#now we're contemplating our life again nice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinkovia · 9 months ago

Text

Yes, Lieutenant: VI

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Violence.

Yes, Lieutenant Masterlist

Two weeks had passed since Simon made a promise to you that he would stop smoking, and true to his word, he kept his promise. Now, he sat next to you, aggressively chewing gum as you both watched Kitchen Nightmares together. The tranquility of your afternoon was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of your phone.

Glancing at the caller ID, you saw it was Captain Price calling. An incoming call from him usually meant there was a new mission.

Answering the phone, you put it to your ear. "Hello, Captain."

"Afternoon, Y/n," Price's voice crackled through the line. "I need you and Simon at the base for a debriefing at four. We've got a search and rescue."

“We’ll be there.”

Simon wrapped his arm around you, "What does he want?"

"We're needed at the base for a debriefing in a few hours." He sighed and leaned back, clearly disappointed. "Wanted to finish this episode,"

You laughed and climbed into his lap, straddling him. Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his. You reached out to cup Simon's face, but as your cold hands made contact with his warm skin, he flinched involuntarily.

“Bloody hell love, your hands are freezing” You laughed and quickly withdrew your hands.

"I'm sorry" you apologized softly, Simon gently took your hands and slipped them into the pockets of his hoodie.

"It's alright, love, 'm just trying to keep you warm." he reassured you with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting tenderness.

You smiled and kissed him again. “We’ll be back tomorrow, we can order some pizza and binge the show,”

Simon rubbed your lower back and smiled. “That sounds bloody nice.”

Your stomach had been bothering you all day, a nagging discomfort that refused to go away. Despite the persistent ache, you kept it to yourself, not wanting to worry Simon since you had a mission in a few hours.

As you attempted to eat the lunch you had prepared, the nausea intensified, and you ended up rushing to the bathroom, barely making it in time before you vomited.

Concern etched your features as you washed your face and glanced at your reflection in the mirror. Was this just a passing illness, or a sign of something more serious? You couldn't afford to dwell on it for long; there was a mission ahead, and you needed to be at your best.

Simon threw you your cargo pants as you both got dressed for the mission ahead. "Wonder if the mission is going to be far," he mused aloud, a hint of curiosity in his voice. You sat down at the foot of the bed, slipping on one of your boots as you considered his question.

"Hope not, hate long flights," you replied, echoing his sentiment. Simon rolled his neck and laid back on the bed after finishing getting dressed. Once you had laced up your shoes, you joined him, laying down next to him and resting your head on his chest.

"Getting tired of work?" you asked softly, your hand gently rubbing his stomach in a soothing motion. Simon took a deep breath, contemplating your question. He cherished the moments spent with you, the comfort of being together at home, away from the rigors of their missions.

"Yeah, a bit," he admitted, his arms wrapping around your waist as he brought you close, finding solace in your presence. "I love staying in with you, being next to you all the time, knowing you're safe."

You sat up, leaning on your elbow and cupping his cheek with your hand. "Why don’t we retire then?" you suggested, your eyes meeting his as you expressed your willingness to leave their dangerous profession behind for a simpler life together. Simon's brows furrowed in surprise at first, then softened as he processed your words.

"You would retire, love?" he asked, his gaze searching yours for sincerity. You nodded, your smile widening.

"Don’t get me wrong, I love our job, but I love you more," you reassured him. His smile mirrored yours as he leaned in to kiss you, his arms tightening around you in a warm embrace.

"After this mission, we can binge-watch Kitchen Nightmares with no interruptions," you promised, a playful glint in your eyes. Simon laughed against your lips before flipping you over, showering your neck with affectionate kisses, cherishing the precious moments with you before the impending mission.

As you felt the queasiness rise, you turned to Simon in the driver's seat, your hand gripping the door handle tightly. "Simon, can you pull over at the next gas station, please?"

Concern etched his features as he glanced at you. “Are you feeling sick love? There's a plastic bag in the glove compartment.” You quickly grabbed it just in case you didn't make it to the restroom in time. As Simon quickly pulled into the parking lot you quickly grabbed your purse and opened the door.

As you hurried out of the car and into the gas station, Simon's worried voice trailed after you, "Do you want me to go with you, sweetheart? Are you sure you’re okay?" You nodded, not trusting your voice as you rushed inside.

In the dimly lit restroom, you collapsed onto your knees in front of the toilet, your stomach lurching. The sensation of nausea overwhelmed you, and you retched, emptying the contents of your stomach. You wiped your mouth with a piece of toilet paper and flushed the toilet.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you washed your mouth out with water before stepping out of the stall. Passing by the candy aisle, you grabbed a pack of gum, but your attention was diverted when you spotted a display of pregnancy tests nearby.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, a rush of anxiety flooding your senses. Panic surged through you. Could it be possible? Your mind raced with questions, and despite the uncertainty, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread. Should you take one just in case?

Your hand reached out almost on autopilot, grabbing a test along with the gum before heading to the register to pay. The cashier gave you a polite nod as you quickly grabbed your bag and rushed back to the restroom.

With trembling hands, you tore open the box and followed the instructions carefully. Placing the test on the sink, you waited anxiously for the results. A minute felt like an eternity as you stared at the test, your heart pounding in your chest.

Finally, summoning the courage, you reached out and picked up the test. Your heart sank as you saw the two red lines, confirming your worst fears.

You were pregnant.

You heard a knock on the door, causing you to jolt. "Sweetheart, are you okay in there?" Simon's voice carried concern, prompting you to act quickly.

"Yeah, give me a second, I'm coming out," you replied, your heart racing as you hurriedly turned on the sink to wash the pregnancy test and conceal it in your pocket.

As you opened the door, Simon's worried expression greeted you. He reached out to feel your forehead, checking for signs of fever. "Are you okay, love? You're pale."

"I'm okay, Si," you assured him, trying to sound convincing despite the turmoil inside. "I mean, I threw up, but other than that, I'm okay. I feel better now."

His brows furrowed with concern at the mention of your vomiting. "Was it something you ate? Are you sure you're okay, love? Price will understand if you need to sit this one out—"

"Maybe it was the takeout from last night? I'm not really sure, but trust me, Si, I feel a lot better now," you interjected, trying to ease his worries. To further reassure him, you let Simon buy you some Pepto-Bismol tablets, even though you hated the taste.

Throughout the drive to the base, the pregnancy test in your pocket seemed to weigh heavier with each passing mile. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts as you debated whether to reveal the news to Simon now or wait for a better moment.

As Simon focused on the road ahead, you couldn't shake the uncertainty gnawing at you. Would he be overjoyed or overwhelmed?

Should you wait until after the mission, giving a more relaxed environment for something so significant? Maybe you could plan something cute and creative to surprise him with the news at home, making it a special moment for both of you.

With each option playing out in your mind, you found yourself leaning toward waiting until after the mission. It felt like the right choice, allowing you both to focus on the task at hand and ensuring a more intimate and meaningful moment to share the news together.

As the base drew closer, you made up your mind to hold off on telling Simon, but the anticipation of the news only added to the weight of the test in your pocket.

You smiled in the passenger seat, a sense of joy and contentment washing over you. Not only were you both going to retire, but you were also going to have a baby.

"What’s got you smiling, love?" Simon glanced over at you, curiosity evident in his voice.

"I don’t know, I’m just happy. I’m glad we are retiring. We can finally be at peace, you know?"

"No more guns, no more blood, no more danger," Simon chimed in, a grin spreading across his face, "just Gordon Ramsey yelling at people with shite restaurants."

You laughed and Simon rested his hand on your thigh as he continued to drive, a silent reassurance of his presence.

When you entered the base, you both headed straight to the debrief room where Gaz, Soap, and Price were waiting.

“You bloody lot are late,” Gaz remarked, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

“We’re on time,” Simon retorted, a hint of defiance in his tone.

“On time is late, L.t.,” Soap added with a click of his tongue and a smug smile.

"I’m sorry, Captain. It was my fault," you interjected, taking responsibility, "we had to stop on the way. I wasn’t feeling very good.”

“Are you a hundred percent?” Price placed his hand on your shoulder, tapping it gently, concern etched on his features.

“Tip top shape,” you assured him with a nod.

With that, Price began discussing the details of the mission. It was a simple search and rescue operation for a government official's kidnapped daughter. The intel was clear, and it was now a matter of executing the mission swiftly and efficiently.

"The people that took her are gang-affiliated, no cartel, no missionaries," Price explained, "should be a clean in and out."

With the briefing concluded, you all geared up and made your way to the helo, ready to embark on the mission ahead.

As the mission took a terrible turn, gunfire erupted all around you. Bullets zipped through the air, and the chaos was overwhelming. You found yourself crouched behind the crumbling remnants of a building, your heart pounding like a jackhammer in your chest.

The search and rescue had been nothing but a ruse to lure you into an ambush. Now, you were caught right in the middle of it. Your team was a couple of buildings over, leaving you feeling isolated and vulnerable.

Simon's voice crackled over the comms, filled with fear and concern. “Sweetheart, where are you?! Are you safe?” His words sent a jolt of reassurance through you, even amidst the chaos.

“I’m safe, Si,” you replied, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “Do you see the smoke west of our entry point?”

Simon scanned the area, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched for any sign of the smoke you mentioned. “I see it. I’m coming to you, love. Don’t you dare move from there.”

His words provided a tether to reality, and you obeyed his instruction, hunkering down behind your limited cover and keeping a vigilant eye out for any approaching threats.

Your heart raced as you waited for Simon to come to your rescue, every passing second feeling like an eternity.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to his words, finding solace in the fact that he was racing to reach you. When you heard his voice over comms, relief flooded through you. "Look north, do you see me behind the building?"

You turned in the direction he indicated and saw Simon crouched behind the building, "I see you," you replied, your voice quivering with emotion.

"Do you think you can get to me? I only have one smoke, it will give you cover on your left side," Simon's voice was urgent, filled with concern for your safety.

You glanced towards your left, where bullets were whizzing by, then back at Simon. “Yeah, I can make it to you,” you said, your voice determined despite the chaos around you.

“I need you to run as fast as you can, sweetheart,” Simon's voice trembled with worry and dread.

“Throw it, Si,” you urged, your adrenaline pumping as you braced yourself to sprint.

Simon pulled the pin and threw the smoke grenade. The white smoke expanded, providing you with cover as you bolted towards him as fast as your legs could carry you.

The world seemed to blur into chaos as you ran, the deafening sounds of gunfire and explosions ringing in your ears.

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion to your right, and you turned to witness the fiery demise of an enemy helicopter, torn apart by relentless gunfire.

The helo was crashing dangerously close to your position, the fiery debris raining down around you. The sight sent a jolt of adrenaline through you as you continued your mad dash towards Simon.

In the chaos, a piece of shrapnel tore through the air, piercing your stomach with searing pain. Shockwaves rippled through your body as you stumbled back, trembling fingers reaching to touch the deadly intruder protruding from your abdomen.

Blood began to ooze around the embedded metal, staining your gear. Simon's voice sounded distant, an echo in your ears as you attempted to stagger towards him, still determined to reach him. His figure seemed frozen in place, his expression laced in shock and pure agony as he watched the scene unfold before him.

He began to run, desperation etched across his face as he saw you falter, your legs giving out beneath you, and you crumpled to the ground.

In a blur of motion, Simon was by your side, his hands trembling as he assessed the gravity of your injury. With a sense of urgency, he scooped you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest, and sprinted back toward the relative safety of cover.

Through the haze of agony and shock, you clung to the warmth of his embrace, finding solace in the familiar strength of his arms. You knew you were in the hands of the one person who would stop at nothing to keep you safe.

As Simon navigated through the chaotic scene, his mind raced with thoughts of the past. He couldn't help but recall the similar situation two years ago when he had carried you in his arms to the med Evac. But this time, the situation was even grimmer.

You were cradled in his arms, your body limp and fragile. Blood trickled from the corner of your mouth as you struggled to breathe, each breath a laborious effort.

The piece of shrapnel embedded in your stomach caused excruciating pain with each step he took, but Simon pushed forward with determination, his heart racing with fear and anguish. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, not after everything you both had been through together.

With every labored breath you took, Simon's resolve strengthened. He would get you to safety, and he would do whatever it took to save your life.

When he finally managed to reach the helo, he carefully set you down on the stretcher. The helo's engine roared to life, lifting into the air, carrying you away from the battlefield.

In that critical moment, as you lay on the stretcher, your strength waning, you fought to speak with him. Blood dribbled from your mouth as you struggled to speak his name.

"Simon," you managed to croak, the effort causing more blood to spill from your lips.

His face contorted with anguish as he held your hand, his voice desperate. "No, Y/n. You're going to be okay. You're not going to die. That's a fucking order, Y/n."

With a soft and weakened smile, you replied with the last of your strength, your voice barely above a whisper,

"Yes, Lieutenant."

225 notes · View notes

noirsfantasy · 1 year ago

Text

On the fifth day of Christmas…

𝔄 𝔓𝔲𝔫𝔨 ℜ𝔬𝔠𝔨 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔰

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Hobie Brown x Black!Fem Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔥 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛1.5K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ It’s time to decorate the tree, although it’s not going according to plan. You had the perfect idea of how a Christmas tree should look. However, your boyfriend, Hobie, had other ideas. You both begin to argue and it seems to be going no where. Words are said and feelings get hurt. Will you be able to fix this?

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ Guys, I can confirm that Hobie is just a big kid on the inside. But while some might think he’s spewing nonsense, he might actually have a point. I hope you enjoy!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

“No, Hobes! It doesn’t go there.” I swat Hobie’s hand away from the tree as he attempts to place one of his Star Wars ornaments in the center. It's Christmas Eve and Hobie and I are facing off in front of a pile of decorations. This familiar argument about how to decorate the tree is playing out for what feels like the millionth time. My preference leans towards a more structured and organized aesthetic, while Hobie leans towards a free and chaotic approach, arguing that an orderly tree is a submission to capitalism.

“Right, how 'bout this, then?” Hobie holds up some blue tinsel, and I immediately push his hands away from the tree once again.

"I'm not putting that on the tree, Hobie. It goes gold and then red! Blue shouldn’t be anywhere near this tree." I explain while wrapping the red tinsel around the tree. Hobie rolls his eyes.

“What’s the issue? Blue’s a good color.” He throws his hands up, looking at me incredulously. Ignoring him, I continue sorting through the decorations for matching ornaments.

“Oh, so you're just gonna let the suits dictate your every move, huh? You gonna let the capitalist drones run your life?" Hobie accuses, snatching the tinsel from my hands and wrapping it the opposite way.

"Oh, don't start that, Hobie. I just want our tree to look nice and neat this year." I argue, reclaiming the tinsel and wrapping it correctly. Hobie persists, emphasizing his disdain for conforming to holiday traditions dictated by corporations.

“Yeah, you're just a conformist sheep, ain't ya? No clue what's really goin' on, just followin' the herd. Wake up, man!” He says angrily, wrapping the tinsel even more so. He looks at me as if I am completely clueless.

"Conformist to what? Santa Claus's evil agenda?" I mock, yanking the tinsel out of his hands. Hobie snickers, but he doesn’t look impressed.

“The corporations are manipulating the spirit of Christmas, so you’ll buy presents! Can’t you see that, you wanker?”

"Who gives a damn? It's Christmas for Christ's sake!" I throw my hands up and it seems our conversation is getting out of hand. Hobie scrunches up his nose as the argument escalates.

“Exactly! It’s Christmas! The day when you’re supposed to be spending time with people you love, not maxing out your credit card on useless junk. Can't blame ya, it's that corporate mind game. Same goes for Valentine's Day—just another cash grab, man!” He starts to enter into his rant about how Valentine’s Day is pointless. Ignoring his conspiracy theories, I redirect our focus.

"Don't even start! Listen, we're not putting your stupid Star Wars ornaments on the tree and that's final. Now stop arguing and hand me those angel ornaments, will you?" I huff as I hold out my hand, determined to maintain order.

“These Star Wars ornaments are rad! Come on, just a little—” Hobie protests, attempting to convince me to allow at least one Star Wars ornament. "How 'bout just the Baby Yoda? Stick it in the back, it'll be lowkey." I sigh, contemplating the idea for a moment.

"Fine, you can put it right there." I relent, pointing to the spot on the tree. Hobie's face immediately lights up when I give in and allow him to put a baby Yoda ornament up, near the back. Despite his punk rock appearance, he actually has a soft side.

"Cheers, luv," Hobie smiles at me. He quickly unwraps the baby Yoda ornament and carefully placed it where I pointed, and then steps back to admire the result. I cringe at the way it clashes with my previous work.

“So what do you think?” He asks, looking over at me. I don’t really respond, instead looking off to the side. Hobie’s smile begins to fade when he realizes that I am unimpressed by the result of his handiwork.

“What’s wrong with it?” His facial expression turns into one of confusion. “I think it turned out pretty nice,” He said, defending his choice of decoration.

"It doesn't match, Hobes. It looks out of place like I knew it would." I grumble, crossing my arms. Hobie looks at me, genuinely hurt, and his expression turns sad.

"Sorry, luv..." He apologizes, his voice soft and sincere. "I just thought it would be cool... But I guess I don't know anything about aesthetics." He puts his hands in his pockets and lowers his head. He seems genuinely upset that I didn't like his contribution. Hobie turns away from me, deflated as he walks out of the room. I feel a twinge of guilt as I turn to look back at the tree.

His shoulders are hunched up and he is obviously disappointed. As he leaves the room, he mutters, "Stupid Christmas tree..." under his breath. I can't help but feel a bit guilty as I continue to look at the tree.

I stare at it, watching the out-of-place ornament, and thinking, 'Is it really worth it?' I just made a whole argument out of something we were meant to be doing together. I'd put my need for perfection over my own boyfriend and now he's upset. And why? Because some baby Yoda ornament didn't match my idea of what a Christmas tree should look like.

It really clicks in my head. Hobie wasn't just being a nonconformist or trying to ruin the tree. He was trying to have fun with his girlfriend and decorate the tree in a way that shows both of our creativity. I sigh as I turn away from the tree and run to the kitchen to where Hobie is.

"Hobie? Babe?" I find him sitting at the kitchen table with his back towards me. He seems to be focused on something, probably sulking. I call his name again and he slowly turns to look at me.

"Yeah, luv?" He asks, trying to sound cool and nonchalant, but his hurt expression betrays him. I sit across from him and look into his eyes. He avoids my gaze. I place my hand gently on his and bite my lip as I try to find words.

"Hobie, I'm sorry." I start. Hobie feels a wave of relief wash over him when I apologize. He looks up at me and his expression softens. He's clearly still hurt, but he seems much more relaxed knowing that I still care about his feelings.

"It's alright, luv," Hobie replies, giving my hand a little squeeze as he looks into my eyes. "I might've gone a bit overboard, I get it. The Christmas vibes hit me hard, you know? Just wanted to make it extra special 'cause I know it's a big deal for you. And-" He pauses as I press my finger to his lips.

"No, Hobie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, or tried to shut down your ideas. This isn't my home and that isn't my tree. It's our home and our tree. And it should reflect both of our creativity, not just what I think it should." Hobie's face brightens as I say that. He is a bit taken aback by my admission, but also really appreciates it. His expression turns into a smile as he stands up, pulling me with him.

"That's... really sweet, luv." He says in a soft voice and pulls me into a warm hug. "And you're right, this is our home, and it should reflect both of our tastes." He pauses and then speaks again in a more playful tone. "Even if you have bad taste."

I push away from the hug, feigning a look of offense as I playfully swat his shoulder. "I do not have bad taste!" Hobie pulls me back in and leans in to kiss my lips.

"Yes, you do. But at least you're pretty to look at." He says in a joking manner, then gives me another kiss. His lips press against mine with a tender and passionate intensity. His tongue brushes along my lips momentarily before he pulls his head back, keeping his lips close to mine.

"So, do you wanna take a break from decorating the tree and, you know...?" He trails off suggestively with a smirk and I laugh, rolling my eyes.

"Babe! We need to finish the tree!" I manage to say between giggles as I try to escape his grip. He doesn't let me pull away, instead he picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"Tree's not going anywhere, luv. We can decorate it tomorrow." Hobie mumbles against my skin, kissing my neck and starts walking towards our bedroom.

"But tomorrow's Christmas!" I shout before the door slams shut.

91 notes · View notes

dont-look-me-in-the-eye · 5 months ago

Note

6. what is something that you’ve always wanted to do but have never been able to do?

so, before i answer this, you'll probably need some context.

2013 was the worst year of my life. i'm not sure why exactly. i think it was a combination of a couple factors. i was a kid, bad shit happened around that time, i couldn't speak english, whatever. it doesn't really matter, you just have to know that 2014 was the worst year of my life. i could answer this question straight-forwardly, but i'm a tricky bastard who likes telling stories. this one is true, though, and i've been trying to get better at telling true stories, rather than ones where the truth is filtered through at least 3 different running jokes i have with myself to prevent an ounce of genuine thought coming out of my head, because vulnerability scares me. what was i saying again? oh yeah. lemme start at the beginning;

i wasn't really the type of kid to play. i mean, i did mess around with a monster truck that my cousin left at our house, i had a little wind-up spiderman four-wheeled motorcycle (with no spiderman in sight, btw. i don't know what happened to him), and i enjoyed making up elaborate torture stories involving princess dolls and a few action figures we had laying around. but i didn't really play. playing like that was a chore.

i was, well, to put it a better way, annoying. i was the kind of kid to ask why a billion times until - actually, i don't remember. my memory of that time period is foggy. the point is, we were annoying.

so, when i learned to read, that was a trip, right. like, an entire world in your hands. someone who knew me back then would say that i was a bookworm. i'm not. reading is also a chore. but i got very good at looking like it was not.

fast-forward to around 2020ish. ah yes. the Unspeakable Years. when we got here, it's just... an eternity of 'meh'. nothing to do but to lounge around, wake up late, sit in a chair all day for school, blah blah, blah blah blah. not the worst years of my life, but the most... painful. because i wasn't really learning anything, and that makes me miserable. it also took almost four years to recover from.

anyways, going back again, at some point my parents got annoyed with me and decided to propose other avenues for information other than them. enter: the library. we went almost every day. we got most of our dvds from there. it's trashy and actually inside of a tiny school that most people avoid sending their children to, right next to a train station so it rumbles every twenty or so minutes, and has quite a limited amount of titles, so if you ask if they have a specific book, chances are, they don't. i still think it's the best place in the world.

when i say i didn't learn anything, i did, actually, but i didn't find a puzzle, anymore. i can't solve what's not there. it was just - gone. devastating. blank. nothing.

you know, i didn't play that much, but i used to entertain myself by staring at a wall and furiously contemplating questions. like why do things bounce and how does a pen work? it took taking apart a few pens to figure that one out. there's a satisfaction in discovering elegant solutions to mundane problems.

2013. 12? 15? it doesn't matter. you are sitting with me, as i am now, in our old house. ignore the police sirens. we are... outside. backyard, on the porch. it's nice. the sun is setting. have you ever wondered why the sky turns different colors when it sets? it's because of how fast different colors travel on the visible spectrum - ah. you're bored. let's go inside, we've seen this a billion times. we're in the kitchen. if you listen closely, you can hear a child pleading upstairs. ignore that, that's me. you can guess what's happening, i'm not gonna tell you.

i love reading. well, no, i don't like reading, i like hearing stories, i like learning new things. i find that i know a bit more than most kids my age. a little too much more.

let's go to me a few weeks ago. i'm sitting in the garage, new house. much bigger, sirens only a few times a month. even less. i'm staring at the floor, trying to understand derivatives because what the fuck. this is a common theme in my life. now i am pacing around the room, assigning objects random values, trying to - well, you get the point.

i always wanted to understand. pain, pleasure, mechanics, everything. i always wanted to understand everything. yeah. it'll never happen. everything is too broad, and while infinity does not exist as a number, it is a very real adjective. a mere speck like me on a slightly bigger bluer speck like earth could never understand everything.

but goddamnit, i'm a tricky bastard and i'll be fucked if i never try.

#it speaks

3 notes · View notes

sophieinwonderland · 1 year ago

Note

About the plural artists conversation:

For those who have worries about being at a normal job with a singlet boss, there's a great video about this in the archives of the Plural Positivity World Conference, "2022 Working while Plural Accommodations, Automations, and Disclosure in the workplace"

It's possible to get free/pay-what-you-can tickets for each year's PPWC conference and then afterwards they send an email with a link to give you access to recording from previous years. Highly recommend

But also, yeah. The thing is, I have a LOT of experience with enduring sustained ostracism/harassment/abuse, and grew up thinking that I might as well put my resilience in that area "to good use" in some way (eg I grew up witnessing women politicians getting hounded by the press, and it looked pretty similar to what I was already tolerating in school, so I thought, I could endure that treatment in a job and maybe get some improvements underway). But also, at the actual time that you're busy Enduring, it's really hard to tell just how much it's affecting you, and in retrospect, I did develop good survival skills for that type of scenario, but I also developed CPTSD. If I faced the risk of publicity and hatred again, could it be "finding meaning" in my experiences and reinforcing my strengths as part of healing? Or would it turn into reliving past bad experiences and exacerbating things, making it harder to heal? There's no way of predicting how it would affect me.

So it's a question that I don't have an answer to, either. We should push for a world where succeeding in view of the public eye does not carry an implicit threat, and that project of social change requires a certain amount of openness. Like you don't get a queer civil rights movement if barely anyone comes out.

But also, one thing that I've been contemplating recently is the idea that our choices of how to behave depend on the social context that we're in. And there's a big difference between social spaces where people are trying to live genuinely and with equality and compassion, and social spaces where there's an inherent power imbalance that never really goes away no matter how nicely/ethically the specific people are. And in this capitalist society, with no universal basic income or meaningful safety net, any situation where you're trying to get paid is a situation where you are underneath someone in a power hierarchy, whether you're dealing with a boss or a customer or both. The consequences of poverty create power imbalance. Starhawk writes about this more coherently than I am right now, but you know what I mean.

It's one thing to love having plurality as part of your online identity, where you've got some degree of control over who you engage with, and whether you engage with them at all, because the social context is building a nice community online. But yeah, loving that experience is one thing, but the second money and dependence come into it, you're dealing with a different social context so the decision to be openly plural has a different meaning.

When it comes to surviving under capitalism, you definitely just gotta do what you gotta do. "Branding" is a matter of surviving under capitalism, and so is "controversy-as-promotion" - like, they're both just hollow strategies and I feel like in a way it's completely interchangeable - if you're not free to be genuine, and you have to pick a strategy for survival, then they're all equally bad options in way, because your hand is forced. It's hard to feel good about a decision when that decision was made in awareness of the threat of hatred and/or poverty, for me at least, I feel like no matter what way I end up going, the power and implicit threats set up by society mean that it's a coerced choice and not one made freely.

I feel like I'm sort of rambling, but this is something I think about a lot. My current life plan (and we'll see how that goes, lol) is to write under a penname, because my writing is an area where I want to be genuine and break away from self-censorship; but also, my Plan A is to have other jobs as my main income, so I'm not dependent on writing. For me, that feels important, I think I'll do much better and more meaningful, truthful work as a writer if I can distance that work from the fears and threats and coercion that are impossible to remove from paid work under capitalism. I don't know if I'm explaining this well. I feel like, when it's an unbalanced power situation, you can retain greater dignity and greater freedom to make choices without coercion if you lean heavily on having privacy. So in situations where I need to think about "making money" it becomes necessary to think about professionalism, branding, etc and so there's more self-censorship, and less genuine freedom of choice.

I already sort of have a split between "fandom creative work that can't be monetised" and "other creative work that is safe to mention to colleagues without weird reactions" so it feels natural to me to have multiple avenues for presenting things. I'm planning to publish things under my legal name that I wouldn't mind being seen if I was googled by a boss or landlord. Then the penname(s) can allow for more freedom and authenticity and creativity, for the "meaningful" work that I want to do as a writer or artist, where it would be nice to get money but it's not intended to be commercial.

Of course, I don't know how this will work in reality, since it requires both having time and having time-management skills to be doing multiple avenues of work at once - a lot of people end up finding that the pressure for commercial creation leaves them with no time to make their important art. I hope I won't get too stuck in that type of rut. But I feel pretty good about the idea of being a writer/artist who also has a day job part-time, and then going full "professionalism and privacy and strategically negotiating power imbalances" in the day job, so I've got room to go "full authenticity" in the creative stuff, without those psychological effects of being totally shackled to public opinion of my personal art for food and housing. I'm speaking as someone who has not yet really got an actual career off the ground, but anyway these are my thoughts about how I'm going to go about it in the future, and I feel pretty okay about this as a plan.

That sounds like a solid plan to me! And this is just an excellent post all around!

If anyone is interested in the video, I think I found it here.

youtube

11 notes · View notes

eccentricmya · 9 months ago

Note

how are you so Normal about silm. Literally I am sitting here, so depressed I can’t eat, drawing Them again and again and you’re just like. Oh here I’ll vilify Maedhros. Now I’ll paint him in a nice light. Why don’t we discuss it over coffee. Like Maedhros isn’t some figure who’s emotionally and psychologically a part of your personal identity I don’t get it. How are you so cool about all this. The world is falling apart

(oh by the way I think your blog is great).

Oh thank you! 😊

You pose a great question. I was thinking just yesterday if I'm not passionate enough for the fandom lol. The answer is maybe that I've mellowed out over the years. Though I still get obsessed with new things from time to time and want to read and see everything related at once! Much like you are now, I suppose.

But why are you depressed? Because of how Silm is or is it related to your artistry? For both I would say, enjoy the process! I know it's easier to say, but truly, the best part of fandom and creation is the fun you have here away from real life. If you make yourself stressed because of it, then it stops being a comfort and becomes a burden instead- at which point, I find myself turning away from that fandom or abandoning the fic idea.

Tolkien though, is like home to me. It's nothing new or exciting like some attraction at a fair; it's the same characters, the same story, but it feels relaxing rather than boring because of the familiarity. And when you're relaxed, it is very much like sipping coffee!

Let me give you an example... in Uni, I used to chug my coffee so that I could have more of it. If I finish one cup, then I can have 3 more! And the amount of time I got to experience the taste of coffee back then was around half an hour. Nowadays, I drink just one cup, which I savour for half an hour. I'm still spending the same time on my coffee experience, but now it is in a much more healthier manner.

Fandom is like that. The characters and story we love is not going anywhere. You are not going anywhere. So take your time. Take a walk with your favourite characters, instead of running after them. Let your heart decide the path you walk, instead of sticking to the already paved road. I swear you'll enjoy the journey far more this way!

As for having a crisis over our favourite blorbos? I cried buckets when Thorin and Fili and Kili died. I was so distraught that I had to wait in the parking lot of the theatre before I could ride back. It is normal to have attachment with characters, no matter how fictional they may be. But I do not think a single character can define your personality. Rather, it is your personality that gives meaning to a character you love. We're too multifaceted for it to be otherwise.

The same goes for characters. They're complex too and can have a multitude of traits that we may or may not vibe with. This is why we can have vastly different views or headcanons about them. Fiction is the realm of possibilities, we should embrace them all! And if someone else's take conflicts with mine, I can just go "oh, they're in a different universe of the multiverse; we can co-exist."

Sorry it got so long, I may have rambled off-point... your ask made me contemplative hehe. Thank you once again! Have a nice day! And remember to eat please!

#such a lovely ask #just fandom things #silmarillion #my inbox is always open if you wish to talk!

6 notes · View notes

from-aya-for-joel · 2 years ago

Text

Last chapter.

I kinda promised myself to write to you one more time when I finally able to write the ending of this story, and today is the day.

It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but I did it. I finally able to let go. For the first time, it took a toll on me, I could name it as the hardest parting to go through; but here I am now. I did great, aren't I?

And I have mentioned about this on previous posts, but I've decided to close my page on that world. Well you could still see me contemplating to go back or not, I am still trying but I am barely around. I also have decided to put an end to my love life in virtual world, with you as the last chapter. (Don't ask about irl, I don't think I want to date anyone at the moment either). You're my last love there.

Although sometimes I wish we could run longer, but maybe if we were given the chance, I might still hurt you in the end after all. I don't want that, I don't want to hurt someone I love anymore. We're fine now too, right? Just like you said, we're pursuing our own happiness now. We're doing good, as we always do.

I know I've said this few times, but I'm always thankful that my story ends with you. I am glad it's you, I will always do. Thankyou so much for giving me the best love that I could never pay back, thankyou for showing me that I am worthy of love. I still remember how you always made my heart in a mess, and how you awoke the butterflies in my stomach in every time we spent together. It was all beautiful feelings that I would always cherish. It was nice to be in your embrace, for you always show me the truest definition of warmth; like I always said, you're my safe space and the warmest and most comfortable person to be with. I am glad I could feel it again (and the last time, it was much better than before), I am glad I fell in love with you again. Remember when I said getting back to you was one of my best decision? That words are still valid to me until now; it was one of the best decision I took that time.

I really hope one day you could find someone who could give you the same (if not more) exact feelings that you gave me. I hope when you find that person, you will be the happiest you could be, like how happy I was to be with you. Thankyou for being the person I love the most, for everything.

Can I say this for the last time? I love you, I love you so much, Jo.

I hope one day if you remember me, you will remember that you're loved by me, that you made this person happy, that you're kept safely in my heart—I hope when you acknowledge this, you'd feel warm, and smile. I hope you'd smile when you remember me.

Please take a good care of yourself well, and you know I'll always be there if you need me. You know where to find me. I'm always supporting you from here.

Anyway, I won't tell you about this post and hope you'd find your way to this blog again just like the last time. Hopefully when you read this post, it won't make you cry again.

Regards,

Aya.

3 notes · View notes

the-firebird69 · 1 year ago

Text

💪 King Ragnar has just deserved respect of ALL the orcs in #warcraft

And our son picked up on this and there's a problem the guy's voice sounds very familiar and he's trying to sound like Stan but he does not and he's taking over like half of them and it's not a huge problem and they picked up on it and they fought and they stopped them and they pulled them out no they got rid of all of them and they found their people know but they preserve the bodies because they know about the situation

This is coming up pretty soon after Trump gets kicked out let's find out to be a bum

He's going around and he's ruining these groups and his own and he's disgusting does not have the program and is a loser we need to stop him and get him the hell out of here

Thor Freya

He's just a very weak Charlottan what he's doing is absolutely meaningless except he's ruining his entire realm.

Hera

My son says I want him in the office first thing in the morning and they're supposedly his offices but no he's sitting there saying he owes the company all the time and we're going to have a discussion with him and at one of the companies it's pretty big and was sick and tired of him saying it and he's slanderous and he's evil mean he's running around the company telling lies trying to get people to do stuff so you'll start to force him to sell the shares again and we're going to force his idiots out and we know what what happens after this we know what to do he's going to disappear fully

Thor Freya

Olympus

My husband says Trump also needs ESL courses but we don't provide them for idiots who are our enemies and I want my name taken out of his family and I want their lawsuit to go ahead and the way we described he said there's pieces that are started and I want to know what they are when they're going on or want to know here unless it's secretive and I want to know why it's secretive it's probably tell him and it's going to get out but so he's going to try and look at that

Hera

We noticed that these two are crying about it all the time and that this guy is a huge a****** and they need some satisfaction and her son has some and Hera has some and it really is nice about both of them and now this wonderful complete moron needs to leave Dave and it is working his life seems to be getting a little better and we will back them off but she needs to know what we're doing and there's a couple pieces that have happened to approach it and that is how it's going on and people can actually see it happening he is being stricken from the records that have her name on it and they're pulling them out and they're rewriting them and putting them in and the records are things that are able to be modified and is things that he was associating with her and had no right to and we're doing it with lawyers and he's getting really mad and it's in Boston and it's about co-owning businesses that she did not own and we're taking her off the records because he doesn't own those businesses anymore and the ones that he owns and she's on there we are taking apart and we are going to take her name off and when the company is in pieces and we have the pieces and we're doing it now he's getting pretty angry about it and she says I went out of the companies and so we're going to ask her and talk to her and he says that's fine we don't need her on there as a fulcrum it's not necessary she gets removed from the company and he thinks they're the company is not protected so we're going to talk to her about it cuz it's a pain but really they're doing tons of stupid crap anyways and he needs some heat and we're going on it now they sent another group out there of 300 million ships and they're gone and the warlock only have around 2 billion left and they're going to have nothing right now they're contemplating going up there to where the pseudo empire is to try and fool them and no they've already done it and they're amassing huge armies all over the place to go up there cuz they think that they're fooled and they're going to get surprised

Lobo and proxima midnight

We are going to assist here right now there's a mess these trumpsters are assholes bja is a****** and they think they can force whatever they want and they're going to lose a huge army and several contingents after and they're going to continue to search North and they're going to try and take these pseudo empire out and hv been harming them for a long time which is true. We're also looking at our son's idea of shipping out Porsche kits and several people want them and their son suggests you know like 20 20,000 ft speed shops that aren't doing anything or something along those lines and people agree that's a great way to do it and it won't attract that much attention and they want to start doing it and what we say is they're sitting around there's a bunch of kids for real and it's the normal five people that want them and there's probably a million kids for the Porsche 944 there's 200 million for the 928 300 million for the 911 and so on and their older kids but they all fit on the '80s version or '90s and '90s version and so on the VW and some of them are for the scirocco which not many people have and so we're going to pack them up and ship them out and we're going to either arrange to sell them cuz we co-owned a company or we have possession of them and then storage and we might need the company toy Warehouse there's a lot of these places that have them stored and really they're old and Dusty they've been around for a while but they still work

Thor Freya

We want to buy the whole lot and we want to talk about it

Meghan Markle

We have offers already yours is very good and it's for different stuff

Thor Freya

Good so send it and if you find more send that he says there's more because you haven't gotten there

Meghan Markle

It's true there's more and we're going to send them

Thor Freya

This idea is approved and he says that the Porsche program of his is a go and Ken is saying yes and they're going to begin it

Olympus

I'm really excited and I do want the 928 and he agrees it's one of the best and it's a certain year I believe 2007 and people say it'll fit on the newer Volkswagen and there is a Volkswagen that year but you can have a different one but still we're going to try and do this it's an outstanding idea because the Porsche it's not really that famous anymore but it's a very nice car and it's fast and you look like you're doing okay and you can make money with that look and I want to try and do that and see what the problem is here it's impossible for him we can go on day trips and we can go to Miami this place is for the birds they don't want to do anything make any money I can say I know like my auntie and there's plenty of women who want to be an old aunt that can fund some dumb project of ours Aunt Rose for example and she's into cars and for crying out loud that's a good idea in Miami there's a bunch of people and he might bump into Brian Gerard and he knows he knows how to do stuff this is what's nice we can do stuff like that and make it work and gerard can be grown up LOL just like a GF but no contact is needed

Ken

What the f*** that's stupid she didn't know me as a grown up person like in Hawaii Five-O I got to get this going that's pretty cool just say that I was stunted or something and he said no you're a late bloomer and people were saying that and sometimes happens when you started by something you didn't know we were stunted by and then I can be late bloomer and it works for the Max and others I'm going to get ready this is so much fun he wants to show us something about it and it's really farther so he doesn't know and mother and he still doesn't know

Olympus

0 notes

oneserendipitousjourney · 1 year ago

Text

06-25-2023

One month old.

It was the 24th, Saturday. I woke up around 8 a.m. I didn't have breakfast; I was too excited. I was just waiting for the clock to tick off to 11 a.m. I was a bit frustrated at that time because my dad borrowed my car; I'm left with a small car for our monthsary. What the fuck? Anyway, I left around 11:20 a.m. with an empty stomach, not feeling any hunger lingering inside me, my mind in frenzy, my heart beating fast. I haven't felt this way for a very long time. I was flabbergasted to myself: Is this really happening right now? Is this really me? As I drove on my way to our meeting place, I was smiling uncontrollably, reminiscing about all the memories that led to this very day. As I waited for her to come to my car, I looked at her from a distance while she was walking joyously, smiling, looking in the direction where my car is parked, contemplating if it was me or not because I'm using another car. I told myself, I'm marrying this woman in the next few years; I can't wait, while I stared at her smiling as she opened the car door. SHE IS SO LOVELY. Man, I can't wait to be with this woman for the rest of my life. She said sorry because it took her a while before she left her house. I said it was alright and drove to our target destination, to see the sunset. We talked effortlessly while we were inside the car. I was never bothered by the traffic by that time, but I was still complaining about the car I was driving. It was too small. She laughs at my jokes, and never fails to compliment me every now and then. She's perfect. I hoped for that day not to end. We parked in an open space parking area, walked to the nearest mall entrance, while she hold my hand while we both walked to find a place to eat lunch. We walked around the main mall and decided to eat at Popeyes. We ordered C4 and C1, respectively, and 10 chicken fingers with the Spicy ranch dip. She loved it. We're so full as we walk around the mall, explore it as if we've never been there before, talk, and laugh while we're walking to every corner of the mall. We bought our favorite Matcha Latte from BUT FIRST, COFFEE, and took a lowkey picture of our drinks as we walked again, eyeing the outside and looking for a spot to sit and wait for the sunset. We sat down on a not-so-noisy spot as we took pictures of the scenery of the bay. We also took "couple-fies" (HAHA). We talked about everything: how we met, how it all started, how feelings started to develop, and so on. I was genuinely happy. We waited for the sunset, but it didn't go according to our plan. It didn't show the full sunset, but only glimpses of it through the thick, dark clouds. But still, we're satisfied. We then went inside the mall again, bought some Koomi yogurt, and sat for a bit. She didn't like what she ordered bacuase it tastes like vomit. (HAHAHA). We thought about how time flies when we're together. We're both smiling. I loved every second of that day. We went home around 7:50 p.m. Surprisingly, there was less traffic than expected. I held her hand while driving, kissed it when there was an opportunity, and stared at her while she wasn't looking, feeling grateful and satisfied. We're already near her house. I felt a bit of separation anxiety as I stopped near her house, she kissed me on the cheek, told me "I love you", and walked home. As I drove alone, I thought to myself, I hope she had a nice day with me. She messaged me online and thanked me for a wonderful day. I smiled for like a good 10 minutes before I came to a stoplight and told her what I felt. I arrived home feeling happy and grateful. I wrote this blog before we talked on the phone. And I'm sure we talked until we went to sleep.

This was a FIRST for me. A non-toxic date, all smiles, all laughs, just pure love and joy. There is no feeling of uncomfortability. Finally. i know I'm with my THE ONE. I just know. I hope so. I believe so. I know. I love her with all my heart, always.

1 note · View note

caliburn · 8 months ago

Text

"Ehe~ Don't let her hear that, she's very proud of the café. But you're ambitious — that's something to be lauded. Wanting to establish so much, making your mark on the island even when we all begin with little more than the clothes we're wearing". Fondness softened her tone, Ritsuka was as stubborn a soul as they came, and equally selfless — she imagined the same of this man, with his desires to create so much.

And unlike her, he seemed to be genuinely carefree — if great responsibility rested on his shoulders, it hadn't worn down his spirits so just yet. A laugh escaped her in witness of the sauce concoction, then its effects on his tongue. Her fascination lingered in emerald contemplating his questions. Arturia Pendragon had been born for Britain's sake, and her life dedicated to that cause — she'd no personal desires, so when asked of any, her mind drew a blank with a modicum of discomfort. Maybe it was from being put on the spot unexpectedly, but each time she tried again, it was like words being just out of reach, and nothing came together.

What did she want here — not as a Chaldean, not as a Saber and not as a knight or king?

"I suppose... to have fun.

This city spares us the concerns of affording our living arrangements, as well as the necessity of both study and employment. You could say it's like freedom, although some would counter that it's all within a cage, so it cancels out. But I think there's value in looking at the smaller picture right now — as much as some want to escape this place, it doesn't seem to be possible, and there are so many questions we can't get answers for even after asking. If we get caught up in that... our time whittles away and before we know it, so long has passed, without having accomplished anything we want or enjoying the respite being here grants".

Running along the fry, her eyesight reached the end of its potato track and sprang toward his face, hoping to gauge his feelings in any reaction. it might well have been the idyllic ramblings of a child, but separated from all duty, there wasn't a great variety in Arturia's pastimes. "I like to bake and there's a lot of cute things on this island, many wonderful scenes you can witness from the right spots — you could take some breath-taking photos. If all that went by while my eyes were fixed on the sky, I'd be pretty upset with myself".

With a flick of the wrist, she tossed the fry into her mouth and chewed with a little glee from the tingle of salt dancing on her taste buds. "He's very lucky to have you. It's nice to know that he won't be waiting for you to return — I don't know how they're able to have time move here while it stalls outside, but that's another mystery they're going to keep us guessing on".

"Eh....cafe are overrated. I'm in the making something that stick business. I'm thinking a safe haven, a guild AND cafe all roll into one. End of the Road. I wanna build the light in the dark Arty. "

And a Casino. But Huey running painfully low on employee as he listen to Artoria. He is more...business savvy. He could maybe become her financial advisor. Of course he need to control how much money he takes from her. Last thing Huey need a bunch of knights of the round hunting him down for conning their king.

She not following what he saying as he sigh and motion her to enjoy herself more. Stuffing some fry down his gullet. Huey like a mad person grabbed EVERY KIND OF SAUCE there is. SQUEEZE it all in his own little pile and mix it.

That can't be safe

"SPICY!....I have no idea what half those words means but a throne of hero's sound nice. Those are all those who made a impact in history like you right? What about dreams Arty? You tell me someone as young and full of spirit as you don't have any? Every burger shop in Isola! The wackiest little plays. Excitement in life that make forever here mean anything. Sure you have responbility or what not in life and in chaldea. But your here now. You are not the King of England nor are you the defender of chaldea. What does not KING Artoria. What is something Artoria wants to do? No masters. No Subjects. Unless your telling me you seen, eaten, travel, went and done everything possible in these last two years."

Huey seen the King. The noble knight squire. He is now trying to pry into her as a person to not only get a better understanding of who she is but well....score some browny points.

Hey getting on a king good side don't hurt. What she lacks in gold. She more likely save his worthless little neck in the future. No way someone as righteous as her would let his neck be taken (unless he really screws up)

"Money? Not the point. I know funny coming from the guy who did the whole sword in the stone thing. But not everyday i get to TALK with a legend."

He....wince a little at the mention of relatives.

She must have her own Sir Kay huh?

"William fine. We Ponzis can go a long time without seeing each other. Beside the city return function make it seem like i never left right?"

A lie. Of course Huey got nobody left. But he sure as hell not going to trauma dump onto some wide eye knight squire. A youngster like her can't fix his MOUNTAIN of self pity and self image issues.

Because this isn't about him or his miserable existence.

#thegreatfraud #THEGREATFRAUD 1.#❀Huey M Ponzi.

13 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

Lan Yueheng promised Lan Qiren that he would wait to have children, but apparently a child choosing him as a parent doesn't count. That's how he became little A-Ying's father (aka baby Wei Wuxian).

A Quiet Life of Leisure - ao3

"So how do you feel about small children?" Cangse Sanren asked, swooping in without warning and making poor Lan Yueheng jump nearly a chi into the air.

In his defense, he'd been concentrating on his nightmare plants, and she hadn't bothered introducing herself with a greeting like any normal person. In fact, Lan Qiren was willing to bet that Lan Yueheng, characteristically unaware of what was happening in his immediate vicinity despite being startling well informed on gossip happening elsewhere, hadn't even known she'd arrived at the Cloud Recesses.

"He likes them," Lan Qiren said, dryly amused. Lan Yueheng's field remained under Lan Qiren’s window, so he wasn't far away, leaning close to the window from the inside to enjoy a bit of early summer sunshine. "More than I do, I suspect. Were you asking me or him?"

"Don't be silly, Qiren-ge. You like small children plenty, as long as they're your students or your nephews," Zhang Xin said from where she was sitting on the porch just outside the window. She didn't even bother to look up from the clothing she was applying arrays to - what arrays, Lan Qiren didn't dare to contemplate. The usual set applied by the laundry were enough for most people, but apparently not for Lan Yueheng’s wife…something which Lan Qiren completely understood and sympathized with.

It was, after all, Lan Yueheng. Things often exploded in his vicinity, and sometimes it was even on purpose.

Damn alchemists.

“My students aren’t small children,” Lan Qiren objected. “And my nephews…”

Well, they were perfect. That wasn’t his fault.

"Nephews...? Oh, right, there's a second one now! Brand new, right?" Cangse Sanren beamed. "You’ll have to introduce me, Qiren-gege! And I did mean you, in the first instance, though I suppose…say, pretty lady, you didn't answer the question yourself: any thoughts or feelings about small children?"

"Extremely positive," Zhang Xin said, not taking offense at Cangse Sanren very obviously not remembering her name. "I intend to have ten."

"Absolutely not," Lan Qiren said at once.

"I'm willing to compromise with slightly fewer," Zhang Xin conceded, retaining all her dignity, such as it was. "If necessary."

"We're waiting until A-Huan and A-Zhan are a bit older," Lan Yueheng said, that silly smile he always got when the subject was raised on his face. "Then we'll have some of our own! It'll be nice, having a big family."

"Think of A-Xin’s health," Lan Qiren said, disapproving.

"We didn't say they all had to be mine, Qiren-ge!” Zhang Xin protested half-heartedly. “There could be a second wife! Share the burden!"

“Don’t be absurd, Yueheng-xiong would never and you know that perfectly well,” Lan Qiren scolded, ignoring the way Zhang Xin smirked in satisfaction. “Anyway, I wasn't talking about your womb. Children are exhausting! Don't underestimate it!"

"We still have a few more years to go, given A-Zhan," Lan Yueheng said thoughtfully, and Lan Qiren flinched: he'd tried time and time again to convince his friend to start having children already and not to wait for him, worried as he was about them getting too old for it to be easy, but he'd had no luck. Bad enough they were putting their lives on hold to help with A-Huan, but now there was A-Zhan, too... “We’ll be ready by then. In the meantime, I’m putting together an invention that’ll let us move faster to chase after them with less effort.”

“Oh no,” Lan Qiren said, abruptly alarmed. “Yueheng-xiong…”

"You're all wonderful," Cangse Sanren declared, clapping her hands together. "Absolutely wonderful. Qiren-gege, don’t spoil their fun. In the meantime, Yueheng-di, tell me – what are those plants for..?"

"I'm not getting involved with this," Lan Qiren announced, seeing Lan Yueheng's face brighten with anticipation of sharing one of his hobbies with someone. He reached out to pull the window closed - he had a great deal of work to do, being acting sect leader, and he had hope that he might be able to spend some time with Cangse Sanren during her visit if he finished everything currently on his desk. Unfortunately, the only way to do that, however, was to spend time focusing on it right now. She had said something mildly worrying about dragging him out onto a night-hunt. He wasn’t sure if he ought to be excited or scared.

“In the meantime, Zhang Xin,” he said, pointedly enunciating her name so that Cangse Sanren could hear it and, if she had been the sort of person familiar with shame, feel bad about not knowing it. “Keep an eye on your husband, will you?”

“Oh, you’re married,” Cangse Sanren said in a tone that sounded strangely approving, looking between the two of them with an expression that suggested she was thinking of blowing something up. “Oh good, good, I have some questions –”

Lan Qiren closed his window with a snap, and then put several silencing talismans up for good measure. He did not, and to be very clear did not, want to know what Cangse Sanren, fairly newly married herself, wanted to know from a married couple. She’d always had the strangest blind spots when it came to what she so charmingly (and mildly worrisomely) called ‘human customs’…

At any rate, Lan Yueheng was a remarkably steady person, excluding his love affair with mathematics and alchemy, and Zhang Xin was extremely practical most of the time. How much damage could Cangse Sanren do?

Three shichen later, when the fire had been put out and the illicit gambling den that she’d managed to lure poor Lan Yueheng into thoroughly dispersed, Lan Qiren decided he had only himself to blame for the disaster.

“What do you mean Yueheng-xiong is gone?” Lan Qiren asked when he found out. “He normally logs all his travel well in advance of leaving the sect, and he hasn’t registered anything like that for this time. The Cloud Recesses is only so large, surely he’s just hidden himself somewhere you haven’t checked?”

“No, Sect Leader, he left,” the disciple said stubbornly. “I checked with the gate guards and everything. They said he looked like he was following some sort of compass.”

That…sounded like Lan Yueheng.

Lan Qiren did not need this.

He pinched his brow. “Someone go ask his wife where he might have gone,” he instructed. “And then go find him.”

He didn’t actually need Lan Yueheng for anything that important, but that wasn’t the point, the point was that Lan Yueheng was generally there. Rumors had been going around the cultivation world claiming that Cangse Sanren had died, rumors with enough truth to them that Lan Qiren regretfully actually believed it, and damnit he wanted his friend around – or more correctly, he wanted to know that his friend was somewhere nice and safe. Not outside of the Cloud Recesses’ borders without the slightest bit of protection or guards to keep an eye out for him when he inevitably forgot where he was going, and certainly not aimlessly following some new invention of his that was undoubtedly going to blow them all sky-high sooner or later!

Unfortunately, no one knew where he’d gone, and a sweep of the immediate vicinity of the Cloud Recesses didn’t turn out anything.

Even Zhang Xin had no idea where he might be.

“I’m sure he’ll be back sooner or later,” she said, looking undisturbed and above it all. “Don’t worry, Qiren-ge. It’ll be fine. He won’t be gone long, and nothing bad will happen to him.”

Lan Qiren looked at her suspiciously. “Are you pregnant again? You always get especially tranquil when you’re pregnant.”

Zhang Xin scowled at him. “You can’t extrapolate based on two instances, Qiren-ge.”

She’d had her first child, a little girl, when Lan Wangji was three, and then her second, a boy, just this past year. She was still nursing him, so all reason suggested that she was not pregnant again – and yet…

He arched his eyebrows at her.

She made a rude gesture at him. “We were going to surpriseyou with it,” she complained. “Why do you have to be smart and perceptive? It’s just rude!”

Lan Qiren shook his head at her – she wasn’t going to use compliments to get out of this – but he did feel his mood improve a little. Lan Yueheng was terribly unaware of his surroundings as a general rule, and his skill with a sword were positively horrific, but he was exceptionally stubborn, handy with an explosive, and remarkably lucky, as could be determined by the success he and Zhang Xin were in having in having children. More to the point, he was also an exceptionally devoted husband and father and would not, if there was any way he could prevent it, miss any key moment in his little family’s lives, such as a birth.

He would find a way to come back.

“Do you have any idea where he might be?” Lan Qiren asked, though he was rapidly giving up hope. “I could at least send someone to watch over him…”

Sure enough, Zhang Xin shook her head.

“Don’t worry,” she said again. “How much trouble could he really be in?”

Lan Qiren stared at her speechlessly.

“…maybe I shouldn’t have said that,” she allowed. “He has a history.”

“So I’m bad with faces, and actually I don’t think we’ve seen each other in a few years when you were much, much smaller,” the man in the white robes said, blinking owlishly down at Wei Ying. “So I’m probably completely off, but in the event that I’m not, is there any chance that you’re Cangse Sanren’s Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying stared at him without blinking, lest the man disappear if he did. “Gongzi,” he said. “You just blew up a building!”

“That’s true, but also a remarkably unhelpful answer,” the man said, and pulled something that looked like a compass out of his pocket. “Hmm, it’s spinning in circles again. I must be close by…if you’re not Wei Ying, could you help me find him? His mother asked me to look for him.”

Wei Ying squinted at the man. “No she didn’t,” he said. “She’s dead.”

The man at the inn had said so when he’d kicked Wei Ying out of the room he’d been staying in and taken all of his family’s belongings that had been left with Wei Ying while he waited for his parents to finish their night-hunt. Normally, Wei Ying wouldn’t believe it, but it’d been a few weeks of sleeping out in the streets and feeling very hungry because he couldn’t get enough food from what the merchants gave out or threw away and he was pretty sure if his parents were alive they would’ve come back to get him already.

At least it was still summer, or at least fall. The other street kids said that in the winter there was even less food, and they might even need to fight for it with the dogs –

“I know that! That’s why I’m here,” the man said. Was he pouting? “You see, I won her son in a betting game.”

Wei Ying blinked and stared at the man even harder. “How do you know that?” he demanded. “That was my mom’s special joke with me!”

It was the one joke that his father never laughed at, only rolled his eyes, so it had been his mother and his special joke, just for the two of them – she loved to tell him about how she’d infiltrated a gambling den (set it up, his father would interject; incited, she would correct) and how she’d put a bet down wagering her first-born son with the nicest person there, a sweetheart mark who was losing the robes off his back. And then Wei Ying, giggling, would get to say his part: If you bet me away, why haven’t you paid up?

His mother would kiss the tip of his nose. I won the lifetime rights right back off of him, she would say. Sorry, monkey, you’re mine for as long as I live.

And then she’d laugh.

Wei Ying didn’t really get the joke, but he hadn’t thought much of it. His mother laughed, so he laughed; that’s all that mattered.

The man blinked down at him. “Your mom? Are you Wei Ying, then?”

Caught, Wei Ying nodded.

“Wonderful! What do I do with you, then?”

Wei Ying blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother told me ‘when I’m dead, use this compass to find my son’,” the man explained. He looked very earnest. “She didn’t say what I was supposed to do when I found you. Other than you, who else can I ask? So, little Wei-gongzi…”

Wei Ying started giggling. This man was very silly. He could very easily see his mother tricking him into agreeing to take care of Wei Ying after she died – she was very good at tricking people into things. Had been very good, anyway.

Of course, that didn’t take away from the most important fact.

“You should buy me something to eat,” Wei Ying said, deciding to make that clear up front. “But – you blew up the restaurant!”

The man glanced back at the ruined building and looked sheepish.

“In my defense,” he said, scratching his head, “it was full of bandits that wanted to rob me. I think.”

“You think?!”

“…I’m pretty sure…”

Wei Ying liked this man, he decided. He liked this man a lot.

“So A-Ying, based on ages, you’re going to be the oldest,” Lan Yueheng was explaining when Lan Qiren finally found him, right back at his very own workshop table and carefree as if he hadn’t been gone nearly half a month. “See, there’s little Yanyu – say hello! – and baby Zhijin – yes, you can hold him, careful, he’s breakable – and there’s going to be another one soon, we’re thinking on naming –”

“You don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl,” Lan Qiren interrupted, even though it was rude, and swept in to help the young boy he didn’t recognize stabilize little Zhijin’s head properly. One year old or not, he was a wobbly child. “Don’t invite bad luck by naming too early. Where have you been? And who is this?”

“This one’s name is Wei Ying,” the boy said promptly, and Lan Qiren nodded in approval at his manners, then did a double take once the words actually reached his brain.

“Wei Ying?” he croaked, and had to sit down quickly. “Cangse Sanren’s Wei Ying?”

“Mine now,” Lan Yueheng said. “I won him fair and square, and the lifetime rights expired.”

“…this is about that gambling den,” Lan Qiren concluded, knowing enough about everyone involved to be able to follow that ridiculous logic. “Yueheng-xiong, you didn’t win anything. She was cheating you from the moment you sat down at the table.”

“Really?” Lan Yanyu said. She was nearly four, and precious with it – she had a marvelous talent for identifying the precise part of anything anyone said around her that they didn’t want her to hear and immediately starting to repeat it.

“My mom is the best,” Wei Ying said. He looked very proud.

“Even if she cheated me into it, I still won him, that’s how the game works,” Lan Yueheng pointed out. “Anyway, now that she’s dead, what else am I supposed to do with him?”

Lan Qiren felt that there were some flaws to this argument. He was certain that once he had recovered from the emotional blow he’d just taken, he would even be able to point them out.

Though…he really had no idea what the alternative might be. It wasn’t as if he could write Baoshan Sanren a letter – he’d been tempted to in the past, just on principle, but sadly one could not deliver one’s complaints to an unfindable immortal mountain – and as far as he knew, Wei Changze had no living family. He’d been a servant in the Jiang sect and close to their sect leader, so Lan Qiren supposed that Jiang Fengmian might be willing to take in the boy…

On the other hand, a nice normal family in the Cloud Recesses seemed like a better option than being a servant in the Jiang sect, or maybe a guest disciple if Jiang Fengmian were feeling especially generous. The boy couldn’t be any older than seven or eight, he still needed a mother and father, and given how jealous Madame Yu was said to be (especially as related to Cangse Sanren), it was highly improbable that Jiang Fengmian would dare her anger by taking the boy into his own family in any serious respect; that would be showing blatant disregard for his wife’s feelings and his own reputation besides. Very likely best Wei Ying would be able to hope for was a placement in one of the side families, with someone who didn’t even know his mother…

“Well, I suppose,” he finally conceded, and Lan Yueheng cheered.

“It’s official now,” he told Wei Ying. “We’re definitely keeping you. Qiren-xiong here is our sect leader, so if he says it’s all right, then it’s all right.”

Wei Ying cheered, and then Lan Yanyu joined in, cheerful as anything, and Lan Qiren put his hands over his ears in pain.

“It’s not official yet,” he insisted. “You still need to go through all the proper procedures if you’re going to adopt him or take him in as your ward. There are rules, Yueheng –”

It turned out Jiang Fengmian would, in fact, have been willing to take Wei Ying into his own family.

He was also extremely upset to discover that Lan Qiren had ‘stolen’ him away.

“You would have to have a claim on the boy for it to be theft,” Lan Qiren said testily. He didn’t appreciate the accusation in the slightest. “Are you saying you have one? Do you own his father’s life-bond contract?”

Jiang Fengmian looked offended. “Wei Changze was a servant, not a slave!”

“A servant who you released from service to your sect upon the occasion of his marriage, if I recall correctly. Did you not do that?”

“Well, yes, I did, but –”

“Do you have any other relationship to the boy beyond a friendship with his father?”

“What exactly are you implying?” Jiang Fengmian said, glaring death, and for a moment Lan Qiren was surprised at the extremity of the response to a perfectly reasonable question.

Except then a moment later Lao Nie swept in and, pretending not to see Jiang Fengmian standing right there, said, “Hey, Qiren! What’s this I hear about you letting someone in your sect adopt Sect Leader Jiang’s bastard?”

Which – explained Jiang Fengmian’s ire, although not why it was aimed at Lan Qiren. It was like everyone forgot that his sect had rules against engaging in unnecessary gossip…

“He’s not my bastard,” Jiang Fengmian said stiffly.

Lan Qiren nodded. “Cangse Sanren would not be unfaithful to her chosen husband,” he agreed, not going out of his way to opine on whether Jiang Fengmian might’ve been willing on his end if she had been willing on hers, “having gone to such lengths to select him in the first place. As a result, when she died, there was no one else with any claim on him at all, and so I permitted my cousin to adopt him. I do not see the issue.”

“No issue, no issue at all,” Lao Nie said, having very clearly only brought up the matter at all in order to needle Jiang Fengmian. “I hope you know what a headache you’re getting yourself into, that’s all, taking in an offspring of Cangse Sanren – or of Wei Changze, for that matter. I recall him having a sense of humor for the ages.”

Lan Qiren had already braced himself.

“I’m not satisfied that the matter is settled,” Jiang Fengmian objected. “Sect Leader Lan, why are you so insistent about this?”

Lan Qiren stared at him in disbelief – was the man stilltrying to claim poor Wei Ying?

“Maybe Sect Leader Lan had a fondness for the beautiful Cangse Sanren as well,” someone said, but looking around Lan Qiren could not see who it was; they had attracted an audience of sect leaders from the smaller sects.

Lao Nie was starting to scowl, though, and it was best not to let him get into it on Lan Qiren’s behalf – he was far too temperamental in defense of his loved ones for Lan Qiren’s taste, and it would only irritate Wen Ruohan to hear about Lao Nie getting into a fight when he wasn’t around to spectate. The only result would be all three of them getting annoyed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lan Qiren said instead, letting his own irritation slip out. “If I’d been in love with her, I’d have proposed marriage to her and been rejected like all her other suitors. My concern here is with Wei Ying – he has already settled in quite happily, and I see no benefit to disturbing him, or indeed in disturbing the order and tranquility of how things have been arranged within my sect. Even my nephews have befriended him!”

“You have befriended Wei Ying, have you not?” Lan Qiren asked Lan Xichen during one of their lessons, feeling a little anxious. “He’s settling in well?”

“Oh yes,” Lan Xichen said cheerfully. “I like A-Ying a great deal – though maybe not as much as Wangji does.”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows. Lan Wangji was an introverted boy, much the same way Lan Qiren had been. Lan Qiren had never doubted his young nephew’s affection for his family, but he knew that Lan Wangji usually didn’t go much beyond that. He certainly didn’t like strangers very much – or at least, he usually didn’t.

“He’s following him around like a duckling,” Lan Xichen confided. “It’s adorable! I haven’t seen Wangji this happy since – since – ”

Since their mother had died, no doubt.

It had been less than two years ago, and remained a shadow on Lan Qiren’s mind. Lan Wangji had taken it terribly, which was to be expected, and had only very slowly emerged from the gloom it had cast over him. Now that Lan Qiren thought about it, Lan Wangji had started doing better after the visit from the Nie sect heirs – perhaps what he really needed was friends, and if Wei Ying could be that friend for him, that would be good.

Still, while worrying, Lan Wangji’s reaction was not outside the realm of what was to be expected; if anything, Lan Qiren worried more about Lan Xichen, who had soldiered through his mother’s death with almost too much equanimity. He had gotten into a fight with He Kexin a year or so before her death – Lan Qiren did not know on what subject, having not attended that particular visit on account of Lan Wangji being sick with a fever and needing tending – and their relationship had never been the same after that.

Neither had ever explained what had happened, and by now, with He Kexin gone and Lan Xichen still steadfastly refusing any offers to talk, Lan Qiren suspected he would never learn.

Still, since he was unwilling to force the issue, there was nothing to be done about it, and no reason to dwell on it. He could focus on connecting with his nephew in other ways, instead.

“A duckling,” Lan Qiren said. “Wangji? Really?”

Lan Xichen grinned so widely that Lan Qiren almost wanted to quote do not exult in excess at him.

“Oh yes,” he said, looking positively mischievous. “Come see!”

Lan Qiren had to admit that there was a distinct familiarity to the sight of Wei Ying, trotting along the paths of the Cloud Recesses, talking at top speed with one hand moving every which way and the other firmly grasping Lan Wangji’s sleeve, dragging him along. Not that that was necessary, what with Lan Wangji trotting right beside him, watching him with an intent look and nodding along with whatever it was he was saying. Moreover, completing the picture was little Lan Yanyu, right behind them, chiming in at random intervals, and she was pulling the even littler Lan Zhijin behind her in a little cart, since the boy had only barely started walking.

“…I see,” Lan Qiren said, making a mental note to start teaching Wei Ying the Lan sect rules as soon as possible.

He was very fond of Lan Yueheng, strange as the man could sometimes be, but Lan Yueheng was an adult, capable of living by the rules in the manner that fit him best, and his idiosyncratic interpretations weren’t necessarily the ideal ones for children to learn. A proper orthodox education was better for children, serving them as a firm foundation – it would be unfortunate if Wei Ying got the wrong idea about how members of the Lan sect were supposed to behave.

Of course, for that Wei Ying would need a courtesy name. Perhaps they could allow Jiang Fengmian to opine on that, in the interest of smoothing over ruffled feathers…?

“I’m glad they’re happy,” Lan Xichen said, watching them.

Lan Qiren glanced at his obedient nephew.

“Indeed,” he said. “They are, however, going the wrong way – perhaps you would like to join them? We can continue the lesson we were doing tomorrow.”

Lan Xichen was gone almost before he finished saying his thanks.

The number of ducklings had multiplied, but the sight of them trotting through the Cloud Recesses in a bunch had not changed.

It was usually a pretty good way to tell that some trouble was on its way, too.

At this point, Lan Qiren was starting to wonder if Lan Yueheng and Zhang Xin had determined that the best and possibly only way to keep Wei Wuxian from making too much trouble was to have another child and then to graciously allow him to help out with the babysitting. If so, it was a brilliant ploy – Wei Wuxian loved having younger siblings to take care of, and any attempts to chase him away so that he could focus on playing with other children his age resulted only in increasingly dramatic moping and behavior not unlike that of an extremely small child himself. At least he always had Lan Wangji to listen to him, his steadfast companion through thick and thin and even an endless interest in carting around small children.

It did wonders for their arm strength, if nothing else.

Of course, Wei Wuxian was charming enough that even his penchant for bringing his younger siblings everywhere wasn’t enough to drive away the other children in the sect, and he remained exceptionally popular. At least part of that was his penchant for mischief – at this point, he had so much copying to do that he had just made it part of his schedule, and Lan Qiren thought he’d actually looked somewhat lost and confused on the rare occasions that he didn’t have something to be working on – and the rest of it was simply his manner, light-hearted and easy-going in a way the Lan sect rarely was.

Perhaps he really should have been raised a Jiang.

Well, it was far too late for such concerns now.

Although sometimes, the temptation…

Lan Qiren raised his teacup to avoid the now-predictable vibrations stemming from an explosion, counted to four, then put it back down.

“Why do we keep letting them do that?” he complained, and thought wistfully again of sending certain people off for a visit to the Lotus Pier even though he knew perfectly well that Wei Wuxian’s penchant for explosives had more than likely come from Lan Yueheng himself rather than any external source.

“Because it’s better if they do it in a controlled manner at a predictable time than at random,” Lan Wangji answered obediently – he’d done the same thing with his own teacup. “And because creativity is to be commended. Wei Ying has made great contributions to the sect through his inventions in talismans, arrays, and alchemy.”

A brief pause.

“And Third Uncle and his children too, of course.”

Lan Qiren did not roll his eyes, but it was close – he was by now perfectly aware of his younger nephew’s extreme partiality towards Wei Wuxian. He decided to change the subject: “What do you think of your peers in the classroom this year, Wangji? It’s an interesting group.”

They’d gotten virtually all the sect heirs, in fact: Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang, and the only reason they hadn’t gotten Wen Chao was because Lan Qiren had personally expelled him the year before last for disrupting the education of other students and cited that as a reason not to accept him again. He’d expelled Jin Zixun for the same reason the year before that, so Wen Ruohan couldn’t even complain about it.

“They’re interesting,” Lan Wangji allowed. “Jiang-gongzi has become fast friends with Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang, and they make even more trouble together than Wei Ying did with Nie Huaisang alone last year.”

“I see,” Lan Qiren said. “And have you resolved your argument with Nie Huaisang?”

“…mm.”

That would be a ‘no’, then. Sometimes Lan Qiren wished his boys were still young enough that he could personally intervene in their friendships to try to fix their problems.

Although there were still some things he could do.

“Wuxian has still not noticed that you’re arguing, has he?” he asked mildly, and Lan Wangji gave him an alarmed look. “Perhaps I should ask him to be an intermediary.”

“That is unnecessary, shufu,” Lan Wangji said quickly. “We will resolve it ourselves.”

“If you’re sure.”

A firm nod.

Lan Qiren picked up his teacup once more – another boom sounded in the distance – and took a sip, then said, “Wuxian has an exception grasp on the Lan sect rules. Although he often uses it as a means to argue his way out of trouble, I would not have made you two the joint heads of the discipline hall if I did not believe him equally capable of enforcing them. He would not appreciate you acting alone in his defense.”

Lan Wangji only looked stubborn.

Lan Qiren decided to drop the matter for now. He’d bring it up again tomorrow, and the day after as well if necessary. There simply was no reason for the two boys who had been friends with each other for even longer than they’d been friends with Wei Wuxian to fight over something as ridiculous as a fleeting infatuation.

…well, he hoped it was a fleeting infatuation on at least one of their parts. Ideally Lan Wangi, but he was starting to lose hope in that.

At least he was pretty sure that Lan Yueheng would consent whole-heartedly to the marriage.

Lan Qiren took another sip of tea, and tried to ignore the smell of smoke.

It usually wasn’t anything serious.

There was smoke in the air, thick and choking, and the heat made it difficult even to see.

The Cloud Recesses were burning.

Lan Qiren coughed into his sleeve, and thought to himself that it was good that the laundry had long ago updated the arrays to include ones designed for fireproofing as part of the regular set. He’d initially only asked for it for his own robes, but they’d taken it as an update to the general set and he’d never bothered to stop them.

“Shufu?” Lan Wangji asked, looking concerned, but Lan Qiren waved him away. He wished he could send Lan Wangji out from this horrible situation through one of the hidden paths, but he had already sent Lan Xichen that way – one man fleeing might be overlooked, but no more, not with how well his nephews were known as the Twin Jades.

Not that Lan Wangji would agree to leave. Not leave his home, not leave his uncle, and certainly not leave his beloved, with whom he had been fighting back-to-back with for the past shichen.

“Do not mind me,” Lan Qiren said, since saying ‘I am fine’ would breach the prohibition against lying. He was very far from fine. “Where is Wuxian?”

“Looking for Third Uncle. They got separated when they started setting off explosives in defense of the sect, and we have not been able to find him.”

Lan Qiren grimaced, and spared a moment to hope that Lan Yueheng and his family were all right. Zhang Xin would be in the women’s area, at least, with the twins and little Zixi, and that would have been locked down as much as they could manage as soon as possible, but the older children…Lan Yanyu was very nearly fifteen, old enough to think that she could pick up a sword and go out to fight, and both Lan Zhijin and Lan Wanli had probably been in the classrooms when the attack had come, making them unwilling participants whether they wanted it or no.

Lan Qiren had been there, too, but he couldn’t remember whether they had listened when he had ordered all the students to evacuate; he had had no time for anything else, rushing over to activate the sect defenses using his own blood before taking his sword and guqin to defend his home as best he could.

It had been a relief when the explosions had started. He’d known that it must be Wei Wuxian and Lan Yueheng behind them, them and their little group of alchemy enthusiasts, using whatever means at their disposal to fight back.

It had been a relief…

Not so much now.

Wei Wuxian, at least, could be trusted to defend himself properly, with his sword and his dizi and a dazzling array of deadly talismans, while Lan Yueheng…years and years of neglecting the sword in favor of his mathematics and alchemical experiments meant that he would never be a good fighter, no matter how fearsome the talismans and arrays and elixirs he wielded. He simply lacked a good sense of his surroundings, and had no notion whatsoever as to where an enemy might be or what they might do.

Wei Wuxian was better, much better, but what could win a duel would not win a war.

And Wei Wuxian was – too talented.

He’d unexpectedly won third place in the archery competition, locking in the entire thing as a Lan sect sweep while knocking out Wen Chao and making the Wen sect lose face, and with his sense of humor he’d gotten more attention for that feat than the calmer and quieter Lan Wangji had for his second-place finish or Lan Xichen for finishing first.

The Wen sect had a tendency to hold grudges. If they got hold of him…

“Call him here instead,” Lan Qiren said, making a decision. “I have a task for him.”

Lan Wangji looked at him in silent question, but long-term habits of obedience kicked in; he nodded and swept off to find his beloved.

Lan Qiren hoped that they would both forgive him.

Wei Wuxian wanted to destroy the Wen sect more than anything, but he was starting to have some unwilling sympathy for Wen Ruohan’s desire to dominate other sects and force them to do what he wanted.

Jiang Fengmian just wasn’t listening to him.

Oh, the man had been kind enough, offering Wei Wuxian shelter with his sect after what had happened with the Cloud Recesses, but it was as if all of Wei Wuxian’s warnings about it meant about the threat of the Wen sect fell on deaf ears. The Jiang sect believed in living freely and doing as you liked, and Jiang Fengmian did not want to go to war; therefore he would not, and certainly not for another sect’s sake no matter how much he liked the person doing the requesting.

Wei Wuxian felt obscurely betrayed by it. Jiang Fengmian had always been very kind to him whenever he was visiting the Lan sect or if they ever encountered each other outside – he’d been friends with Wei Wuxian’s father, and was always full of stories about him and some small knick-knack or gift from the Lotus Pier that his father had liked back when he’d lived there. He’d even allowed Wei Wuxian to call him Uncle Jiang.

But now, now when Wei Wuxian really needed him…

Wei Wuxian had only agreed to leave the Cloud Recesses in its time of need because Lan Qiren had insisted that he was the only one who might convince Jiang Fengmian to help them.

Wei Wuxian had believed him at the time, but he was starting to think that Lan Qiren hadn’t actually thought he could do it, but rather had done it just to get him out of the way.

It wasn’t that Wei Wuxian didn’t know that Jiang Fengmian and Lan Qiren were on moderately bad terms, insofar as sect leaders with as much influence as they had could be on bad terms – they had the usual set of alliances, but they didn’t like each other, and Wei Wuxian had always secretly suspected that the fact that Lan Qiren had taken him into the Cloud Recesses was at least part of the reason why. Jiang Fengmian had always spoken so highly of the Lotus Pier to him, encouraging him to come and visit – Lan Qiren had never allowed it – and Wei Wuxian had known from a young age that Jiang Fengmian had wished he’d been allowed to raise him instead of Lan Yueheng.

Indeed, even now, he had the feeling that Jiang Fengmian secretly hoped he’d find a reason to marry into the Jiang sect and therefore stay with them for good.

Not that there’d be anywhere to stay if the Wen sect did to the Lotus Pier what they’d done to the Cloud Recesses.

Not that Wei Wuxian would want to marry anyone other than Lan Wangji anyway.

“No offense meant,” he said to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, who both looked amused.

“None taken,” Jiang Cheng said. “I don’t want to marry you either, and Jiang Yanli’s engaged.”

“And also doesn’t want to marry you,” Jiang Yanli said. “Sorry, A-Xian. I see you only as a cute little brother.”

Wei Wuxian had in turn always seen Jiang Yanli as a friendly older sister, but he still put his hands on his heart and said, “Ouch. Leave me some dignity, all right? Just because I’m taken doesn’t mean that I don’t like to flatter myself about being attractive to women.”

“Flatter yourself another time,” Madame Yu interjected from the door, making them all jump. Her expression was grim. “The Wen sect has sent word that they are summoning one direct disciple from each sect to the Nightless City.”

“A direct disciple?” Wei Wuxian asked, looking alarmed. “You’re not going to send them Jiang Cheng, are you? And you can’t send Jiang Yanli!”

“I’m certainly not sending A-Li, but I don’t see that we have any choice about A-Cheng,” Madame Yu said. She gave Wei Wuxian that strange look that she always had for him, the one where she wasn’t sure if she ought to be angry at him for being the other person’s child in her husband’s heart or grateful that he had stayed in the Lan sect where he belonged, far away where he wouldn’t impact her own son’s position. It seemed a little more the latter than usual, perhaps because he’d shouted at Jiang Fengmian earlier in the hall of the Lotus Pier that he had only one father, Wei Changze, and only one adopted father, Lan Yueheng, and that he had no availability for any others. “I’m going to send you, too.”

Wei Wuxian blinked.

“There’s no point in your staying here as long as my husband refuses to take up arms,” she said, and Wei Wuxian grimaced in agreement. “You resemble some of our servants. If we change your hair and put you in Jiang sect colors – you will need to remove that forehead ribbon of yours – if we do all that, you’d pass well enough. If they’re collecting sect heirs, I’d assume your Lan Wanji would be there, too.”

“Teacher Lan sent Wei-xiong here to avoid him getting captured,” Jiang Cheng protested. “How can we send him to the Nightless City?”

“The safest place is the most dangerous place. Sect Leader Lan didn’t want him to get captured by those with a grudge against him, but Wen Chao is far less dangerous, and less observant, than Wen Xu. If he keeps his mouth shut, it’s possible they’ll overlook him entirely…that’s assuming you want to go, Wei-gongzi. I won’t force you.”

“No, you’re right,” he said. “I want to go. If Lan Zhan is there…I can’t leave him alone.”

Jiang Cheng sighed, but nodded.

“Good,” Madame Yu said. “If you find a way, get out of there and come back here. And don’t be subtle about it, either.”

When they looked at her, she smiled grimly.

“If burning the Lan sect isn’t enough to cow the whole cultivation world – and it’s not going to be – then they will need to bring down a second great sect to make the point. Wei-gongzi is right: we’re the obvious next target, and they won’t hesitate to do to the Lotus Pier what they did to the Cloud Recesses as soon as they have an excuse. ‘Harboring Lan sect fugitives’ would do the trick quite nicely.”

“You want to lure the Wen sect into attacking?”

“I want to lure them into attack at the time of my choosing,” she said, and swept her thumb across Zidian, letting it crackle a little. “Will you do it?”

Wei Wuxian smiled.

Losing a leg had done absolutely nothing to stymie Lan Yueheng’s enthusiasm, and – if anything – seemed only to encourage Wei Wuxian, who had already invented four different types of prosthetics that mixed arrays and metal in innovative new ways, each of them far better than anything they’d had previously.

“Are you certain I can’t convince you to take them more permanently?” Lan Qiren asked Nie Mingjue while rubbing his temples to try to make the headache go away. He didn’t exactly expect tranquility in a war, but the constant explosions, however useful, were starting to get to him – he was starting to hear them in his sleep. “Surely the Hejian front could use some heavy artillery.”

Nie Mingjue was visiting to check in on Nie Huaisang, who had been sent to the Cloud Recesses for his own safety. He smiled.

“You’d miss them if they were gone,” he said, and he was right. “Anyway, I’m quite happy with their inventions keeping the Cloud Recesses safe – and isn’t Wei-gongzi usually with the Jiang sect front these days?”

“He travels, like Xichen and Wangji, but yes, he goes to ground there more often than not.” Lan Qiren sighed. “I suspect that he still feels guilty for not having managed to get as much help out of them in the early days as he thought he’d be able to. Wangji goes with him when he can, of course.”

“Of course…why is he here, anyway? Huaisang said in his letters that they’d thought up some idea that I wouldn’t like, so naturally I came as soon as possible.”

That was a very Nie Mingjue thing to do, and also a very Nie Huaisang way of getting him to do it. Lan Qiren suspected Wei Wuxian to be behind it all.

“He’s probably invented something new,” he said, though he started frowning. Usually he was the first one to receive word of a new invention through Lan Yueheng, who couldn’t resist boasting about his adopted son’s genius, and he hadn’t heard anything recently.

Also, something Nie Mingjue wouldn’t like was very likely something Lan Qiren wouldn’t like, and by and large Lan Yueheng was typically pretty good at figuring what those things were in advance and squashing them before they turned into full on “ideas”.

“In all honesty, I’m not sure what would constitute something I dislike at this point,” Nie Mingjue said, rubbing his forehead. “Provided it helps us do better in this war, I’m willing to be flexible.”

Lan Qiren doubted that very much – Nie Mingjue was many things, but flexible about ethics was not one of them – but he didn’t say as much.

“Have something to eat,” he said instead. “You look too thin.”

Everyone looked too thin to his eyes these days. It was worry, that was all. He worried about his nephews, and his cousin’s children, and all the others, too.

Nie Mingjue accepted his concern with grace and a touch of humor, and then they went to go find the others.

The others, in this case, were Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Nie Huaisang, and Lan Yanyu, as well as Lan Yueheng balancing little Lan Guanling in one arm and Lan Yuhui in the other – how the twins had managed to get here from where they were supposed to be, only they knew.

“I’m just the babysitter,” Lan Yueheng said at once upon seeing Lan Qiren. “They said I wasn’t allowed to know what it was because then I’d blurt it out to you.”

That seemed – very in character, yes, and explained a great deal.

“Dare I ask what it is?” Lan Qiren asked Wei Wuxian, arching his eyebrows and giving the children a look that made them all squirm in their seats. “Now that you’ve managed to lure Chifeng-zun here to hear it out as well?”

Looks were shared – no, to be clear, looks were being very pointedly directed at Wei Wuxian, who cleared his throat.

“All right,” he said. “We think we’ve come up with something that can help change the course of the war.”

“That’s the good part,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “Can we skip ahead to what the bad part is?”

Lan Qiren nodded. “Specifically the part that will make us hate the concept and want to refuse it without hearing anymore about it.”

“Well,” Wei Wuxian said, and coughed again, not denying that that part was coming. “Before we get there, how familiar are you with the Yiling Burial Mounds…? Because I got stuck there for a tiny little bit and it gave me this idea…”

#mdzs #lan qiren #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan xichen #lan yueheng #my fic #my fics #a quiet life of leisure #this feels incredibly self-indulgent #writing about one of my random OCs #thank you so much for the prompt

218 notes · View notes

made-nondescript · 3 years ago

Note

Thinking about the idea of Tubbo witnessing the end of a season and like, being lowkey distraught at leaving that place behind. Like it’s become a constant, a safety net of sorts, and he’s sad that it won’t be there anymore.

Tubbo trying to tell himself that hey! The people that made this place are still all here! They just wanna move on and make a new place, but they’re still the same people he’s come to love over time! Nothing really has to change.

But… even though (almost) everyone made it through the L’Manburg era, nothing was ever the same again. Yeah he still had Tommy and he still had Ranboo, but his world was forever changed after L’Manburg fell. Those people he knew back then, they aren’t the same as the people he knows now. Irrevocable change occurred when L’Manburg fell.

I dunno. Thinking about Tubbo perceiving the HC season change as a lot more of a threat [?] than it is, because of his experiences leaving builds behind on his home server.

Tubbo knows well that people change as much as circumstance does. More, even, seeing as he can still walk down the Prime path when some of the people he once walked it with are no longer even here. And so there's a fear gnawing at him that with the new season the Hermits will change to match it, change somehow from the people he'd come to call friends and leave himself again as one of the few constants in his life.

He recognizes that it's a bit silly - people changed after L'Manburg fell from the trauma and bloodshed more than a changing of the scenery. It's not likely that a season change would be the end of the world.

Even still.

It's Joe who finds him sitting contemplatively in the shopping district, feet in a slow moving stream. He keeps picking at the grass - once mycelium, he was there for that. He remembers how much the rebellion scared him when he heard about it and how relieved he was it was just a joke and thinking about it made him smile.

"It's a lot, isn't it?" Joe says, sitting next to him. Tubbo'd never spoken much with Joe, but he was nice from the interactions they'd had.

"Hm?"

"The end of the season. That's what the forlorn look is about, right?" He chuckles, picking a dandelion out of the lawn and brushing off its stem.

"Yeah, I guess so." It feels so selfish to feel bad about it - "forlorn" when it's not his hours of work being reset at the end of the day. He's lucky they even warned him. Belatedly, he thinks he should have tried harder to not look so clearly distraught about it. He's picking the tufts off the flower one by one, flicking each delicately into the stream where they'll float lazily away until they eventually reach the sea or plant themselves on the shore, beginning anew.

"It's a bit bittersweet." He remarks, continuing his plucking. "I don't - not much a fan of season's endings either."

"Then…" Tubbo pauses, staring at Joe's hands as he works. Joe doesn't look at him, focused on his self appointed task. He realizes that he doesn't know what he wants to say, or ask, or whatever made him open his mouth only to close it again. Then why do it? He knew why, they'd explained it to him. He picks his words carefully. "How do you do it? Over and over, I mean."

Pluck, pluck, pluck. The dandelion looked a bit ugly now, it's prickly core exposed to the world, only a few tufts hanging on. It looked a little like balding head, and the image made him almost smile.

Joe hums contemplatively, pausing his work. "I try not to think of it like an ending. It's more like - we're all out of ideas right now. Maybe not completely, but we would be soon. Or we're just sick of our projects. But at the start of the season it's - we don't have any of that. It's a world of opportunity again, even if we have to leave behind what we did last season. I think it's worth it, to have that."

The last few tufts are pulled from the head of the dandelion and cast down the stream and soon after the stem joins them.

"Oh." Tubbo says a bit dumbly. "I- yeah, I think I get that."

Joe smiles and looks at him, putting a hand on his back."There will be more Hermitcraft tomorrow, kid."

Then he's up and gone.

#this inspired in part from our dms from the other night btw i was just turning it around in my head #dsmp x hc #hc x dsmp #dream smp #dsmp #dream smp fanfiction #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #tubbo #joehills #tubbassador au #dsmp ficlet

161 notes · View notes

hyunsuks-beanie · 3 years ago

Text

It'll Always Be You

Lee Felix × reader; angst, but with a fluffy ending; 2923 words; lovers to exes and back

A/N So Felix has me feeling all sorts of things today, bc of how good he looked during the performance. So here's a scenario for our Sunshine!

"Here's your order and have a nice day," you smile to the female customer in front of you, before handing a pack of cookies to her child. Once the leave, you let out a sigh and look at your best friend who's cleaning the counter next to you. "All done for today!," you exclaim, to which your friend looks up and smiles, before taking off and folding her apron. "So, what are your plans for tonight?," she asks, making you give her a knowing look. She to her eyes before saying, "How long are you gonna stay cooped up inside your house? The break up was two years ago for heaven's sake, you need to start living your life again." "Hey, I am living my life, it's just that, unlike you, I am not interested in going out and meeting new people every day. I meet enough strangers while working here, so there's no need to go clubbing daily," you shrug.

When all she does in reply is pout, you chuckle and say, "Okay, how about we go for a movie tomorrow? My treat." Her face lights up at that, and she gives you a tight hug before saying, "I really want to meet your ex once though, just so I can break his nose." You giggle "Oh he's dead and gone."

Oh, if only you knew.

Once you send your friend off, you start tidying up your little bakery up. This was the place that helped you get over your breakup, which had been messy to say the least. You had immersed yourself fully in your work, because you knew it was one thing that would never hurt you or break your trust.

You sigh lovingly at the memories of setting up and running your bakery, turning your back against the front door. And just as you are reminiscing you hear the door open, causing you to turn. The moment you do so, however, you regret it, because standing there, staring at you wide-eyed, is your ex, otherwise known as Stray Kids' Lee Felix. You both continue to stare at each other for a while, before he finally breaks the silence (and your trance) by whispering, "Y/N."

You clear your throat, and say, "I'm sorry, but we're closed for the day." He rushes to the and hurriedly replies, "Please, it's rather urgent. My friend Hyunjin is really craving some blueberry pie, and he refuses fo join practice before I bring him what he wants." "I told you, I'm sorry, but I can't help you today. You can come back tomorrow though," you say, not looking into his eyes. "Please Y/N, Chan hyung is getting really angry, he's gonna ground me along with Hyunjin," Felix reasons, and you find yourself giving in to his pleading eyes and pouty lips.

"Fine, wait a minute," you say, making him crack a smile. Boy have you missed that smile of his, you think, before mentally slapping yourself for still not being able to resist him, even though he broke your heart to pieces when he broke up with you over the phone two years ago, telling you that he could no longer do long distance with you being all the way in Australia. It wasn't the breakup that hurt you though, it was the fact that he had found someone better and closer to him, or so he said.

Little did you know, though, that the company had he had never really found anyone else, that he didn't want to find anyone else. The company had made him lie to you when they came to know he was secretly dating. He tried to put up a fight, but the company started threatening him about the group facing consequences. He knew you'd see right through him if he told you the truth, so he had to lie to you in order to make you hate him, just so you could move on in life. He meant well, but he never knew he hurt you so bad that you'd give up on dating and love altogether.

"Here you go," you say while handing him his parcel. He thanks you, while contemplating if he should make small talk. Mustering up the courage, he asks, "How have you been?", while looking down. "Fine," you reply, "Congrats on the comeback." His head snaps up at that, as he says, "I didn't know you knew I had a comeback," "It was all over the news, Felix. Stray Kids are really making it big," you swallow before adding, "Your partner must be really proud of you," complete with a fake smile plastered on your face.

Felix winces at your words, not knowing what to say. In the end, he settles with, "How long have you been running this bakery?" "Since about a month after we broke up." When he gives you a confused expression, you sigh and add, "I was kinda already about to move to Seoul when you told me that you had found someone else. I was gonna surprise you, but you ended up surprising me instead."

"Y/N, I-I never knew. I'm so sorry, I-," he says, but you cut him off. "I-I t-think you should leave," you say, with tears threatening to spill. "Let me explain, please. I swear I'll come clean, please, just give me a chance." "No Felix, I can't give you any chance, you blew it up when you hurt me so bad that it made scared of ever loving again. Please.....j-just go," you say, shutting your eyes close. Dejected, he turns around to leave, but not before saying, "I'm sorry," one more time. Once he leaves, you sink down to the floor, crying. "Why did you have to ruin me so bad?," You whisper.

You don't, however, notice that just outside the door, Felix too, is crying hysterically as he gets into his car.

Upon reaching the JYP building, Felix rushes to the washroom to try and dry his eyes and hide any signs that he's been crying. "I still love you. I never stopped, but gosh, why did I have to be such an idiot to let you go? And that too, in the worst way possible?," he says to his reflection in the mirror, thinking back to your broken expression. Slamming his fist against the sink, he curses at himself.

Once he's finally sobered up a little, Felix goes back to the practice room to give Hyunjin his pie. Though he has half a mind to just call in sick and go home and weep, he knows the group needs him. "Here you go, Hyun," he forces a smile onto his face when Hyunjin thanks him. Chan notices his slumped shoulders, but shrugs it off as tiredness. "Now that everyone is satisfied, can we get back to practice?," he asks. Once all the boys agree, rehearsals begin again, but Felix can't find it in himself to focus. He keeps making mistakes, which finally results in Chan stopping the music, grabbing his hand, and taking him out the practice room and to his studio.

"What is it, Lix? You've been distracted ever since you came back from the bakery. Come on, I know something is bothering you, it isn't like you to lose focus. Tell me what it is," Chan says, sternly but gently, his concern for the younger boy evident. "It's nothing, hyung. I'm just tired," Felix tries to evade the question, but Chan presses on. "I'm not buying that, and I'm not gonna have you distracted during performances or practices, either. I can't risk you injuring yourself or any of the boys, so I'm saying again. Spit. It. Out. Leader's orders."

Felix sighs, running a hand through his hair. After a pause, he finally says, "I saw Y/N today. The bakery, it is owned by them." Chan's eyes go wide at this, since he's the only one who knows the circumstances under which you both broke up, and is also the only one who knows about how much Felix regrets letting you go, in the worst possible way. "What happened? Were they....rude to you? Or did they do something?" "What? No hyung, they were nothing but nice to me. We made small talk, and they told me that they were planning to surprise me by moving to Seoul, when I broke up with them. I hurt them so bad that they are scared of ever loving again," Felix says, taking shaky breaths between sentences as tears welled up in his eyes again.

"I messed up so bad hyung, you know I still love them. They're the nicest, most perfect, most lovable person I've ever known, and I damaged them so badly, gosh I feel so guilty," he breaks down again, causing Chan to wrap his arms around him, giving him a shoulder to cry on. Once Felix calms down, Chan says, "You know what you have to do now, right?" "What do you mean?"

"You say you still love them. You say you're guilty. But instead of telling these things to me, you need to tell this to them. Apologize to them, tell them the whole story. Tell them there was never anyone else, and that it's always been them. You didn't fight for them back then, because you were worried for us. But you can fight for them now, because we got your back. Win them back, Lix. Make up for your mistake."

"B-but hyung, why would they ever want to take me back again? I've been nothing but a jerk to them." "Well, in that case, you can't blame them. But they deserve to at least know the truth. They deserve to know that your intentions were not wrong. If they choose to walk away after that, they will at least have had gotten closure. Who knows, it might help them muster the courage to go out and love again. You owe this to them, Lix."

Chan succeeded in knocking some sense into Felix, as the next day, the younger boy found himself in front of your bakery, preparing a long speech explaining why he did what he did to you. He's so engrossed in his thoughts that he doesn't notice your best friend walk out the bakery and stand next to him. "Uhm, are you okay?," she asks, surprising him. "O-oh, uh-uhm, yeah," says Felix, while noticing her uniform, that's identical to yours. "Do you work with Y/N?" "Yeah, we're friends and partners, and on most days, we work together. But they called in sick today, and told me they'd cover the evening shift. How do you know them though?"

To this, Felix finds himself at a loss for words, but he figures if he's gonna come clean to you, he needs an ally. And what better person than your best friend? So he takes down his mask slightly, making your friend gasp in response. "You Felix from Stray Kids! What are you doing here?" "I-I came here to meet Y/N. We broke up two years ago due to a mistake I made, but I need to explain things to them. They deserve to know the truth." He looks up to see your friend glaring at him, as she says, "That was you? You broke my best friend's heart? How could you? I'm not letting you anywhere near them, you jerk"

"Please, just give me 5 minutes, and I'll explain everything to you. Then you can decide if I deserve one more chance." When your friend doesn't say anything, Felix launches into his own version of things, explaining himself and his actions. Once he's done, your friend is still glaring at him, but he notices a smile tugging at her lips.

"You have been nothing but a complete and utter jerk to them. And honestly, you deserve to get your ass kicked by them. But I know that they still love you, and the way you are repenting what you did tells me that you love them too. So I give you my blessing. They'll be here in the evening at 6, be here before then." Felix hugs her super tight at that, with the biggest smile plastered on his face while thanking her. She adds, "But if you hurt them again, I swear I'm gonna murder you with my own two hands." "It won't come to that, I promise."

Felix arrives at the bakery at 10 minutes to six, and the moment he enters, your friend shoves him into the kitchen, asking him to stay there till you come. Once she leaves, he starts pacing up and down, raking his hand nervously through his hair. He tries to prepare what he is going to say, but gives up when he realizes that it would all go out the window when he sees you.

Meanwhile, the moment you step inside the bakery, your friend pretends to be busy setting stuff up on the counter, and asks you to bring in some things from the kitchen. Unassuming, you start walking towards the kitchen doors, when she notices your swollen eyes and exclaimed "Babe, have you been crying?" You muster up a fake smile and tell him that it's just you not feeling well, but unknown to you, Felix heard your friend, and guilt washes over him again. But he doesn't have time to wallow in it, as soon after, you step in.

The way your expression morphs into one of pure sadness breaks his heart into a million pieces, and when you say, "What more do you want from me?" while holding back tears, it takes everything in him to stop from falling to his knees and begging forgiveness. He tries to speak, but you hold up a finger, indicating you aren't finished. "Now that you've found me again, was it not enough for you to have me admit that what you did to me made me stop believing in love? Do you even want to rub it in my face by telling me how happy your are with your partner? If that is so, then please, just get lost, I'm begging you."

Tears are now streaming down your face, and Felix finds himself saying, "Just please. Let me explain. You deserve to know the truth and my feelings and intentions. If after that, you want me to leave, I swear, you will never have to see me again." You can't look at him, but when you don't reply, he says, "I promise that this is the real truth behind what I did. Please hear me out. I lied when I said I had found someone else. There is no 'someone else,' and there never will be one. The only person I've loved, the only person I still love, is you. It'll always be you."

"The company made me break up with you, and threatened me that the group will face consequences if I didn't do as they had asked. I that that if I outright told you the real reason, it would hurt you. And so, I decided to lie to you in order to make you hate me, even if it broke my heart. But never did I ever think that it would damage you so badly, and I know I've been stupid, but I can't help but ask for you to forgive me, and give me one last chance. I know I've been a total jerk to you, and even now, I'm being nothing but selfish, but I just want you to know that I still love you. I'll understand if you want nothing to do with me, and I'll walk away forever. But you deserved to get closure, and I hope that if you do choose to give up on me, you will now be able to love again, and trust again."

By the time he stops talking, the both of you are sobbing hard. You ask him, "Are you done?" When he nods, you say, "You say that you will walk away if I choose to give up on you. But do you really think I'll be able to give up on you? If I couldn't stop loving you even when you broke up with me in the cruelest way possible, what makes you think I'll stop loving you now that I know that you went through the same pain as me? You knew what the truth was, and you still had to hide it. I can only imagine how hurtful that must have been, Felix. I hate myself for believing your stupid lie, for ever doubting the love you had for me. I'm sorry, and I forgive you."

Felix looks up at you, surprised. It takes him some time to process your words, and when he does, he asks you, "What does that mean....for us?" To this, you shyly reply, "Well, I never stopped loving you, and if you didn't either, then should we give us another try?" Felix smiles the brightest he has in ages, as he slowly comes closer to you. Cupping your face, he wipes off your tears, as you proceed to do the same. "I promise I'll never let you go again," he says softly. You giggle and say, "You'd do well to keep that promise," before biting your lip.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?," he asks. You nod in response, causing him to gently place his lips on yours. And for the first time in a while, you feel like you're home.

188 notes · View notes

may-day-voice · 3 years ago

Text

Mother's Day

w/ Izuku Midoriya, Shouto Todoroki & Katsuki Bakugou

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/Fu2ifujKQI4

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1109387237-oneshots-pro-hero-au-172732014-mother%27s-day

IZUKU MIDORIYA | Potluck Brunch

"Do you think that this is too much?"

"I'm sure it's fine."

Midoriya's smile warmed the chilliest of mornings while the cherry blossoms began to drift in the spring breeze. It was a busy start to the day grocery shopping for a surprise brunch he wanted to make for his mother. That did however include having to wake at four in the morning to peruse through the markets for the freshest ingredients.

You yawned loudly while carrying various shopping bags on hand, eyeing Midoriya carrying the more heavier ingredients with him - mostly the meat.

"Still trying to wake up?" Asked Midoriya.

"Just trying to slip back into my old routine," you explained, nuzzling your nose into your scarf. "I used to clean my equipment every two days at the break of dawn."

"You used to clean your guns?"

"Dismantle and put them back together too. I used to time myself."

You spoke casually and nonchalantly about those memories, recalling that competitive feeling to beat your time again and again. However, you heard nothing from Midoriya, finding that he only stared at you quizzically.

"What? I was... bored," you slowly explained, a little embarrassed about the topic.

"That explains your reaction time," pondered Midoriya, his eyes staring upwards in thought. "Constant practice and muscle memory would only make them second nature to you."

"Are you theorizing now?"

"Hehe, maybe a little."

You grimaced and yet smiled at Midoriya, bumping your hip into his playfully. He was still the observant and analytical man, always putting forward his ingenuity over his Quirk.

Soon, the both of you made your way to his old family home in an apartment complex, taking the elevator up before approaching the very familiar front door to his mother's. After a knock or two, the door opened, revealing a short woman whose eyes upon seeing the both of you, smiled happily.

"Izuku," she greeted, receiving a large hug from Midoriya.

"Nice to see you mum," he spoke, pulling away for you to greet her as well.

"So good to see you Inko," you cooed with a gentle hug. "Hope we haven't disturbed you."

"Oh nonsense, what's all this?" She asked, eyeing all of the bags in hand.

"Happy Mother's Day," cheered Midoriya while he lifted the heavier bags in hand. "We're going to treat you with potluck brunch."

"Izuku had this planned over the last week," you explained with another yawn escaping your throat. "Nothing but the best ingredients."

Inko glanced between yourself and Midoriya, along with all of the ingredients on hand in astonishment, before her eyes pricked with tears. You contemplated whether she was growing upset, however she closed in for another hug, sharing it between the both of you.

"You two work so hard. You didn't need to do this," she cried in happiness. Because of her short height, you glanced at Midoriya who was also standing awkwardly from the hug, finding that smile on his face again.

"We wanted to," he comforted while he gently pulled away, allowing Inko to release her sudden hold before he entered the apartment. "We'll take care of the cooking and cleaning."

"Today is meant for you," you reassured her, following Midoriya with a smile. "You don't lift a finger at all."

"As long as Cutie doesn't grill a cake," he teased from within, causing your shoulders to stiffen from the twang of embarrassment.

"Huh?" uttered Inko in confusion.

"Hey! It was only once!"

SHOUTO TODOROKI | Visiting Hours

Entering into the hospital ward still felt like an odd experience. Already having bypassed the reception desk with ease, Todoroki and yourself brought a few gifts for the occasion, including a small bouquet of Autumn Bellflowers.

"Have your brother and sister visited already?" You asked curiously with the resonant sounds of footsteps filling the halls.

"Natsu visited after work, and Fuyumi spent the day with Mum yesterday," bluntly replied Todoroki.

"That's good."

Todoroki eyed a smile on your lips, the both of you walking side by side while he smiled to himself. He cherished these little stares he could steal to see you happy next to him, hoping for you to slowly become more ingrained in his life now that you were engaged.

"What?" You uttered, catching his eye on you.

"Nothing," he replied, still with a warm smile.

Soon, Room 315 was in sight before Todoroki knocked on the door, opening it for you to enter first. You spotted his mother by the window, enjoying the gifts that were brought over the past day until her tired yet calm eyes spotted you by the door.

"Welcome," she greeted, walking up to you with open arms and hugging you. That was unexpected. You quipped in surprise, before she gently released you to turn to her son.

"Hello Mum," cooly greeted Todoroki.

"Please sit," invited Rei, pulling you gently by the arm to seat you by the dining table while Todoroki placed the bouquet of flowers elsewhere. Though the tug of Rei's hands were gentle, it held purpose. You felt it in her grip, in the tiny fingertips while she pulled you into the room.

Something wasn't odd, but it was different.

"How are you both?" She asked with delight.

"Aside from work, we've been doing fine," replied Todoroki.

"Yeah, there's been a hiccup, but nothing that we couldn't handle with some old friends," you added with a smile.

"I've seen the news," started Rei, her eyes dulling a little from her thoughts. "That man that is causing a mess, there's no sign of him?"

You turned to Todoroki, catching his eye once more before he joined the table, calmly holding onto his mother's hands.

"The Commission's got eyes on him. We'll find him soon," he reassured, receiving a calm

smile from his mother. "How are you going, Mum?"

"I've been well. Natsuo brought over some gifts and Fuyumi visited with some delicious treats and meals." Rei's eyes turned to Todoroki, filled with a sadness you had seen time and time before. "Your father came by as well, only for a short while though."

"I see," shortly replied Todoroki.

"Will you be slowly moving back to the estate?" You asked out of the blue, catching Rei off guard. "I mean, there's a place there for you, and maybe it's good to stay close with... family."

"Very soon," replied Rei without hesitation. "It's a shame. I was hoping to see you more often."

"Oh, I mean I don't live far from the hospital so if ever you need anything I'm a phone call away."

A silence befell the room, one that felt odd, like how Rei held your hand not too long ago.

"What?"

"Oh it's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I would've thought Shouto would have invited the suggestion to you," explained Rei with that content smile, almost similar to the ones she gave on Todoroki's birthday.

"Love, would you like to move in with me?" Asked Todoroki from beside you without warning and without fail.

A stammer stopped your mouth from forming comprehensible words, taken back by the question. You looked between the two, spotting that content and warm smile on mother and son. Ones that you couldn't object or argue with. This was supposed to be Mother's Day.

"This is the best gift yet," commented Rei, smiling gently at your flabbergasted reaction.

KATSUKI BAKUGOU | Future In-Laws

Both Bakugou and yourself stood by the front door of his old family home, having arranged half a day to visit his mother for Mother's Day. You noticed how blue the sky was, how bright the sun shone, and how calm the Neighbourhood felt.

If only Bakugou was as cheerful.

You eyed him every once in a while, his face unchanging with that scowl etched in his brow. It wasn't his normal, usual, aggravated self. It was more of a-

"What?" He growled, his eyes glancing into yours.

"Nothing," you responded coolly with a smile.

"Don't gloat."

"I'm not."

"If that hag says anything, we're walking back home."

A snort escaped your nostrils, a small one but nonetheless one that continued to bubble into your shoulders. "I love your parents," you commented.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"You're here!" Exclaimed Mitsuki, causing a cringe on Bakugou's snarl but a smile from yours.

"Hi Mitsuki!" You chirped, hugging the woman by the door.

"Oh hush, you can call me Mum now."

"Mum?"

"Shut up hag," reacted Bakugou with a snarl. "They're not calling you that."

"I give them my consent, Katsuki. You have no say in the matter," snarked Mitsuki.

The tension was, well, insurmountably tense, standing between two very aggressive individuals in a staring contest. Until you spotted a familiar set of eyes from inside the house, waving meekly despite his tall stature.

"Hi Masaru," you greeted with a wave of your own.

"I see the day has started," he commented while his eyes worriedly observed the growling match his wife and son were dealing with by the door. You only chuckled until-

"Oh, you can call him Dad now, or Pop whichever you prefer," mused Mitsuki with a chirp, with no sign of aggravation on her face or in her voice.

"Honey, they don't have to call me-"

"No, I won't accept it. Our Katsuki has found his one and only, so they're now a part of the family!"

"Will you shut it you old hag?" Interrupted Bakugou again. "They're not calling you that, and they don't want to."

"You're not the voice of reason here, you brat! Even as a man, you're still a child!"

You stuttered at the sudden change and turn of phrase every so often. The thought crossed your mind that you would've been so used to this family dynamic now. But there were some things you hoped you weren't the center of attention for. That was difficult when you were between Bakugou and his mother.

You gently held onto Bakugou's arm, pressing your body against it in hopes to comfort him while you smiled at Mitsuki.

"Why don't we cross that bridge when we cross the threshold?" You suggested. "After all it's your day today and we are happy to spend it with you out of our Hero schedules."

A deep sigh escaped Mitsuki's lips while she smiled back at you. "Of course, I still think that you're now a part of the Bakugou family, so no pressure when you're comfortable with the new names."

"You'll hear it straight from me," you reassured, causing a giggle to erupt from Mitsuki.

"Splendid, come on in." Mitsuki skipped inside the family home, leaving Bakugou and yourself by the door to spot Masaru following after her, mouthing his thanks to you.

You felt Bakugou's aggressive and tense nature wash away while you held onto his arm throughout the small conversation with Mitsuki, tenderly rubbing your hand against his skin before you noticed his stare on you.

"You okay?" You asked with a smile.

"Yeah, no thanks to that hag," he retorted. "But... thanks."

"Always here for you."

You felt his large hand intertwine with yours, fingers pressed together, palms touching. A smirk appeared on Bakugou's lips before he led you into his old family home, a place you had become acquainted with for years, now stepping into it as his fiancé.

#shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #midoriya x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha au #bnha sero #bnha fluff #bnha fanfiction

92 notes · View notes

weasleywinchester · 3 years ago

Text

The Way You Look Tonight - Chapter 2

Mr. Sandman

Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes X female reader

Allllrightttyyy fam, we're back with chapter 2! Which is pretty much as far as I've gotten with this day dream fic. This takes place ep.3/4 of TFATWS and this chapter starts immediately where the last chapter ends. ALSO we get a little hot steamy flash back scene y'all

Warnings: Nervous/ Angry/ Sexy Bucky, Zemo being sweet and sexy, Smut (because I have no self control) which includes: nipple play, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (always use protection you AND your partner have consented to), P in V sex, fingering, and random hook-up with a stranger (again, be careful irl).

Series Summary:

You’re obsessed with anything superhero (I mean all the best people are right?) Stark Industries, what better job could you ever have? And then becoming friends with the Avengers? Hot Damn, how was this your life? What you expected was to silently crush on one all of them until you died; what you got was an unexpected romance with one James Buchanan Barnes.

Chapter Summary:

Bucky and you, you and Bucky... it's how it should be, just ask Sam. But with the Assistant Director of the Department of Defense AND John Walker thinking they can outsmart you when it comes to your boys, they are mistaken. You'll do whatever it takes to help your friends make a better world, but will a silly one night stand break Bucky's trust in you?

“Not how I saw this trip going.” You muse out loud. You, Sam and Bucky are walking along the street, to nowhere in particular for the moment.

“Isn’t this how every trip goes?” Sam chuckles. You nod in agreement, your knuckles grazing with Bucky’s as you walk by his side. You’re not sure where you stand, but the fact you can’t freely lace your fingers through his kills you a little bit.

“We should probably get home. Figure out our next move.” Sam says over his shoulder. You nod, not hearing what he actually said.

“We should… we should talk.” Bucky says quietly, taking your hand in his.

“Ok.” You smile, your heart leaping at his touch.

Sam smiles too, glad Bucky wants to talk to you, and that you haven’t killed either of them.

“Sam, call this number. Tell Assistant Director Spencer we need a ride, and I need to talk to him.” He takes the phone and walks a head again, putting a little distance between him and the pair of you. You stay quiet, walking in comfortable silence with Bucky until Sam starts talking on the phone.

“Has it helped? The therapy?” You start, sneaking a glance at him.

He contemplates it; it wasn’t that he had a choice to go or not. It was the only way the world could move on from the Winter Soldier, the only way he could be forgiven. Helping the people he hurt did ease the pressure a little, let the world stop looking at him like an animal. But that wasn’t the hard part; the idea of forgiving himself… that he wasn’t ready for.

“Ya.” is all he’s able to give you, his hand gently squeezing yours.

“Good.” You squeeze back.

“Was there someone...” He grasps for the courage to finish asking, although he’s not sure he wants the answer.

“Pepper managed to shove me into a Stark Industries single mixer once. He flirted, I even let him kiss me. But he wasn’t you.” You confess. Bucky nods, glad Pepper succeeded at least once.

“Anyone for you?”

“A person on my list insisted I go out. She was nice but...” He stops walking, spinning you to face him. “(Y/N). I’m not a good man,” He holds up a hand to stop your protest. “Yet. There’s just a big mess up here, and you and Shuri and the Dora Milaje helped with the biggest knot in the string. And now I gotta do the rest of them.”

“And I will be there when you need me.” You smile, taking his other hand in yours.

“I can’t ask that of you.” He states, his eyes searching yours. He wants to ask that of you, to beg you to stay by his side; but he wants to offer you an easy way out too.

“You don’t have to.” You put his hands on your waist, and bring your own to rest on his strong chest. “You weren’t, and never will be, a burden or a charity case Bucky. I’m with you to the end of the line.” you whisper.

You’ve been telling him that since you met, the same amount of love in your eyes, the same kindness in your smile. The only difference now is that he can gently put his lips to yours.

“Oh thank the Lord above!” Sam shouts from the street corner, his hands wide to the sky as he dances around.

“Guess we’ll always have one person cheering for us.” You laugh against Bucky’s lips. You steal one more kiss before turning around and running to Sam with your arms raised in victory.

_______

“Miss (Y/L/N), very nice to see you again.” Assistant Director Spencer smiles, taking a big gulp of his coffee.

“Is it?” You ask, walking around him and sitting in his big fancy office chair. You glance at the clock, it says it’s 4:30 am. You made good time on your flight back.

“Guess that depends on whose story I believe.” He turns around and sits in the chair across from you. “Captain America wasn’t pleased with the results of the mission.”

“Are you alluding to the fact that Sam Wilson and James Barnes have decided against working for the government? Because that shouldn’t surprise anyone.” You grin.

“He says that it was because your intentions for the mission were, misleading.” He takes another sip of coffee. You raise your eyebrows at him, he may like Walker but he’s not a fool. “I enjoyed the chat with Mr. Wilson. Too bad he didn’t want to share more.”

You hum in agreement. You know that there’s a very good chance Dr. Raynor called and asked why Bucky’s therapy was being paused, especially since he and Sam did a session together. And then there’s you, a lover, you bet she can’t wait to help him unpack all that emotional baggage.

“(Y/N), is it alright I call you (Y/N)? The U.S. Government sent you with Captain America to find information.”

“Why was I dragged into this office for a mission and not when anyone found out Bucky came back from The Blip.” You interrupt. He blinks a few times, draining the last of his coffee and setting the cup on the desk.

“We figured it would be easier coming from your friends. We also figured you would have been at Tony Stark’s funeral-”

“I was! Us being in the same vicinity a handful of times doesn’t replace official government notice.” You slam your fist down on the desk. He takes a deep breath, leaning his elbows on the table to match your position.

“You’re the fail safe. With Barnes, and Rodgers for that matter. But you don’t work for the government. And from your pro Captain America Stance, didn’t seem like you ever wanted to. So, we get you on this mission, get your name stamped next to Barnes’s, and boom, a contract from the government that you eagerly agreed to.”

“Didn’t give you much information though.”

“It gave enough. Simple proof that Captain America needs clearance to solve the problem before unauthorized avengers do.” He leans back in his chair, like a man who just outsmarted his opponent. You nod, getting up from the chair and walking to the door.

“A warning Assistant Director.” You look over your shoulder, but he doesn’t move. “John Walker has a lot of decisions to make, and I don’t think he��ll make the right ones. Maybe I’ll be wrong.”

_______

“It's kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” Zemo grins, elated at the potential of seeing the Winter Soldier in action again.

Bucky stands, walking to the back of the plane and locking himself in the bathroom. Before he has the chance to think, your voice is coming through his phone.

“Hey, how’s the job?” You ask. Your voice is like a beacon, letting his mind come back to a place of peace. He imagines you’re sitting at your desk, probably reorganizing it for the third time this week. He can hear you open and close drawers, shuffle papers.

“I have to… to be it again.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“To be...”

“The Winter Soldier.” He swallows the lump in his throat. He’s gotten so used to stuffing everything down, but he can’t slip back into that.

“Am I allowed to know why?” You ask, voice unwavering in the face of the unknown.

“Madripoor.”

Fuck. That means he and Sam are scraping the bottom of the barrel. You stop the project you’re working on and start stuffing travel necessities into a back pack.

“Doll, you still there?” He’s heart begins to race. What if this is where-

“Stay vigilant. You can’t afford to miss a single detail; or give one away. Don’t let yourself fall back on anything. Think about it for what it is: an act of how you were a long time ago. Something that starts and ends within twenty four hours.” You say gently, trying to keep any panic out of your voice.

He nods, you’re right. He’s pretending. A role that he knows inside and out, but at the end of the day, one he can leave behind.

“How are you even getting to Madripoor?” You pause the packing, it’s not like any of you have a private plan.

“Zemo.” Bucky reluctantly answers.

“Isn’t he in jail?”

“He was...”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. Don’t be angry, he… knows what he’s doing? And Sam is there, so it’ll be fine.

“(Y/N)?”

“Be careful. And think ahead please. Last thing I want is to have to fight to get your body back to the States.”

“Will do.” He smiles.

“I love you.” You sigh as he hangs up.

“Love you.” he whispers into the emptiness.

_______

You quickly zip your packed bag and call a car to take you to the airport. Luckily Pepper still owns a few planes that are not Stark Industries branded. You’re making sure work is settled and ignoring all texts from John and Lemar when an “unknown number” calls. This should be fun.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Oh good, I caught you.” A woman says on the other end.

“Sharon?” You guess.

“Could always recognize voices, even if you haven’t heard them in a few years.” She laughs.

“I wasn’t even sure if you were still alive.” You comment, instantly regretting it.

“I am, and in Madripoor. I’m guessing you’re on your way?” When you don’t answer she continues. “There will be a car to pick you up. It’ll take you to my place.”

“What made you think I would come?”

“You’re always the right distance away.” She answers, hanging up.

The flight was fast, thanks to Tony’s private plane and the long nap you took. If you had flown commercial you’d be barely leaving the states. As Sharon instructed there was a car waiting for you. What you didn’t expect was to be going to Lowtown. The car dropped you at what seemed to be a warehouse and she was waiting for you at the curb.

“Good to see you (Y/N).” She gives you a hug.

“You too. So what’s on the agenda?” You wrap an arm around her waist and she leads you inside. She gives you a brief overview of what the boys got up to earlier.

“So enjoy the party, maybe you’ll meet Zemo.” She says through the bathroom door.

“Sharon, this is the least amount of dress I’ve ever worn.” You look at yourself in the mirror. She handed you a dress, heels and heat rollers as soon as you stepped foot into her place.

“Well you have to blend in...” She smirks from the doorway. She chose a very short, silk flared dress that if you even had the thought to lean forward your ass would be out. The color could only be described as Captain America blue, both yours and Bucky’s favorite. The straps were as thin as angel hair pasta, so no bra. But damn did you look hot as fuck.

“Do you want these?” She holds out two nipple pasties for you.

“I have the smallest pair of underwear on, so might as well let my nipples enjoy the silk.” You laugh, taking the rollers out of your hair. “How did you even find this? I can never even find anything half as sexy for my size in the States.”

“Madripoor offers a lot of things from a lot of places.” She fixes your straps, smiling at you in the mirror. “The boys are downstairs.” She gestures for you to follow her.

The music is so loud you can’t hear yourself think. A few people turn to you, eyes devouring your body as you worm your way through the crowd. Your eyes instantly snap to his broad shoulders covered by his signature leather jacket. You shove his shoulder so he spins to face you.

“Well don’t you look good enough to eat.” You growl, grabbing a fist full of his black shirt to pull him down to your level, which in these heels isn’t as far as normal. He frowns at the intrusion until he realizes it’s you.

“Hey doll.” He smiles, his eyes traveling down to your chest, your nipples poking through the thin fabric. You hook a finger under his chin, tilting his gaze back to your face. You gesture to one of the doors at the side of the room, his smirk widening as he lets you drag him into the empty hallway.

“Talk about a party.” you giggle, turning around to face Bucky.

His eyes are hungrily traveling over every inch of your body, blood rushing out of his brain the more he tries to decide what his favorite part of the dress is.

“Did you want to talk...” You innocently suggest, looking up through your thick lashes. His eyes finally make it back to your face and he shakes his head no, stalking toward you, flinging his gloves off as he reaches for your hips, roughly walking you into a little alcove in the corner.

His lips find yours in a searing kiss that makes you dizzy with the sudden flood of adrenaline. He slides his hands down your ass, kneading it until you softly moan against his mouth, his tongue quickly finding yours to tangle with.

You release your grasp from his shoulders, sliding your hand between your bodies to palm him through his jeans. His mouth falls away from yours, his forehead resting in the curve of your neck as he lets out a desperate groan, grinding into your touch. His lips reach for any patch of skin, sucking and licking and biting until he feels your body tremble against his.

“Missed this, missed us.” He moans, bending his knees to gently lift you, guiding your legs to grip around his waist.

“Buck- “

He pushes himself flush against you, one of your straps falling off your shoulder. He resist the urge to roll his hips into you, opting to hike you up a bit further so your tits sit right at face level. Gently taking the edge of your dress between his teeth, moving it to reveal your hardened bud and eagerly taking it into his mouth, sucking and licking just the way you like. You moan to the ceiling, fingers threading into Bucky’s hair in an attempt to hold for dear life.

“Other side darlin’” he whispers against your sternum. You quickly shimmy the strap off your shoulder, very thankful you passed on the pasties.

“Bucky, need you.” you moan, your hips rocking against his abs. You need friction, and you need it now. He reluctantly lets your nipple go, letting you settle back to his hips. He rolls against you, the strain in his jeans almost unbearable as you dig your fingers into his shoulders.

“Baby… please.” He begs, holding you far enough away that you can reach down and release him. You hand grips his length, automatically sliding back and forth. He almost drops you at the sensation, he’s played memories like this over and over in his head, but damn.

His fingers move off your ass, searching for your underwear but all he can find is a string.

“Rip them.” you whine. And with one swift movement you feel the strings of your thong break and his length slide right into you. You both moan as Bucky readjusts his grip.

“Please” you breathe, and that’s all he needs to build his pace. And it feels like everything is on fire, all so overwhelming, the squelching noise coming from your soaked pussy, the way his fingers dig into your thighs, the way your pretty tits bounce as he pounds you into the wall.

And then your thighs push him hard against you, and he looks up to see your blissed out face as you pulse around him. Your mouth open in pure ecstasy as he finishes inside you. His head comes to rest in the crook of your neck, watching you chest fall and rise as you come down from your high.

He feels your legs go slack, knowing you're ready to be put down. He gives each nipple a kiss before gently pulling out of you, and slowly putting your legs down.

You lean against the wall, eyes still closed and breathing almost back to normal. He burns this image of you into his mind; blissed out, tits out and a slow dribble of your shared cum on your inner thighs. You take a breath in, tucking your boobs back into your dress and reaching for the bandanna Bucky keeps in his pocket. You gently wipe him clean, tuck him back into his jeans and then clean yourself off.

“A memento.” You tuck the bandana in his back pocket as he retrieves his gloves from the floor.

“Don’t worry, that memory will be put in the rotation with the others.” He smirks, giving you a quick kiss.

“So how did the meeting go?” You ask.

“Not how we planned. But we did manage to find out where the lab is. So we’ll be dealing with that tomorrow.” He cups your chin, his fingers lightly skimming over your perfectly swollen lips.

“Do you want me to stay.” You whisper, your hands wrapping around his waist.

“Always. But I think you should go ahead of us. I’ll have Zemo give me an address. We’ll meet you there.”

“We could just take the same plane.” You shake your head.

“If it were up to me you would never meet Zemo.”

_______

The Smithsonian, Washington D.C.

10 Years ago

“Welcome to the newest exhibit at the world famous Smithsonian! We hope you enjoy learning about the War Hero Group: The Howling Commandos! Don’t forget to...”

You smile at the announcement you’ve heard a hundred times already. You’ve spent every day in this exhibit; reading every plaque, watching every film reel and talking to every tour guide. You had managed to win a ticket to the opening gala, and the press week that came before it. Most of the people you talked to were fans of Cap, but not necessarily the history that came before or after him. After talking about the newspaper comics for hours on end you decided to just stop talking to people; it was always the same conversations, the same points of view.

You had decided to do something you hadn’t done in ages: draw. Here in the exhibit you felt so inspired seeing uniforms, old vehicles and the world's largest collection of Project Rebirth information. You enjoyed drawing everyone from this exhibit, but James Buchanan Barnes always captured your attention. You always admired the strength he had to keep fighting, even after he had been tortured by Hydra.

You had been sitting in one of the theater rooms that showed news reels for the last hour, always waiting for the one that showed Bucky and Steve smiling. As it appeared your pencil would move as quickly as possible to catch a new set of details. And when it was over you let your mind wander, and your eyes unfocus.

“It’s a beautiful drawing.” A voice behind you compliments, making you jump, your pencil clinking to the floor.

“My apologies, let me get that for you.” He kneels to grab the pencil, holding it out for you, a small smile on his face; his brown eyes twinkling even in the dark.

“Thanks. Most of the time no one notices.” You laugh. He chuckles, his accent present even in his laugh.

“I notice a lot. May I join you?” He gestures to the seat next to you. You nod, moving you bag to the other side of you.

“Fan of Mr. Barnes?” He nods to your drawing.

“Ya. He and Steve are very interesting. Although I think I know everything about them already.” You laugh.

“Is that so?” the stranger smiles, putting his arm along the back of your seat and turning his body to fully face you. You shrug, smiling back. “Maybe we could chat over dinner?”

“I don’t even know your name.” You laugh.

“Helmut.” He holds his hand out to you.

“(Y/N).” You place your hand in his.

_______

“Waiter, a bottle of your finest...” Helmut turns to you.

“Champagne?” You shrug. Helmet whispers something to the waiter, who bows and scurries to retrieve the bottle. “I can’t afford the finest anything, Helmut. I literally won my ticket into this event.” you add.

“I certainly can. My treat for the intriguing conversation.” He grins, his eyes gently raking over your body. You try not to squirm, it’s not that he in particular is looking at you, but just the fact that he’s looking. Normally men don’t react to you like he is.

You go to tell him you’ve enjoyed the night when the waiter comes over with two glasses and a bottle of Sokovian Bubbly.

“To you Princezná. A woman of many talents.” He holds his glass out to you, waiting for you to clink his; but you can’t move. No romantic partner has called you by anything other than your name.

He watches you for a brief moment, your reaction to the pet name adorable. You’re so young and kind, he can’t afford to remember your name, for your own safety. He shakes the thoughts, gently clinking his glass to yours.

“Thank you.” You smile, downing the whole glass, the bubbles oddly calming your nerves. He downs his, refilling both your glasses.

And the night doesn’t seem to end. You talk through every detail the other knows about Project Rebirth, deep diving into things that don’t line up, celebrating when the stories are the same. He even asks you to dance, sweeping you around the floor like a professional (which is impressive because you’re not a trained dancer in any way and you’re tipsy.) After much dancing and another bottle of bubbly, he offers to let you freshen up in his hotel suite above the restaurant.

“After you.” He gestures as the doors to a private elevator open. He pushes the button for the penthouse, coming to stand by you.

“I had a wonderful time.” You smile, your eyes lazily focusing on his face.

“As did I.” He turns to you, one hand gripping the rail behind you, the other finding purchase on your waist. Your makeup has smudged a little, but your eyes still sparkle with joy, your perfume making him drunk with lust. Your heart flutters as his lips hover over yours, your left hand gripping his bicep to bring him closer. When his lips meld against yours a warmth shoots through you, making you desperate for more.

He gently pulls at your bottom lip, eliciting the perfect little gasp that grants him entrance to your mouth. It feels like the air has been stolen from your lungs, and if you died from this kiss you would be ok with that. He guides your leg to settle around his waist, gently pushing your gown up your thigh. And when he gently rolls his hips into you, you break the kiss, desperate to fill your lungs with air. His lips move the column of your neck, sucking, licking and biting until a deep moan pushes its way up your throat.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He whispers, stopping his actions until you give him a breathy yes. He returns to his ministrations with his mouth, and then you feel one of his nimble fingers run along the edge of your underwear. You instinctively roll your hips, your pussy fitting perfectly into the palm of his hand.

He chuckles at your neediness, letting out a low growl against your neck as he drags a finger through your dripping cunt; all he’s done is kiss you and you’re ready to fall apart. He gently toys with your clit, trying different patterns until he finds the one that makes your nails dig into his shoulders. He smiles against your skin now damp from the rising temperature of the elevator. He moves his finger from your clit, gently shushing you when you let out a small whine.

“Patience Princezná.” He whispers, pushing one long finger inside you, quickly followed by another. He bends and curls and presses along your walls, reaching a new spot that makes you almost collapse. He keeps a steady pace concentrated there, his thumb coming up to play with your clit and his mouth sliding against yours.

It’s all too much, you feel like you’re on fire or that you’re going to explode to pieces. A wave of heat pulses from your center, your ears ringing with the intense rush. Helmut watches that pretty little mouth of yours fall open, a silent scream as you pulse around his fingers.

The elevator dings, finally arriving at his room. He slowly pulls his fingers from you, licking them clean so he can guide you inside without staining your dress.

You quickly fix your makeup, staring at the reflection of the girl in the mirror. She’s strong, sexy and there’s a look of mischief in her eye. For a moment you forget it’s you.

“Helmut?” You call from the bathroom. You click down the hall, peering into the dark sitting room, listening for any sound.

“Here Princezná.” He walks out from the kitchen, two glasses of water in hand. He watches you take the glass, gulping it down in one swig. You are beautiful. But after everything last year… you’re only a distraction. You could never hold his heart, it died with his family.

“Princezná,” He whispers, gently picking up your hand. His eyes search your face, but no words come out. But you understand, this was a moment of passion.

“May we meet again.” You smile. He nods, pecking you on the cheek and sending you back down the elevator.

_______

Riga, Latvia

Present Day

“Helmut?” You frown as a familiar blonde man walks in with Sam and Bucky.

“Princezná” He smiles, striding over to you, immediately kissing your cheek.

“What are you doing here?” You smile at him, cupping his face in your hands. He looks exactly the same as the last time you saw him, that mischievous sparkle still in his eye as he smiles.

You turn to your friends, wondering how they could all know each other. The look on Bucky’s face is enough to immediately wipe the smile off yours. He looks appalled that you have any connection with Helmut. You glance at Sam, silently asking what’s Bucky’s problem but his eyebrows have seemed to have flown off his face.

“What?” You ask, stepping out of Helmut’s grip. The silence hangs between the four of you. You can practically hear the dialup noises coming out of Bucky’s ears, surprised he hasn’t lashed out. Helmut on the other hand wraps his arm around your waist, leaning his head against yours.

“Almost as fun as the last time we met Princezná.” He whispers in your ear.

“You know Zemo?” Bucky shouts, his fist clenching as tight as they go.

“Oh, very well.” Zemo mumbles into your hair, his silky voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Zemo? Like...” You try to focus as he gently presses each finger into your side, a wave of goosebumps spreading over your skin.

“Hydra obsessed, used me as the Winter soldier, Zemo? Ya that guy.” Bucky growls, flexing his jaw.

“Princezná, am I your dirty little secret?” Helmut grins, his nose gently tracing your neck and eyes dancing with mischief as he looks over at Bucky.

“Can I talk to you?” Bucky glares, doing his best to ignore Zemo.

“Whiskey, on the rocks Helmut, make it a double.” You whisper as you follow Bucky into one of the bedrooms.

“What the hell?” He pins you to the door, clicking it shut. You glare at his arms, and then at him. He realizes he’s jumping all over you, boxing you in; and you hate that. It was one of the very few things you asked him not to do. He closes his eyes, inhales and takes a step back. You wait to see if he says anything. But he just threads his hands into his hair, taking another deep breath.

“I didn’t know who he was when we met.” You begin. He huffs in disbelief, shaking his head. “It was before I even met you!” You throw your hands in the air.

“Did you sleep with him?” Bucky demands. You two may not have been together but he doesn’t understand how you could be tricked by fuckin Zemo.

“No… well...” You mumble. Bucky rolls his eyes, turning in a circle. “I never even got his last name! Hell Bucky, we talked about you. It was so nice to talk with someone that had almost the same amount of knowledge about Project Rebirth and I knew things he didn’t, he knew things I didn’t” You can feel yourself sinking lower into the hole you are digging for yourself, might as well bury your own body. “He flirted, I flirted. He asked me to dinner, and then drinks…”

Bucky turns enough that you can see his profile, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he mulls over this information. Why couldn’t you have picked a different Avenger to obsess over? Why did it have to be Steve? And subsequently him? She helped the Dora Milaje, without her you wouldn’t believe that you could ever be a decent man, let alone a good one. He repeats in his head. But Zemo? Out of all people. He finally turns to face you, he understands Zemo’s attraction to you, anyone who says different is just a damn fool.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You grit through your teeth.

“Like what?” He shrugs.

“Like I’m an idiot.” Now it’s your turn to clench your fists. He scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m not exactly the girl who gets attention from handsome men on a regular basis. I liked the attention. I liked being desired. I liked that we talked all night. I will not apologize for liking the way he made me feel, for letting myself act on a whim.” You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the door.

He just stares, dumbfounded. He doesn’t blame you for wanting those things, just being dumb enough to not see you already have them. You turn heads with your confidence, the way you take control of a room, the way you ask questions that everyone else is too scared to, the way you jump into action when people need you. Guys just know to keep it to themselves because they would get their ass kicked otherwise.

“Does he still make you feel that way?” Bucky whispers. He looks up at you, your shoulders slumping as you stride over to him.

“Bucky, it was one evening several years ago. It was a little bit of fun, no feelings. The only person I’m in love with is you.” You place your hands on his chest. Bucky holds your whole heart, and you know that scares him sometimes, especially when his own mind was used against him for so long.

He gently engulfs your hands in his own, leaning his forehead against yours. You are the most beautiful woman to walk the planet and for some strange reason you chose him. You’ve seen him through a lot, seen him at his lowest, and yet, you stand by him. You’re his north star, the pair of eyes he could quickly pick out in any crowd, your voice better than any song, and your heart more pure than even Steve’s. He’ll always be yours, and he must remember that you’ll always be his.

_______

Sam had come up with the idea that there might be a funeral service for Donya. You would be surprised if there wasn’t; Karli seems like she would prize family and community above everything, even her mighty cause.

You had found out where the local displacement center was, showing Zemo on the map. He had recognized it, taking the three of you there.

“Shame what's become of this place. When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful.” Zemo comments, looking around the old buildings. Most look like they had been stripped of their beauty; jewels missing out of statues, walls graffitied, and windows broken.

“I'm gonna take a look around upstairs. See what you can find out here. And keep an eye on him.” Sam looks between you and Bucky. You both nod, watching him jog up the stairs.

“I'll stay out of your way.” Zemo directs at Bucky, holding his hands up in surrender. Bucky frowns but doesn't say anything.

“Princezná.” Zemo smiles, holding his arm out for you. You see Bucky stiffen as you place your hand on Zemo’s elbow, but if you want to learn more about this man you have to play the part he expects.

“The Winter Soldier doesn’t seem any less angry about us.” Zemo comments, walking you towards the group of kids playing in the courtyard.

“He’s not angry about us, just about you.” You say through your teeth as you smile at one of the smaller kids. Zemo matches your smile, taking a deep breath in as you pass under the stone archway.

“♪ Baa, Baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full; One for my master, one for the dame; One for the little girl who lives down the lane.♪” he kneels, throwing a bag of candy on the table in front of the kids. “Turkish delight. It was always my son's favorite.” He comments.

Your breath catches in your throat; you didn’t know Zemo had a son. You figured he lost a lover after your night together went no further than the elevator, but to lose your whole family…

“My old friend, Donya, passed away. Did you know her?” He asks one of the older girls.

“Yes.” She nods, her eyes flicking from the candy to his face.

“I would like to pay my last respects. Do you know where her funeral will be?” He holds a candy out to her, giving her a kind smile. She nods, and whispers in his ear. He whispers back, gesturing to Bucky and Sam as he tells her something. You turn to look at them, Bucky’s classic scowl clear even from across the courtyard.

“But this lovely woman here, she can always be trusted.” He kisses your hand, winking at the kids. They giggle as they dig into the bag of candy. He places your hand back in the crook of his arm, walking you over to Bucky.

“Cute kids.” He smiles, walking in between Bucky and Sam.

You share a look with Bucky, thankful he understood and relaxed his shoulders a fraction. You four walk in silence, the crunch of gravel mixing with the distant noises of people living their lives.

“Princezná …” Zemo whispers, surprised by your silence this whole trip.

“Were you trying to forget the pain, or at least numb it for the night.” You state. He takes a deep breath in, conflicted just as before.

“I let the grief consume me." He begins, he has nothing left anyways, "And then I met you. You pulled my focus back to my mission. A silly American girl gave me more information about the Winter Soldier than any scholar. You deserved to be rewarded.”

You roll your eyes, who would have thought Steve and Bucky would be getting you in trouble before you even met them.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your family. And your country.” You stop walking, bringing his face to look at you. He nods, his eyes not quite meeting yours. "But you choose this path, and it's one I can't bring you back from."

"Princezná." He gives you a small smile as Bucky and Sam catch up to you. He nods to Bucky, removing your hand from his shoulder and walking a head of you.

#bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes x y/n #TFATWS #sam wilson #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #zemo x reader #zemo x plus size reader #john walker #lemar hoskins

70 notes · View notes