warren had developed a reputation. He was overly protective and gruff while you were overly nice and empathetic. You balanced each other well and if you were honest, you were in love with him. That always felt weird to say, you'd never been in love with anyone before but every second you spent with him made you more and more sure of your feelings.

When you and Warren were together, you would daydream about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. Being held by him and wrapped in his wings. Getting to play with his unkempt hair. Holding his hand.

Sometimes he would try to encourage you to hold his hand. He would hold it out to you when he was helping you jump down from somewhere high. He would ask you to hand him things and then make decisive contact as he took it from you. He knew that it meant a lot to you, you practically gasped and blushed every time he did it. He had never met anyone so touch starved. He wanted to give you all the affection that you craved.

Unfortunately, Warren was rather oblivious, especially towards things like feelings and emotions. He had no clue that you had any interest in him, even though he hoped you did every day. If he wasn't so attached to your friendship, he might ask you out. Instead, he tried to maintain a friendly distance so he didn't cross any lines while also being as affectionate with you as he could be. You followed a similar path.

The person caught in the middle of this was poor Jean Gray. she had watched you pine over each other since you met and had heard every thought that went through both of your heads. She knew you would never complain or ask for help about anything so she liked to keep tabs on your thoughts every once in a while to make sure you were okay. Still, she tried her best to not listen very often or when you were thinking about anything very personal, she honestly did. But she was a romantic. All she wanted was for you two idiots to get together but you were both oblivious. She decided, probably 3 months into you becoming friends, that she had to do something about it.

She was sitting on your bed while you sat across your bedroom on your small couch. She fiddled with her thumbs while she tried to ignore your constant thoughts about Warren, his hands, his wings, his smile. She was exhausted. she took a small breath while she planned how she would try to say this to you.

"Do you want to know what I heard today?" She called and you looked up at her from the book you were pretending to read.

"Do you mean heard or 'heard'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes.

"Either." Then she tilted her head. "Both."

"Yeah, I wanna know! What's it about?" You asked while leaning forward in your seat. Jean always had the best gossip to tell because she could literally hear it.

"Warren." She stated simply and watched your reaction. You flushed and stopped breathing for a moment.

"Wha-" you stuttered, "what about him?"

"That he has a thing for you." she winked and you flushed even more.

"You're lying." You assured, a questioning look on your face.

"I'm not and I'm tired of watching you two longing after one another while the rest of the school watches." She smiled and your heart picked up.

"I thought I told you not to look in my head!" You scolded but you weren't actually all that upset. You knew that it was very hard for her to control.

"I cant help it! Both of you think so loud. And I wouldn't have to anyway, Ororo mentioned it to me the other day and she definitely cants read minds." She giggled and you smiled a bit.

"Does he actually like me?" You almost whispered in disbelief.

"Yes! He's been obsessed with you since you started talking."

"But like he would want to actually go-"

"Y/N, I swear to god. If you don't go and talk to him right now I'm going to have a fit." She laughed and you glared at her.

"Okay okay fine, I'm going," you grumbled as you stood and walked toward your door. "If you are wrong I'm gonna be so upset with you."

She just laughed again and you started to walk down the hallway. You thought he might be in his room or outside. You decided to check his room first.

You knocked on his door but you were met with silence. You tried the handle and it moved.

"Warren?" you paused, "I'm coming in," you warned and pushed the door open. When you looked inside, he wasn't there. You took a moment to gaze around his room, it wasn't the first time you had been in there but every time was a bit exciting as you got to see all of the things he had that represented him. He had a boombox and a CD collection on his dresser. Some of his clothes were thrown around his room haphazardly and some of his drawers were open. You looked at the wall next to you where he kept photos that you took. You would carry around a camera or take pictures on your phone of everyone around campus. He always asked for them and then printed them out so he could hang them up. He had even managed to get a couple of you. You smiled a bit before heading back into the hallway, closing the door behind you.

You instead moved towards the door to get out onto the lawn where you thought he would probably be. He often sat under the big oak trees or on the roof if he wanted to get away from people. When you made it outside, you looked around for him.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout. You turned to look for him and saw his silhouette flying from the roof. You paused to admire him and his wings. He always looked so angelic to you. So powerful. You thought about how your power emanated darkness. That you would never appear angelic to someone and would more likely look like a demon. You looked down at your hands for a second, a habit you had when you were thinking about your powers. They sparkled a bit in the sun but it did little to quell the distaste in your mouth.

Suddenly there was a shadow in front of you that was not part of the darkness that surrounded you.

"Y/N?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?" he tried not to startle you. Being empathetic wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he tried extra hard around you. he noticed the way you were staring at your hands. The growth of your shadow as you thought about your powers more. He moved to touch one of your hands but you flinched back a bit. He brought his hand back and looked at you with concern. "Whats wrong, angel?" He asked lightly and you looked up at the pet name. He had started calling you that soon after you became friends. You thought it was out of irony but he really was convinced that you were some sort of angel. He also loved the way that your eyes would light up when he said it. You stared at him for a moment in silence.

"Do I scare you?" You asked quietly and your voice shook. He looked surprised by your question and you were surprised too. You didn't know why you were suddenly getting emotional. Why this was now all you could think about. Why it had to come up now when you were trying to express your feelings for him. Instead of responding he reached out to your hand, holding onto it when you let him, despite flinching away slightly. He started to walk, leading you toward the same tree you had met under. Once you both reached it he sat down and looked up at you, waiting for you to sit down too. You did, maybe a bit farther away from him than you needed to be.

"Do you think you scare me?" he asked genuinely and you took a second to think, looking back down at your hands which were now pulled back into your lap.

"I scare me," you stated simply and paused.

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know." You mumbled. "I think I freak everyone out. Including you I guess." Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. you really hadn't thought about it in a little while. It had been on your mind plenty when you first started talking to him. You were extra conscious of not pushing him to be around you or near your shadow. You knew that he would move away if he needed to but you also had so many memories of everyone around you fearing you, running from you, telling you that you were a curse. Instead of responding he held his hand out in between the two of you, palm up. You knew that he was inviting you to take it but that he wouldn't push you to. Instead of taking it, you placed your hand near his on the ground and he left his next to yours, not trying to take it if you didn't want him to.

"You don't." He let out, sounding sure of himself and slightly pained. "You don't scare me." You looked at each other. He had tears in his eyes. He was never one to get emotional so you were surprised. "Do I scare you?" he questioned, already knowing your answer but trying to prove a point.

"Of course not." You sighed.

"You have a lot more reason to be afraid of me than I have to be afraid of you." he looked at your hand again. "I'm the one who has a rough history, I'm the one who is angry and has a reputation of being aggressive."

"But, Warren, your mutation is-"

"Mutation has nothing to do with it, Y/N." he sighed. "You have control over your abilities, I have control over mine. The only difference between us is our personalities and I have never had any reason to fear you or dislike you. You're the kindest person I know and everyone in your life who has let you think that there was something wrong with you was terrible. And that was on them."

Your hand reached for his and you laced your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth faster than you could think and you sucked in a breath, almost hoping he didn't hear you. When you glanced up at him he had a gentle smile on his face. He brought the back of your hand up to his face and kissed it before placing it against his cheek.

"I love you too, Y/N" He reached out for your waist and pulled you toward his lap, giving you plenty of time to give him a sign that you were uncomfortable. Instead, you put your leg over his waist so you were straddling his thighs. You held one of his hands in between you and fiddled with his fingers, admiring how your hands contrasted with his. Somehow, him holding your hand made it seem less out of place. You almost felt pride.

You were suddenly surrounded by warmth and shadow, the sounds of the quad around you becoming muted. You looked up around you and his wings were wrapped around the two of you, closing you off into your own little world. You felt the urge to reach out to them but you had never asked. You had never seen him let anyone touch them and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Go ahead." your eyes snapped to his in shock.

"Warren, you never let any-"

"I want you to," he admitted and it was true. He had thought many times about asking you to run your fingers through his wings. He would never complain about it but they were a little high maintenance and also sensitive. He never let anyone touch them because most people weren't gentle or he didn't trust them. He knew though that you were the gentlest person on Earth and that he could count on you to be careful.

At his reassurance, you smiled a bit. You reached a hand out to the part of his wing next to his shoulder. You both gasped a bit when your fingers made contact. Warren was a bit surprised at how sensitive they were to your touch and it had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched them. You were entranced by how soft they were. The feathers were delicate and there were so many. You were very careful in how you moved your hand along his wing, looking at him often to see if he was uncomfortable. As you were carding your fingers through his feathers, one came out. You gasped slightly horrified that you had hurt him.

"Hey, it's okay!" he rushed out as he saw your panic. "They just sort of... shed sometimes." He almost seemed embarrassed. Feathers would come off occasionally and he would often have to brush through them himself to release all of the loose feathers, sort of like brushing your hair. He reached to pick up the feather and held it in front of you for you to take. You gladly did and you twirled it in your fingers. "Maybe sometime, if you wouldn't mind, of course, you could help me brush through them?" he asked quietly and you smiled.

"Yeah of course. They seem like they might be a lot of work." you were touched that he trusted you to do that and you thought about how hard it must be to take care of them by himself when they were so big and most of his wings were behind him.

"You should see what it's like to shower with them," he grumbled and then his eyes widened at what he had said. He hadn't meant it to be an innuendo but now he was worried he offended you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and you fell into a fit of giggles.

"I might have to take you up on that offer." Your gentle gaze made him blush. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone. This safe. He decided right then that he would do anything you ever asked of him.

After that day, you and Warren became the cutest couple at the school. You were opposites in multiple ways and your relationship was more wholesome than any of your friends could handle. You got more confident in yourself and your abilities and he allowed himself to be more vulnerable. everyone agreed that you were a match made in heaven.

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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omg-just-peachy · 3 years

Note

do u have any stony fanfics to recommend (besides the fandom classics ofc) where preferrably the team is like a family and all is well? it can be canon, it can be an au, im just starving here

okay to be honest i'm not 100% sure what the classics are aside from like, celestial navigation, but here are some favorites from my bookmarks!

chances are by firebrands

five times steve and tony display affection unconsciously, and all of the avengers notice.

told through the five love languages (acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation, physical touch, and giving gifts)!

bad blood by firebrands

Tony bumps into his awful, horrible, absolutely worst ex at an art gallery.

His friends try to get to the bottom of why they broke up, because said ex is such a ray of sunshine.

OR: Tony's friends love him very much but they are also very concerned. (Steve has no idea what's going on and he's just happy to be here.)

downtime (a night off) by desitonystark

It’s a rare phenomenon that all Avengers are under the roof, not because they don’t like each other, but because their singular lives are too vast and rich for them to meet frequently and constantly.

This just means that when their schedules allow for a precious opening when the team can meet without fear of an alien invasion or imminent global destruction - they try their hardest to make the absolute best of it.

(Or: The Team gets drunk on a rare night off)

you fit me better than my terrible clothes by nanasekei

Tony didn’t set out to become obsessed with Steve’s terrible fashion sense. Really. It just… happened.

even my phone misses your call by rainbowninja167

Steve makes it all the way to Ohio before conceding that the post-Chitauri road trip might’ve been a mistake.

Or, ten times Steve has to call Tony to come pick him up.

tonight we're gonna make it all come true by gottalovev

Steve Rogers is one of the best players in college football and is ready to prove it. The road towards becoming a professional football player? Is totally crazy. Falling in love with Tony Stark, the young quarterback from Stanford, may be even more life changing.

the blind date dinner auction by betheflame

In which Steve and Tony go on a blind date.

teddy bear status by tazziebubbles

In which Tony almost dies (yet again) and a certain supersoldier becomes awfully touchy. Not that he minds.

for this i am thankful by corsets_and_cardigans

Newly divorced Dad Tony spends Thanksgiving with his attractive new neighbor.

i want the green grass and the tomato plants by theapplepielifestyle

When Tony arrives to Stardew Valley, he spends the first five minutes staring.

(Or, a Stardew Valley AU. Tony rebuilds a farm and owns chickens. Steve paints.)

#omg all of these are so good #i should go back through my bookmarks more often #and re read that stardew fic again #and all of them #anyway #i hope this helps anon!!#stevetony #fic rec #rec list

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hotchseyebrows · 3 years

Text

thoughtfulness in little things

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: can you believe that is my first ever full length morcia fic? me? resident morcia nut? wow. what a world. anyway!! i hope yall like this (and if you noticed it was already on ao3 earlier today shhh this is a scheduled tumblr post im Sleeping rn) and hopefully i dont take 4 months in between posting fics again, but i make no promises!!! my brain is Evil

thank you @blkantigone for being my beta and thank you @derekmorqan for letting me barf 1k of this in our dms a while back, i love you both sm

they do kiss a fair bit in this (it is, in fact, a first kiss fic) and its a little steamy, but by no means explicit and is rated teens and up on ao3 :)

read it here on ao3!!

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?”

Everything changes during a late night in Penelope's batcave. But really, nothing changes at all.

word count: 3000

Friday nights without a case are a rare treasure for SSA Hotchner’s highly sought after team of profilers. Normally, Derek and Penelope would be taking advantage of the freedom by dancing all night, but sometimes the universe has other plans.

Penelope used this week’s case-free time to put the finishing touches on an antivirus and security software of her own creation. The personal information of her beloved BAU babies was a hot commodity well worth the additional protection, and she’s always looking for a reason to fiddle with Quantico’s servers. It ended up being a whole production, taking the entire afternoon and then some. Apparently, she still doesn’t have all of the permissions required to make certain adjustments which means that she’s fiddling and bending her way into all of the things she needs to do. If that wasn’t bad enough, the whole damn thing crashed around 4:00. She managed not to pull her hair out, but it was a close thing and it set her back at least an extra hour.

Derek stops by a little after 5, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “Baby girl, I can hear the bottles of DC’s finest vodka and Hennessy calling our names, are you almost ready to leave for the day?” He pauses in the door, taking in her furious typing and furrowed brow. “Whoa, Mama, what’s the matter? You’ve got Hotch’s eyebrows.”

She throws her arms up. “The entirety of the FBI and also the world is getting on my nerves!” He walks over to her, leaning on the side of her chair and turning her away from her monitor. His hands gently grab both of hers and he rubs a soothing circle with one of his thumbs.

“Explain, baby girl.”

She does, eventually just ranting and raving about how annoying it is to still be put in metaphorical handcuffs by the FBI as if she can’t just do what she wants anyway. “I’m not even breaking any rules, technically, they’re just making things annoying and long winded.” She sighs, moving her hands to interlock their fingers. “But now that it’s started, it would be doubly annoying to stop it and come back later. So I’m stuck here until it’s done, which might take a while.”

He nods, thinking. Then he straightens up, grabs the extra rolling chair, and sits down.

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?” She blushes, turning away to hide it on instinct.

“You cheeseball.” She spins around to lightly push on his arm. He just smiles.

They sit together for 20 minutes in relative silence as she continues her work. It’s a comfortable silence; his occasional humming soothes her rising annoyance at how needlessly long this is taking. She can hear him playing with one of the fidget toys she keeps on her desk behind him. When she gets to another point of sitting and waiting, she turns towards him and asks him about his day. He tells her about how Prentiss helped him get Reid back for a prank by distracting him in the break room while he switched out the keyboard of Reid’s computer with an identical one with a grass garden planted inside. “It’s a long con for sure, but I’m hoping it sprouts this weekend.”

She laughs. “How long did it take you to set this up, dumpling?” She already knows the answer, but it’s nice to see his slightly sheepish but proud look about his dedication to his prank war. Her computer beeps at her, and she spins back around to begin working again.

He rolls closer, avoiding her question and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You getting hungry yet?”

She relaxes, leaning against him. As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. “Yes, I’d say so.”

He leans over and moves a strand of hair out of her face. “Okay baby girl, I’ll go grab us food and be right back.” She nods, lifting her cheek on instinct to meet the kiss she knows is coming. He stands and sure enough, leans down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be quick. Be good.”

“How can I do anything else if you’re not here?” She bats her eyes up at him.

He grins. “Oh, I’m sure you’d think of something.” He brushes his knuckles against her cheek. It makes her shiver.

She watches him leave, catching the kiss he blows at her from the door. Turning back to focus on her work, it feels like she blinks and he’s back. A glance at the clock tells her it’s been over a half hour. He puts the bag of food onto the table before coming to pull her away from the computer.

“One minute, I promise, I’m so close to just letting this thing run for a little.” He twirls her hair around his fingers before dropping his hands onto her shoulders, rubbing away the tension. A minute and a half later, she leans back in her chair with a sigh. She tilts her head back and sticks her tongue out at him. He smiles at her.

"Come eat, baby girl. Don't think you're getting out of eating my hard won dinner." He moves to the table and pulls out her chair. She follows and sits.

"Hard won — mon cher, you didn't tackle a wild animal and lug it home to our log cabin in the woods, you drove your car 20 minutes."

He kisses her temple, handing her a pair of chopsticks. "Yeah, but I would lug home whatever you needed anytime, so the sentiment is the same."

She smiles and knocks their feet together under the table lightly. He moves his chair, so they are sitting right next to each other on the same side of the table. The heat from his arm is palpable.

Derek grabs a box from the bag and splits the vegan pad thai within onto two paper plates. He opens the box of spring rolls and places it in between them while she places napkins in front of them both. He pops the cap off of her bottle of lemonade without her asking, and sets that in front of her too. “Thank you, handsome.” He smiles in response. They start eating and the comfortable silence returns.

She talks him through what she still needs to do to fix everything in between bites, even though she knows he doesn't really understand her technobabble. But Penelope can feel his eyes on her, and without looking, she somehow knows that something has shifted in the air around them.

"What?" she asks, turning her attention away from gesturing at her computer with the chopsticks. "Do I have something on my face?"

He chuckles. "Actually, yes, c'mere." He brushes away a stray spot of sauce on the corner of her lips with a gentle swipe of his thumb. The rest of his hand stills on her cheek. She shivers. She can see him notice it, his attention focusing in on her. Penelope's blood is thundering in her ears as he glances in between her lips and her eyes.

She leans purposefully into his hand. His thumb brushes over her lips again and her mouth falls open a little.

"Penelope, I-" he cuts himself off with a hard swallow. "Penelope." His eyes flicker down to her lips and back up to her eyes quickly again.

She can only blink at him for a moment. "Yes, Derek?"

"I don't kn- um. Can I-" She's never seen him flustered and unsure like this. But they've never been out of sync before and they aren't about to start now, so she nods, bringing up a hand to rest on his. A smile grows on his face before he starts to lean in. His hand slides along her cheek to more firmly grip her face- it makes her gasp.

He pauses, thinking something is wrong. "Penelope, are y-" Her heart swells at how careful he is to take care of her always, and she meets him in the middle, pressing their lips together in a soft, purposeful kiss.

For a moment, all is still. The world boils down to just the place where their lips are touching. Their lips barely brush against one another, but already Penelope feels light headed. Derek separates their lips for a moment before kissing her again, a firmer touch this time. She sucks in a breath through her nose. His lips are incredibly kind- that’s the only word for it. He doesn’t seem to know the word “take” right now because all she can feel from him is “give.” As he presses into the kiss and gently cups the side of her face, her brain wildly spins through thoughts about how of course he’s like this even when kissing her and how good he smells and how she can’t believe they haven’t done this sooner.

He draws her closer against him, pressing into the kiss more insistently before bringing his other hand up to her face and holding her. His fingers move to cup the sides of her neck and she tilts her head to the left a touch, letting her mouth fall open in a sigh. He makes a soft noise before tentatively sliding their tongues together. A full body shiver runs down her spine and through her limbs. Another small noise falls from the back of his throat. Her stomach swoops like they've just dropped down the side of a huge arch in a roller coaster. She places both hands on his chest, pressing forward. He moves with her, chair squeaking underneath him as he presses closer, one arm snaking around her back. Penelope’s heart pounds even louder. His tongue is gentle even in its insistence as their kiss turns slightly desperate.

It feels like someone has lit a fire underneath Penelope’s chair, warmth washing over her whole body and radiating out from everywhere they touch. One of his hands tangles into her hair as he gently tilts her head back. If she wasn’t sitting her knees would have buckled so long ago, but now she would absolutely be on the floor. It’s no surprise that Derek Morgan is an incredible kisser, but knowing something and knowing something is so different.

He pulls back, letting their foreheads rest together. Her eyes stay closed, tingles radiating from everywhere his fingers are tenderly holding her face. She tightens her grip on his shirt. He kisses the tip of her nose. "You still with me, baby girl?"

She nods, breathless. She slowly opens her eyes and smiles at him. "Hi." It's the first thing she thinks to say.

He laughs. "Hey you."

She has so many questions- how long have you wanted to do that, can we do that again right now, can we do so much more right now, right here- but before she can ask any of them, her computer beeps loudly. "Oh!" She jumps at the sudden noise. He drops his hands and leans back, looking far too much like the cat who got the cream. "I should- right, I should deal with that," she says, standing on shaky legs. Heels were never so precarious. Of course, there is no hiding from a profiler.

He grins up at her. "Need some assistance?" His eyes are shining like he's hiding a joke. She scrunches her nose at him, biting back a smile.

"Oh, hush you. I’m perfectly capable of walking 3 feet, thank you very much." Her tenacity is a little undercut from the way her hands are trembling a little as she smooths her skirt, but still. The point remains.

He raises his hands in surrender. "Alright baby girl, go on then."

She walks over to her computer and stays standing to fiddle with the wires behind it before bending over at the keyboard and reading the report on the screen. "It shouldn't be much longer now, it just needs to run the last new anti-virus- what?" He's leaning back in his seat and staring at her, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"What, Mama?" But he knows what, clearly evident from the way he is trying to school his expression into something innocent.

She blushes. "Derek Morgan, I don't know what I'm going to do if you keep looking at me like that."

"Oh, I don't know. I might have some ideas."

She sucks in a sharp inhale through her nose. Playing nonchalant, she turns back to her computer. "Well, I might have to hear your ideas out."

"Yeah?"

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye and he's grinning.

"Yeah." she says, not trusting what will come out of her mouth if she elaborates (probably something along the lines of “I’d listen to all your ideas, do your ideas include any semblance of forever, if you keep grinning like that I'm gonna lock the door and do something reckless”).

They sit in relative silence, just the sounds of her typing filling the room. When she finishes, she spins her chair around. "Hi," she says again.

"Hi baby," he responds.

Her fingers twist and curl the hem of her skirt. "So, uh, well, that's gonna take at least another 30 minutes to finish running."

He raises one eyebrow. "30 minutes, huh?"

She nods. "Might be a good time for some of those ideas."

He stands and walks across the room to her. She takes his offered hand and stands as well. They stay there, inches apart and holding hands as the charged atmosphere around them seems to crackle. In the same breath, they lean in to kiss again. Both of her arms wrap around his neck as he tucks his around her waist. He pulls her against him, fully pressed together as the soft kiss deepens into something heated and desperate.

He bites her bottom lip gently before the kiss turns open mouthed and slick. She arches against him as they slide into a slow rhythm. She feels fluttery, like his arms are the only anchor point in the whole world and if he let her go, she’d simply float away. He tastes like lemonade, sweet and alive. She hums as he tracks his hands in a slow circle at the base of her spine. Her knees really do buckle a little as he attempts to tug her closer, but he holds her steady. She rests a hand on his cheek and grounds herself by using the other to grip the back of his neck. She’s utterly swallowed up by him, his arms and his mouth and just him surrounding her in their own little cocoon. He separates their mouths to kiss across her jaw and down her neck, hands flattening on her back. He places a line of long kisses down to the crook of her neck. She lets out a sigh, letting her head fall to the side to give him more room. He sinks his teeth into the same spot lightly, and she shudders.

"Derek," she whispers. She can feel his smile against his skin as he kisses the same place again.

They slow to a stop, tucked against each other. He rests his face against her neck and mumbles something against her skin. "Hmm honey?" she says, hand rubbing a circle on the nape of his neck.

"I got us that Talenti ice cream you like," he says, only moving enough to be heard. “Chocolate peanut butter cup, and the color changing spoons are still in the break room.”

"Oh Der, that's so sweet, you didn't have to do all of that." Her heart skips a beat.

He shrugs, kissing the side of her neck. "I wanted to."

She is half tempted to haul him in for another kiss, but as if on cue, her stomach grumbles. He picks his head up and smiles at her. "Come eat now," he says before giving her another quick peck.

She lets him pull her to the table, but before they sit, she pulls him in again. He chuckles into the kiss. "Eat, you menace." He mumbles against her lips. Pulling back, he plants a kiss on the apple of her cheek as he guides her into her seat.

She bites a retort about how she was trying to but he sees it on her face anyway.

"Later, baby girl. Dinner first."

“Then dessert?” She tilts her head and gives him a flirty smile.

He runs his thumb along her bottom lip. “All the dessert you want, Penelope.”

Much the same as before, they eat in comfortable silence. Except this time he rests a hand on her thigh, and traces a slow lazy circle with his thumb. The conversation picks back up and turns to unrelated things. Derek muses about possible retaliations from Spencer once he notices his new desk plants as he casually offers her a bite from his plate. She takes it, humming.

Something Penelope did not realize had lost its footing resettles in her chest. Nothing is different, not in any way that would scare her or be a loss. They are just the same as they've always been, but also more. (Though she'd be hard pressed to think of a time when this wasn't the way they were. Maybe things are just being unveiled, not changed.)

When they finish eating, he goes to get the ice cream and two of the fun spoons from the break room. They split the pint and laugh far too loudly for how late it is. The computer beeps for a final time, software finally fully uploaded and settled. She still has to run tests and double check that everything is working, but that can wait. Derek offers her a bite of ice cream, and if he kisses her again to remove the ice cream from her bottom lip, she can't say she minds.

#morcia #derek morgan #penelope garcia #cm #cj.txt #cjs fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 3 years

Text

The Missing Guardian | Prologue: Act I Scene I | Mondstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

A.N. okay! so first chapter of a new series im starting! its a series rewrite of the genshin impact plot. i had always wanted to do one of these, and with my comic obsession, if you read marvel/dc comics youll find some crossovers hints. hope yall enjoy as i finally start to write and get on some type of schedule. its also one in the morning so imma head to bed :)

Word Count. 1,633 words

Page Count. 4.8 pages

Synopsis. When you’ve finally found a home in a set of twins who travel across worlds, setting out to enjoy your time with them; learning everything you could while traveling from world to world. But this time was different, because this time, someone stood in your way from continuing forward, from going home. You watched as your family was torn from you once again, leaving you stuck in a world alone with only a guide, the memories of a life long left behind, and the hope of finding them once again.

[ Series Masterlist: The Missing Guardian Mini Masterlist ]

[ Act I, Scene I ] [ next scene ]

Prologue Act I: Scene I | Monstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

So, what you're trying to say is that you fell here? From another world?

But, when you wanted to leave and go back to your world... Your path was blocked by some unknown God?

You could only nod at Paimons commentary, watching as she floated next to you, a small hand to her chin as she looked deep in thought. Looking forward to the vast openness of the ocean in front of you, memories flashing before your own eyes as the pain settled in your heart, the wind slowly picking up before the tears filled your eyes. It hurt to think back at what happened, to how you lost them, the two people to found you after being lost for so long.

That carmine red outlining the dark abyss shaped like a star would haunt you as a woman walked out, snowy white hair and the bandages around her legs flowing around her as her voice seemed to break through your skull, demanding your attention while the twins next to you could only look up in confusion. The anger in those golden eyes was enough to make you take a step back, you've never met her- Hell, you've never seen or heard of anyone like her, so why did she come at you with such ferocity? Even her mere presence contrasted with the ivory, baby blues, and gold of your surroundings, the heavenly area around you tainted with this... Unknown God.

"Outlanders, your journey ends here." She demanded, the portals behind her sharpening with the wave of her hand. Lumine took a step forward, her shock evident in the small gasp she let out before speaking, determination and confusion spilled across her features.

"Who are you?"

"The sustainer of heavenly principles." She responds quickly, bringing a hand up to her line of vision with a small red and black cube in her hand, twirling it causing the ground beneath you to tremble, Aether looking between you and his sister. Shaking your head, you bent your knees ready to jump, the engines in your heavy boots started up, as your mask appeared on your face once again with only a light touch to the earpiece.

"The arrogation of mankind ends now." The ground lit up around you, red and irritated with magic you haven't seen before, your boots shooting you into the air as Aether and Lumine jumped- following your lead as they pulled their golden swords and allowed their wings to manifest, holding themselves in the air.

It was barely a second, before you moved forward with the twins by your side, your hands moving to the Quads in their holsters and taking them out for another fight. You only thanked whatever Gods in your own world were listening, and that damn mentor of yours, before your mind went back to the battle at hand- requiring you to fly around and dodge the large amounts of glistening red and gold cubes that came in your way, blocking you from the target of the Unknown God.

Before you knew it, the end of this battle came quickly, an explosion from the mere speed of you, Lumine, and Aether stopping right before the Unknown God to attack.

And that second was all she needed to do what was needed.

Her gaze fell upon you, making you shiver in fear, before you flew back and blasted a beam of energy at her from your Quad, only for it to be absorbed by a cluster of cubes. Your voice came out robotic, echoed with the technology that covered your face, you eyes moving to see the cluster of cubes enveloping the twins that were once beside you.

"Aether! Lumine!" They only looked at you in horror, fading once the cubes covered them whole, returning to the Unknown God in a hollowed and golden version of her twisted and unique weapon. She watched the rotating cube with wide, uncaring eyes, giving you enough time to circle around her and attack once more- throwing the handheld mines from your belt onto her form, the beeping accelerating once it met her skin, and an explosion following quickly.

By the time the smoke cleared, and before your mask could scan and gain some sense of recognition, the cubes that protected the Unknown God attached themselves to your outstretched hand, closing in on you while maintaining the explosion you caused. Eventually, it all settled into one cube that contained your hand, before you followed the same fate as the twins.

"Wait! Don't go! Give them back!" You managed to scream, desperation in your voice, as you watched another family be taken from you once again, your vision fading into darkness and your heart breaking once again.

And just like that, the god took away my friends.

Some kind of seal was put on my being, and the power I had was gone.

And while I had the freedom to travel the universe, worlds, and entirely new realms.

I was now trapped.

"How many years ago was it? I don't know, Paimon. But, I've gotta. I have to." You answered Paimons question, still looking out to the sea in front of you, mask now hidden into the earpiece that decorated your left lobe. The leather of your jacket warmed you from the cool breeze of the sea, the bodysuit underneath regulated your body temperature in any environment, but you specifically used it when in space when you held the title of Guardian. But you couldn't afford to think about that now.

Not when there's a chance of finding Aether and Lumine.

"After I woke up, I was alone- until I met you two months ago." You finished, looking over to your floating friend, who only turned as she spoke.

"Yeah. Paimon really owes you for that. Otherwise Paimon likely would have drowned... So, Paimon will do her best to be a great guide!" She smiles, hands on her hips while looking up to you, seeing as she always chose to float around chest-level when around you. You sighed, a weak chuckle escaped your lips before you sat up from the sand, brushing off the back of your cargo pants and looking towards your guide for this new world- patting her head and making sure to be careful of the crown that hovered above her.

You had only hoped Paimon would do most of the talking for you anyways, due to Tevyat’s language being foreign even to your ears and tongue, a feat for a Guardian of your reputation. A decent understanding of the oral part of the language under your belt, you found reading to be easier, since it did look similar to some scripts back in your own world. Your thoughts were cut off as Paimon spoke up, calling for you to follow her as she sped ahead of you, following the path from out of the beach to the grassy area ahead of you.

"Awe, the path ends here. I guess we'll just have to climb, huh?" You rolled your eyes, shaking your head while you started to heave yourself up the large rock, Paimon taking notice of this.

"You mean I have to climb the rock, P, you just have to float." You laughed, reaching the top with a grunt before she whined about floating taking as much energy as walking or climbing. It wasn't bad, you've climbed a lot worse in even more horrid situations, but damn did that take a good breath from you. You'd have to work on rebuilding some of your stamina while traveling here, and possibly need to find some supplies to settle somewhere for a bit, maybe even collect whatever currency they had here.

"Well, let's take the route we planned! We're off to... a Statue of The Seven!" She smiles with glee, before a questionable face appears as you both move forward, her head turning towards you as you attempt to take in much of the scenery and areas you could. Your heavy boots only crushed the poor underbrush and grass that came into contact with it, your belt that was filled with gadgets and such clinking with the sway of your hips- hitting the holsters.

This world is beautiful...

"Which of The Seven are you looking for exactly?" She asked, making you shrug your shoulders at her, hands up as you walked towards a nearby tree- picking up the strange orange fruits and packing them away before moving forward. They looked like some weird crossbreed of orange and pear, but, you hoped it would taste as good as it looked.

"To be honest? Any of them. They should have some idea of what happened, but even then, The Seven are gods in this world- and from what I remember of gods... they aren't too sane to say the least." You said, reaching a small cliff side that overlooked a lake with a statue near the edge of the small island in the center of it.

"That's a Statue of The Seven!" She pointed in its direction as you gave her your full attention, your finger going to touch the back of your ear to signal that, mindful of the metal to not trigger the activation of your mask.

"There are a few of these statues scattered across the land to show The Seven's protections over the world. Among the seven gods, this god controls the wind. Paimon's not sure whether the god your looking for is the Anemo God, but... Paimon'll take you to the Anemo God's place first, and there's a reason why~" She muses, giving you a small wink before turning around, allowing you to follow her down the path to the first Statue of The Seven.

To the first step towards finding Aether and Lumine.

Your journey has started.

#genshin impact imagine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #gi x reader #gi imagine #x reader #reader insert #queen.writing #The Missing Guardian: Genshin Impact

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too-gay-for-marvel · 3 years

Text

nonessential

a/n: well lookie here, im still alive. AND on a second story. damn, this is considered a streak now

Word Count: 1194

Warnings: canon character death

Pairing: Tony x Natasha x Reader

When you were eight years old, an elderly man gave you a seed.

He had placed it in your hand and gently closed your fingers around it. “You’ll understand,” he had said with a kind smile before hobbling off on his way once again. You didn’t tell your mother when she brought back your ice cream, instead just putting it into your pocket.

After that day, the seed had stayed with you. The next day you had gotten the locket your brother had given you and put the seed inside. From then on, it stayed next to your heart. You didn’t know why you kept it with you or why it had become so important so quickly, but it had. Not a day went by where the seed was not on your person, and you liked it that way.

It had been with you when you had graduated high school and college, not top of your class but that didn’t matter. It was there when you got hired to be part of the HR department at Stark Industries. It was there in the left breast pocket of your shirt when you met the infamous Stark and Romanoff duo.

And it had been there when you had fallen for the couple.

It was simple, really. Much more simple than you had thought it would have been. They were so guarded, so separated from your reality. The two of them were like gods, always fighting, always winning. You had simply wanted to work; wanted to make something of yourself.

And you had fallen for them.

One passing glance turned into a simple smile, then a “hello,” then a “nice to meet you,” and it progressed from there. Progressed into something that you weren’t quite aware of until it was too late. The three of you talked business, then you went to lunch and talked business, then you just went to lunch. You listened to Tony talk about his mad science experiments, Nat talked about the Bartons.

Not once did you ever notice the look he would send your way when you were looking over his plans. Not once did you hear her voice get softer when she said your name. The gentle touches, the whispered words, the kisses on the cheek. Not until they brought you home did you ever, ever, consider more.

Because how could you when the two gods became oh so very human? For you?

You told them of your seed. Tony laughed, of course; made a joke about his seed. It was hard to understand how a seed, a single seed, could have so much of an impact on your life. Especially for them. They saved people for a living, made peoples’ lives easier, were heroes. And yet you had something, so insignificant, and it gave you hope? Gave you something to look forward to, to hold, to cherish?

There were times that you wanted to plant it. When you introduced them to your family, when you moved in with them, when they proposed. Every time they went on long missions, you would get a pot filled with soil and sit by the windowsill. When they come home, you thought, I’ll plant it. This time.

You never did.

But you found a time. The perfect time. Nine months ago to the day, in fact. A day written down in history. A day etched into your heart. Five years ago, someone, something, had destroyed life. Nat and Tony were gone, and before you could find out where they were, things had gone dark. It was like a dream, looping over and over, to the point you forgot it was a dream.

And then it stopped.

You opened your eyes to see you were still in the living room. There was dust everywhere. You tried to call Nat’s phone, then Tony’s. No answer. You gripped the locket, with the seed still inside, and fell to the floor. No answer was never a good thing.

There was no telling how many hours you spent on the floor, how many days. You hadn’t felt hungry, tired, nothing. The only thing you felt was cold. But how could you get up when you weren’t even sure if the two people you loved were okay?

Nat and Tony never called you back. They never came walking through the door, Tony never joked about your seed again, Nat never bossed you around about your sleeping schedule, they never called your parents or brother. They never did anything again.

They never came home.

You buried them nine months ago, to the day.

Your toes flexed in the dirt, testing the moisture that was left from your previous trip. Maybe it was weird, probably not the proper way to test it, but you believed six months had given you enough knowledge to test it however you wanted. And if that meant you were gonna shove your toes in the dirt, then by god you were gonna shove your toes in the dirt.

The flowers would be blooming soon; the sun was going down and it was going to be a full moon. Hopefully there would be enough flowers tonight to make a stunning sight. The vines had grown halfway up the marble and you just knew it would bring tears to your eyes.

You moved back a few steps and sat down on the grass, just far enough away to look at the marble that was being overgrown with vines and flowers. As much as you hated it, you would still visit every night. It was the only way to spend the night with your loved ones.

As darkness fell upon the marble and vines, the flowers began to bloom. A beautiful white flower with five petals, accompanied by the most mind-numbingly beautiful scent you had ever smelled. In the glow of the lights, the flowers seemed luminescent, an otherworldly sight for some godly beings.

And basking in that sight, you let your tears fall. Let them fall down your cheeks and onto your knees. The first few weeks you cried, you were ashamed. Tried to wipe them away as soon as they fell, even though no one was around to see them. But now? No, now you let them fall freely until there was nothing left.

The sun begins to rise before you allow yourself to move. Some nights you only stay for a few hours, others until the next night. But you have plans, and they would want you to go. They had said so many times in the past, and you wouldn’t let them down. You couldn’t.

You force yourself to your feet and wipe the dirt off your pants, not even caring how little you actually got off. It didn’t even matter anyway; and that brought the familiar sting to your eyes. No matter. Your face could do with some more moisturiser anyway. So you picked up your bag, turned around, and walked away without a look back.

When you were eight years old, an elderly man gave you a seed.

Not once did you ever think its home would be on Tony’s and Natasha’s graves.

#natasha romanoff #tony stark #natasha romanoff x reader #tony stark x reader #natasha x reader #black widow #tony x natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #tony x reader #tony stark imagine #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man imagine

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wickedscribbles · 3 years

Text

Come What May, Chapter Four

Masterlist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: brief description of panic attack -- there is a warning in the body of the chapter as well! Don’t worry.

Tags: main character has social anxiety, teaching a class with Obi-Wan, sexual tension, lightsaber fights, Obi-Wan continues with the cute pet names, some teacher/student fantasizing, Obi-Wan is still a massive tease, fucking in a supply closet

Word Count: 6.9 K

It's infuriating to know that Obi-Wan is back in the Temple, but that he's too busy to see you. Between Council meetings that drag for hours, more private gatherings with members of the Senate to discuss what the next move in the war should be, and allowing the poor man time to rest, Obi-Wan has been home for more than a week. You've barely caught more than a glimpse of him. Still, it's nice to have him present in your mind.

You know he's still in the Temple every day you wake up to a glowing good morning, love, his happiness to be near you radiating like sunshine even if you haven't had the time to see one another. It’s not safe to talk back and forth, but sometimes if one of you is particularly bored, you’ll trade a few sentences.

Master Yoda is on a roll today. Send help. Starting to think backwards I am.

Pity you I do.

Very funny, petal.

Then he’d be gone again, fading out before anyone got suspicious. The sudden absence hurts, but not as much as having him gone from the Temple entirely. At least here, you can feel him. You know he's safe.

In contrast to Obi-Wan's breakneck schedule, you've had almost nothing to do. It's full-on spring on Coruscant now, the warmth driving cold and flu season away. You have no colicky little ones in the creche to fuss over, no sick Padawans. The most you might see are some old Masters who need their aching bones tended to, or a quick training accident that needs mended. You haven't shipped out to a war-stricken planet in a while, either. It's strange to have downtime. Strange and frustrating, knowing Obi-Wan is nearby but still not close enough. Having a spare moment between all the illness and injuries is a good thing, and you're grateful. If only you weren't so restless.

-----

It’s rare -- almost impossible -- that you get to take the entire day off, but that’s exactly what you’ve been told to do. The medbay sits empty except for a couple of droids, instructed to deep clean while there are no patients. Even Master Allie appears to be taking it easy; her Force is calm as she bids you goodbye. She insists that if anyone turns up in need of healing, she and Barriss Offee would be on call to take care of it. You bow to her and leave, excited about what possibilities this could open up.

The first thing you do is check for Obi-Wan. Of course, he’s preoccupied. You duck out after feeling the level of concentration he’s exerting at something-or-other; it’s mixed with frustration and you don’t want to distract him. Like you, he’s getting more and more impatient with how busy the Council has kept him. You try not to let yourself be disappointed; it would be too lucky for both of you to be free at the same time, on the same day. All you can do is hope that you can find the time to be together before he has to leave again.

With your schedule more open than ever, you head to your favorite courtyard. The least you can do is soak up some Coruscanti sunshine. But only a quarter of an hour passes before you’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps on cobblestones, headed fast in your direction. Around the corner, scattering the kiros birds, comes a youngling you recognize. It's Gil Graven, a spitfire of a youngling you see in the medbay far more than others his age. He drives his minders crazy with his recklessness, but he’s a sweetheart. Even if you swear you have him admitted once a month for sprains and cuts.

Even now he trips and topples, would have earned the Halls of Healing their first visitor of the day, if you hadn't righted him with a quick pull of the Force.

"Easy, Gil. Where's the fire?" You smile, watching the kid tug his too-large tunic back onto his shoulder.

"Fire? There's no fire, miss. I was looking for you!"

His eyes go round with confusion, cheeks red from running. You forgot how literal younglings could be.

"I meant -- wait, looking for me? What's wrong? Who's hurt?"

Kriff. You should've known taking a day off would backfire. Something had happened in the fifteen minutes you’d had your butt parked in the grass. You get to your feet, gripping the pouch of emergency bacta on your belt.

"Oh! It's not a healer thing." Gil bounces in place, thinking. "But you're needed in the training halls! And they told me to find you quick!"

"Gil, calm down for a minute, okay?" The training halls? Why on Ryloth were you wanted there? "Who told you?"

He shrugs, unhelpful. “I dunno. I’ve never met ‘im before. But he told me to go get the Knight from the Healing Halls ‘cause no one’s been admitted today, and you’d be able to help him.”

You’re still not sure if this is a healer problem, or a matter of simple confusion. Gil’s got a touch of what healers like to call bouncy brain. Sweet as he is, he talks at lightspeed and can’t seem to concentrate if he isn’t moving. There’s a real possibility that he’s got something mixed up here. Still, it’s not as if you’re doing anything else. The Force must have decided that you need to keep busy.

You decide to see what he’s going on about. “Okay, Gil. Lead the way.”

-----

Lingering outside one of the larger training rooms is Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, who smiles when he spots Gil leading you over by the hand.

“There you are!” He crouches down to greet your youngling escort, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Gil, I am so glad you found our friend. You may go now.”

Gil bows to him, his Force blooming under the praise. “Yes, Master.” You both watch as he takes off the way he came, speeding back up to a run.

“No running!” You scold after him. He barely slows before he’s out of sight.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi chuckles. “That one reminds me of our own Anakin Skywalker.”

You nod, seeing the resemblance. Anakin is five years your junior, but he was still notorious when you were Padawans. Always turning up where he shouldn’t have been, Obi-Wan always three steps behind. Nothing’s changed, Obi-Wan often tells you.

“Master,” you say, hearing the low buzz of voices coming from the room you’re standing in front of. “Gil said you needed me? Is someone injured?”

“Hm? Oh! Oh stars, no.” Master Ki-Adi shakes his head, looking sheepish. “But I was rather hoping you’d be able to help me with a little problem I’ve run into.”

“Of course.” Okay, now I'm suspicious.

Ki-Adi tugs the end of his beard. “My squadron is being called out to fight on very short notice, I’m afraid. I was meant to teach today’s lesson, and was lucky enough to find a substitute for myself on short notice. But my instruction partner is leaving as well, and I haven’t yet found them a suitable replacement.”

“O-oh,” you hear yourself squeak.

Karabast. He wants you to teach? Your stomach drops somewhere near your ankles. This is so far from what you were expecting when Gil led you here. You can’t do this. You can’t.

Ki-Adi must feel your panic, because he continues quickly. “Don’t fret, my dear! My substitute is a very capable instructor. Follow his lead, and everything will be fine.” He claps a hand on your shoulder, turning away.

“Thank you again -- and now I really must be off.” And with that, he’s gone, walking at a brisk pace down the corridor.

CW starts here!

You’re so anxious that you feel like you’re about to be sick. You’ve done many things on behalf of the Council, often without knowing what they even were, but this? You can’t do this. There’s too many people. You lean against the doorframe, struggling for breath.

What’s the matter? Obi-Wan’s concern comes rushing in, and you’re grateful you have him to latch onto, to focus on.

Someone's asked a favor of me -- and I don’t think I can do it. You’re gripping your saber hilt too tight, the metal biting into your hand.

Please try to calm down. Find somewhere to sit and meditate, collect yourself --

Your anxiety is affecting him, making his own thoughts race even if he doesn’t know the cause. This sometimes happens. You’ve jolted awake in the middle of the night more than once with nightmares that weren’t your own, or had thoughts that didn’t make sense ‘til you realized they weren’t yours.

I can’t.

Why not?

You don’t reply. You have to go in there. Master Ki-Adi said that he was already late. Remembering your breathing, you focus on a count of four in through your nose, then hold the breath for a count of seven. When you exhale, you count to eight. After repeating the exercise several times, you can think straight. It’s not the more in-depth meditation Obi-Wan would have preferred, but it helps. All you can do is hope that the instructor carries much of the class, as Master Ki-Adi said he would.

When it feels like you’ve released much of your fear and uncertainty to the Force, you open the door and step in.

CW ends here!

Immediately, twenty pairs of curious Padawan eyes move to follow you, and you cringe. They all sit cross-legged on the padded floor. Three of the walls are lined with mirrors, the better for students to see fighting forms and sparring matches from every angle. On a side wall, a flimsi depicting each form of saber combat stretches the length of the room, cut off only by the supply closet where training accessories are stored. You’ve been in this room and its adjacent siblings dozens of times. But all that isn’t as important to you as the instructor, who’s turned to see why the room’s gone quiet.

It’s Obi-Wan.

Standing bare-foot on one of room-length training mats, in the middle of handing out sparring sticks to the class, he freezes when you lock eyes.

Oh, he says, equal parts shock and happiness.

Yeah.

I say this with the greatest respect, darling -- why did Master Ki-Adi send you?

Because the Healing Halls are completely empty. Also to torture me. You grimace, joining him at the front of the room. He nods to you in greeting, as if you aren’t having a mental conversation.

“Knight Courtee. Glad to see you could join us.”

“I apologize, Master. It was short notice for me, as well.” You bow to him.

Is this what you were so worked up about? They’re only Padawans. They don’t bite -- much.

Once the group realizes that you’re the other instructor that Obi-Wan’s been waiting for, the chatter resumes. They stop ogling you. From the looks of the group, they’re all in the late teens, and bubbling over with energy. Right in the middle of Padawan and Knight, but with all the arrogance to think they’re already the latter. Away from their Masters in a group like this, they tend to get far rowdier than they would otherwise. Each has a lightsaber strapped to their belt.

“Run me through the lesson?” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Quiet!” Obi-Wan demands over his shoulder, and you jump. The loudest cluster of Padawans instantly falls silent behind you.

Sorry, he thinks at you. I’m starting to see why Ki-Adi jumped on the first ship leaving the system.

“Amina, lose the gum. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Yes, now. Navo, do I have to move you to the other side of the room? Don’t think I won’t.”

Mumbles of yes, Master, break out before he turns back to you, satisfied. You don’t smile but know he feels your amusement.

“We’ll be running through some more advanced katas,” Obi-Wan says. “Then we’ll break them into pairs and focus on the saber technique of each pair. At the end of the lesson, you and I will give a demonstration on a chosen form. Perhaps more than one, if the class requests it.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit, thinking back to your own group Padawan lessons. You’d dreaded the paired sparring sessions, having your own form broken down and scrutinized. In the end, though, it had improved your skills. Being able to do the same for this group would be an honor. This is a big piece of being a Jedi, after all; skills passed down from Master to Knight to Padawan.

“It isn’t. Just don’t let them smell your fear,” he grins. “Let’s get started.”

As noisy as the group is, you can tell they’re genuinely excited to be in a session led by Master Kenobi. And Obi-Wan really knows how to lead the room. While you stand stiffly off to the side, nodding whenever he finishes saying something and hoping you don’t look like an idiot, he uses the space. He explains the lesson to them as he explained it to you, then asks if anyone has any questions.

The girl who’d been caught with gum earlier, Amina, raises her hand. Her other hand is busy twirling her long Padawan braid, like she can’t help but fidget with it. “Um, Master Kenobi, why are we using sparring sticks? We’ve had lightsabers for a while now.”

A murmur of agreement washes through the crowd, and Obi-Wan smirks.

“Good question, Padawan. Everyone, close your eyes and reach through the Force. Do you feel how tumultuous the energy in this room is? How excitable? If any one of you lit your saber in this room, I fear someone would lose a limb. And that’s something that Knight Courtee can’t fix for you. So we play it safe.”

Another hand punctuates the air, from the very front of the crowd. This Padawan seems younger than the rest, with hair that sticks up everywhere and eyes focused only on Obi-Wan. He starts speaking before he can be called on.

“All due respect, Master,” he says, in a way that makes you think that he’s used to sharing unorthodox opinions. The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth quirks up as he fights a smile, and you feel him think of Anakin.

“Why are we here? We’re fighting a war. Many of us have already seen combat alongside our Masters.” He lowers his eyes to the mat, afraid he’s gone too far. When his fellow Padawans start nodding and whispering, he tugs on the end of his nerf-tail, as if unsure of what to do.

Obi-Wan takes a moment to consider this question, hand going to his beard as it often does when he’s thinking.

“I appreciate your honesty, Caleb. And you’re correct. It might seem...redundant to spend your time here when even now fellow Jedi are fighting real battles.”

He pauses, thinking of how to continue. The Padawans are hanging onto his every word, the room silent. “But that’s why it’s so important to refine your technique when we can spare the time, in a secure environment. It will make you stronger when you face a real opponent. It might even save your life. Does that make sense?”

Wow, you think to yourself. He’d handled that beautifully. Even though Caleb had spoken out of turn, Obi-Wan hadn’t belittled him or made the teen feel bad about what was an honest and important question. He’d taken the time to consider the Padawan’s feelings, and had given him an equally honest answer, not something to pacify him. It takes you back to your own Padawan training, when Obi-Wan had been your instructor.

“Yes, Master,” Caleb ducks his head, looking relieved. “thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes search the room. “Anything else?”

After a pause, another hand goes up, toward the back.

“Millu?” You love that he knows everyone by name. Some Padawans turn around to reveal a burly Mon Calamari boy.

“Yeah.” His bright yellow eyes dart over to you. “Uh, speaking of Knight Courtee. Why are you teaching us? I thought you were just, like, a healer.” There’s no real malice in his tone, more like an off-handed curiosity, but Obi-wan stiffens.

Luckily you think of something to say before he can open his mouth. It wouldn’t look good for him to get upset defending you.

“That’s an excellent question, Millu, thank you.” You shoot him a smile, and you swear his scales darken with a blush.

“Being a Jedi with healing abilities does not mean that you get to neglect other aspects of your training. On the contrary, your connection with the Force must be powerful at all times. Healing will swamp you physically and emotionally, so you must keep both body and mind strong to withstand it.”

Your smile widens. “Of course, if you’re asking if you can best me in a fight, we’ll see how you match up during paired spars. Sound good?”

Laughter breaks out, and Millu blushes even darker before muttering, “Sure,” and looking away. Even if it seemed like he was questioning your ability to teach them (as you yourself are), you’re grateful the interaction’s lightened the mood.

Nicely done, says Obi-Wan.

“Very good,” he says aloud, clapping his hands together. “Now if we’re done heckling Knight Courtee, let’s begin with some stretches, please.”

------

Obi-Wan was right, you think, walking around the room. This...isn’t bad at all. You walk from pair to pair, taking in the angle of their weapon, how they hold their bodies, making minor corrections and leaving comments as you go. They look up when you come by, eager to see what you’re going to say to them. It’s much easier to interact with the Padawans on this smaller scale, and you find yourself joking with them, smiling. After a while, they even start asking for you, looking to see if you can demonstrate a move or if they’re holding the training stick the correct way. They aren’t scary at all -- just excitable kids who want to learn.

I’m sorry, Obi-Wan was what?

Looking up, you see Obi-Wan grinning across the room, demonstrating his own correction. In the middle of all this excitable teen Force energy, it’s easy for you to have a conversation and go unnoticed.

You were right. I like this.

And you’re good at it; they adore you. You’re going to make a wonderful Master. He shows you a brief image of a happy Padawan trailing behind you, eager to follow wherever you lead. It’s the best feeling, love.

Unexpected emotion rises in your chest at his pure sincerity. He knows how insecure you are about the fact that you’ll soon have your own Padawan to look after, but he doesn’t have a single doubt that you can do it. For the first time, you let yourself think of the situation in a hopeful light. It was a path you never pictured for yourself, but one that you know you have to follow. Obi-Wan makes it look so easy. Anakin, and even Anakin’s Padawan Ahsoka, look at him like he hung the stars. Of course, so do you.

“Last twenty minutes!” Obi-Wan calls over the noise of sparring sticks clacking together. “Take a seat, class.”

The Padawans rush to do as they’re told, everyone clamoring for the best spot to view your spar with Master Kenobi. They go completely silent, waiting for you to join him. A hush even falls over the Force energy in the room, like they’re all holding their breath.

Obi-Wan sinks into a bow when you’re opposite him, one hand on his saber. When you glance down in confusion, he sends a wave of amusement.

I said I didn’t trust the Padawans, darling. Not you.

Not sure if that’s wise. You bow in return, unclipping your saber also. He ignites his blade, the blue glow casting light over all the reflections of the mirrors. Taking a deep breath, trusting the familiar feeling of your own weapon, you ignite your lightsaber. The bright green light shimmers over your hands, crackling with your energy.

You’re surprised at how nervous you are. It’s one thing to watch him from across the room, to be taught by him as a Padawan yourself, but to spar with Obi-Wan as an equal? He’s going to wipe the floor with you.

“What form does Knight Courtee use?” You hear somebody whisper.

“Form five -- she told me.”

“Oooh, really? That’ll be fun to see against Master Kenobi.”

“Shhh!”

Obi-Wan waits until the group is quiet again to ask if you’re ready to start. Your saber hums hot in your hand, a little less controlled than you’d like it.

“Ready as I can be, Master.”

“Then let’s begin.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he’s in your space, much closer than you want him with a lightsaber in hand. You strike out instinctively and he expected that, anticipated it. He was baiting you. Your blade bounces off of his far more harshly than you like, the zyoom echoing through the room. You take a step back, try to calculate an opening. He mirrors you, waiting to react. It takes you longer than it should to realize that he’s shielded the bond up tight, not giving anything away. The only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the crackling of the sabers, each one fueled by its master’s adrenaline.

He keeps his blade held at eye level, and you lunge in for a mid-range attack. Obi-Wan blocks but you keep it coming, getting back into the groove of Djem So after spending so long out of combat. It feels good to have the saber be a part of you, to have it grow lighter as it remembers your touch.

Strike, block, strike, block. You’re working at a breakneck rhythm trying to get through his defenses, but Obi-Wan won’t give an inch. Sweat pours down your temple but still you press, using the Force to try and search for a weak point but finding none. He’s too kriffing fast.

There’s a reason they call him Master of this form. It’s infuriating, the almost lazy way he flicks your lightsaber aside every time, using your energy against you. There’s not a hair out of place on him. Every time you lower your blade, wondering what to do, he simply resets, content to wait again. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows you’re getting tired.

The Padawans are anything but quiet now -- some shouting Get her, Master Kenobi! while others insist that you can hold your own. Your eyes flick over to them once. Some lean forward towards the fight as far as they dare, a few are even on their feet in support.

When Obi-Wan finally tips his saber in retaliation, you barely manage to block, caught off guard at the change from defense to offense. He strikes again, again, again -- each blow more brutal than the last, each one so close to your skin that you can feel his blue saber’s sizzling heat. He’s driving you back against the wall. Despite your best effort, you’re losing ground where you’d previously held it. When you feel your back slam against the wall he was driving you toward, you gasp and fumble a block -- your last move. The blade of Obi-Wan’s saber hovers near your throat, a win.

“And that’s your head,” he says easily. You lower your saber and extinguish the blade, holding your hands up in a show of defeat.

The room erupts.

“Master Kenobi, that was so wizard --”

“Knight Courtee was letting him have it! Did you see --?”

“I wish I could have recorded that for the holo!”

“Settle down,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling. “I’m glad that you all have found this lesson so illuminating.” He bows to you, signalling the end of the match, and you follow suit.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to the room. The declaration is met with mixed reactions; half are glad to be free, half don’t want the lesson to be over yet.

“No need to hang around and help tidy this time. You were such a good group that Knight Courtee and I are glad to take care of it.” It’s traditional for students to stick around after the lesson is done and help roll up the training mats, collect the sparring sticks, and clean the room in any other way that needs it.

That statement really gets them out the door, though several of them whine about him being far cooler than their regular teacher and why can't he teach them all the time?

Once everyone’s filed out, Obi-Wan locks the door behind them. He turns to you with a long sigh, relieved that the loudness of all those teenagers in one place has dispersed.

“Well,” you say. “That’s not how I expected my morning to go.”

“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan replies. “I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t see you at all in my time home, yet here we are.”

“Like the Force willed it.”

He beams at that, drawing you tight against him. “C’mere. My bright little instructor.”

You grumble, cheek pressed against his chest. “You flayed me within an inch of my life, Obi-Wan.”

All he does in response to your grumpiness is chuckle, placing warm kisses everywhere he can reach on your face. “Yes. I did.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“I couldn’t exactly go easy on you, could I?”

No, he couldn’t. Everyone knows the extent of Obi-Wan’s skill, and while you aren't untalented with a saber, winning or even overcoming him would be unlikely. You’d fought honestly, and so had he. Anything else would have invoked suspicion.

He takes your silence for the correct answer, then gently pries your cheek from his body.

“Would it help if you got kisses as a consolation prize?” He’s looking at you so fondly, like you’re his favorite thing in the galaxy. You nod, already leaning on your tiptoes to reach.

Obi-Wan hums against your lips, sinking against you like he’s been waiting for this -- because you both have. The kisses stay close-mouthed, but he’s pressing them onto you fast, his hands roaming you urgently. Your bond tells you that he wants to take his time with you, would have each moment stretch out for as long as possible, if he could. He wants to savor you. But arousal is winning out.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling back to brush his nose against yours. “Do you know how much restraint it took not to pin you against the wall and have you, at the end of our fight? To resist sending all the little Padawans away right then?”

You gasp, feeling heat stirring deep in your stomach. The honey-sweetness of his tone contrasts with his words, but he’s just getting started.

“There was such fire in your eyes when we sparred, kitten." Kitten. Yet another pet name to add to your already large collection. This one makes you blush, and you don't miss Obi-Wan's pleased grin. "I had to shut you out so that you wouldn’t get distracted by my, er, distraction.”

His distraction presses up against your leg now, thick and hot. Obi-Wan tugs the end of your braid hard, tilting your head back to expose your neck. You whimper against him, all but letting him hold you up at this point. He loves it -- going to work at once nipping and kissing everywhere he can get to. His breath is heavy on your skin as he ruts against your thigh, trying and failing to bite back his own ecstatic moans.

“We’re alone now,” you choke out, hardly aware enough to string the sentence together. “s-so you can -- do whatever you want with me.”

This makes him pause. “Is that so?” Obi-Wan’s tone is still so light, like you’re having a conversation about what they’re serving in the refectory today, not how badly you want him to fuck you.

“Yes,” you say, embarrassed at how desperate you sound, how easily you melt for him. You can see yourself over his shoulder in the mirrors, and you blush, burying your face.

He laughs a little at your reaction. “What if I want to take you into that supply closet and bend you over?” His hand roams down your body, landing on your crotch. Two fingers rub a strong circle through the material, and you lean into it. “What if I want to take you from behind, make up for all the time we haven’t been together?”

“I’d ask why -- aren’t we already there,” you huff, blinking up at him.

That’s all the answer he needs. In one motion, he grabs you round the middle and hauls you over his shoulder like a sack of meilooruns. Your breath whooshes out, surprise and a lack of air keeping you from forming a sentence as he marches you to the closet as promised. The ground bounces and sways in your vision as you’re jostled -- it’s a strange sensation, being carried. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds.

Obi-Wan opens the door and closes it just as quickly once you’re both inside, making you aware of how small, how dark, the space is. You find yourself deposited on the storage bin that the mats are kept in, your legs dangling high in the air. He leans in to kiss you, nothing but hot breath and hungry hands, and you fist your own in the front of his tunic. It spurs him on, and soon his tongue is pressing into your open mouth, exploring every corner.

You moan into him, your fingers going beyond clothes to scratch against his chest. Obi-Wan picks you up again and you lift your legs around his waist, rubbing tight against his cock. He bears your entire weight like it’s nothing, continuing to kiss you as if your legs are planted on the ground. Stars, the strength, the eagerness of him, is overwhelming. His arms are pillars, holding you steady, crossed firm around your back.

"I thought you said," you gasp out, shivering when his tongue flicks out to catch your earlobe, "something about -- bending me over --"

“So eager today,” he says, his voice a tantalizing purr.

“Can you blame me?” you blurt.

"And what does that mean, dearest?"

He already knows what you mean. It’s everywhere in your mind. You can’t hide how you feel when you’ve been this close to him for so long, forbidden to touch him, to even think about it until you’ve reached your breaking point.

Obi-Wan, hands behind his back, patiently watching the Padawans demonstrate their forms. Nodding and sometimes stepping in to correct, placing his hand casually on an arm or leg to shift the balance of their weight. Then the Padawan he’s correcting becomes you, and his touch is no longer innocent. The group is melting away, and his mouth is trailing down your neck, whispering things that have little to do with the kata you’re struggling through.

“Oh,” he chuckles. “I see.”

You bump your head into his shoulder, too embarrassed to answer. As if to reassure you, Obi-Wan sends you an image back.

Both of you in the same training room, but you stand among your fellow Padawans, now all Knights, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot. You don't look that much different from the way you do now, but for the traditional Padawan's hairstyle.

Though you're seeing things from his perspective, the mirrors give him away; Obi-Wan looks younger, too. There are no lines around his eyes here, he holds himself more loosely. Like there isn't a galaxy-wide war. And he's less certain as he flits from student to student, new at this.

"You were always a pleasure to speak to, you know," Obi-Wan tells you, low voice right in your ear. He knows that he's teasing you, knows exactly the effect it's having on your body. You squirm in his tight grip, unable to go anywhere to get away from the softness of his voice.

"Polite and passionate. Made your Master very proud. But…" he trails off, and you shiver, anticipating his next words.

"So anxious whenever you saw me, weren't you?" He muses, fingers flexing on the curve of your ass. "And now I finally understand why."

"Obi-Wan…" you protest, unsure of what you're going to say next but just knowing that you need the teasing to stop. Both mental and physical -- he's hard against your abdomen, almost painful with how tight you're wedged against him.

"Down, love," he says. With effort, you extract your legs from around his waist and plant your feet on the floor, with his hands to guide you. "Turn around."

For a moment, you get excited, thinking that he's done teasing you. Obi-Wan makes quick work of your belt, dropping it to the floor seconds before your pants and underwear. You step out of them, breathing heavily, feeling his chest against your back. There's a clink, and you realize that he's dropped his belt as well, one hand bracing on your shoulder as he fumbles out of his own bottoms.

There's nothing between you now. Obi-Wan's bare dick rubs against your tailbone, leaving a warm dribble of pre-come.

"Now bend forward for me, darling -- that's it --"

You lean on the storage bin, heart thumping a tattoo in your throat. Obi-Wan lines himself up behind you, breath ragged, and sinks inside you in one long push.

"Obi-Wan, oh," you cry out, not expecting how full you'd feel from this angle.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he says, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. His mind is a high buzz of pleasure, looking forward to taking you apart in this new, delicious way.

Then he moves. So, so deep and slow. You let out a broken whine, toes curling. He pauses, holds his breath. Then thrusts again, just as unhurried as the first time, and your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth material of the bin in front of you.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Do you know, this reminds me of something.”

You groan, not out of pleasure, but because he’s stopped. How? Where and how did he find the restraint to torment you like this? You’re not sure which part of today’s interaction set him off, but you sorely wish that he’d get down to business and fuck you.

“What does it remind you of?” you ask tightly, figuring that playing along will get you where you want to be faster. As if rewarding you, Obi-Wan’s hands come around to find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the barest of touches. Gods if he doesn’t go faster --

He can hear your mind loud and clear, but says nothing, only sending a feeling of amusement back before answering your question.

"Watching you go through katas in this very room. Or, well, the room outside." Obi-Wan presses into your back, finally starting to push into you in a slow but satiating rhythm.

"Mmm," you manage, pressing your lips together hard to avoid reaching an inappropriate volume.

“Do you remember the criticism I had for you, little Padawan? You were so tense. Why was that?” All the while he’s languidly thrusting into you from behind. As if he expects you to form a coherent response.

“I l-liked you,” you stammer out, bracing yourself on the edge of the storage bin.

"Oh? Well, I liked you too. You were a wonderful student."

"That's not what I --" Thank the Maker that it's pitch black in this closet, because your face is burning.

"But for some reason," he continues, enjoying himself, "you always needed correction in solo practice. The other Masters told me, several times, that that was not an issue in their own lessons."

You can only whimper as he bears into you deeper. He knows exactly what he's doing to you. When you place a hand on your stomach, just above your belly button, you can feel him inside you.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Did you need my hands on your body, as desperately as you do now?"

"Yes, Master," you all but sob. "I need, I n-need --"

"Need me to fuck you?" Obi-Wan supplies, voice going rough and breathy. "Need me to wreck you, the way your mind is screaming for it?"

You slam the palm of your hand on the top of the bin, and it makes a hollow thud, sending pain shooting up your arm.

"Obi-Wan, yes! Please, please fuck me, I need it!" You're aware that your words border on incoherence, but not enough to care.

And he doesn't either.

Just as you've reached your limit, so does Obi-Wan. One of his hands grabs your wrist and pins it, hard, while the other squeezes your hip.

"Are you ready?" He pants in your ear, pausing only to nip at your shoulder blade. Already he's fucking you deeper, so good so thick inside you, that you're writhing under his every touch.

"Wanted to do this -- for s-so long --" Obi-Wan gasps out and so do you, the heat of orgasm reaching a crescendo in your thighs as you feel him come apart in your mind.

"Want to come so deep inside you, darling, oh please, please --"

You know that he's barely hanging on, waiting for your permission.

"Gods, Master, yes --" Like you could deny him this, when you want it so desperately too.

His forehead drops to your shoulder as he rams into you, shoving you against the bin. It takes everything you have not to scream his name when you come, gripping his arm -- the only part of him you can reach from this angle.

Obi-Wan isn't far behind, moaning loud behind you as your orgasm makes your pussy clamp down even tighter on him.

"Yes, yes, oh my Gods --"

The bond flares up sudden and white-hot between you, carrying the sensation of Obi-Wan's pleasure just as it had that night on Odryn.

"Kriff," you say weakly, clutching his arm like it's the only thing connecting you to the planet.

Sweetheart, I'm there, I'm right there

I know, and I'm -- me too --

Again?

Yes

Oh fuck, fuck -- I'm coming, stars, I'm coming, oh --

You come a second time when Obi-Wan starts to spurt inside you, tears spilling from the intensity of it all. With him this tight against your body, you swear you can feel every hot spurt of come shoot up inside you. Obi-Wan's teeth are caught in the material of your tunic, muffling his shout. It feels like you stand there, taking his come for minutes, as he shudders against you.

When it's over you whimper, leaning against his chest on aftershock-weak legs. Slowly, as if his head is one step behind, Obi-Wan puts his arms around you.

"Stars above, Obi-Wan," you mutter, every coherent thought fucked out of your head. Your brain feels like static, but your body's floating. Pulling out and turning you gently to face him again, Obi-Wan plants a line of soft kisses from your forehead to your mouth. His release runs heavy down your thighs, but there's not much you can do about it here.

"Not tense now, are you?" he says, tracing slow, wet circles over your sensitive clit.

You laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"No, I'm committed to a scene," Obi-Wan corrects, as if this was all an elaborate game.

You consider saying something along the lines of, I'm going to commit my boot to your rear end if you don't quit it, but think better of it.

Instead you re-dress, wincing at the mess you'll have to tolerate down your crotch and legs until you can get to the nearest fresher. This is the downfall of spontaneous sex. No easy cleanup.

"Next time, would you like to come with me?" Obi-Wan's asking. You snort, buckling your belt back into place.

"Pretty sure I just did. You didn't notice?"

He pauses, then opens the closet door, letting in a blinding slice of light. Though he's dressed, Obi-Wan looks disheveled and wide-eyed still in a way that you always adore.

"That's...no. That's not what I'm talking about, love," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"I mean, the next time I have to leave. Come with me. I think we've both come to realize that being apart is painful. And that being together isn't just a physical concept anymore."

His voice has dropped to a near-whisper, but you're hanging on to every word. Though you'd never admit it aloud, this is exactly what you want. To follow him instead of lying awake every night, worrying he won't come back from the last distant system he's shipped away to. You want to be beside him, no matter how rough things are.

You are a Jedi, not a housewife. And frankly, being kept in the Temple while he's away risking his neck, the bond blocked for days or weeks at a time, is torture.

Obi-Wan listens to all this, your outpouring of emotion through the bond you never meant to forge with him. He shows his understanding, his respect, his compassion for you, in return.

"Okay. Okay," he says, more to himself than you. "I'll speak to the Council. Knowing them, it may take some time to get an answer, but --"

You cut him off with a kiss. It doesn't matter. As long as you're together.

#come what may ao3 #wickedscribbles #obi wan smut #ziva courtee #obi wan x you #obi-wan series #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x oc #obi-wan x oc

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