#on why he is such an interesting character

[swagglessmoth]

My grades are suffering and so are they

[luna-azzurra]

Emotionally Questionable but Artistically Valid Things To Do When You’re a Writer Losing the Plot (Literally or Figuratively)

Write your WIP’s obituary. “She lived a chaotic life, filled with plot holes, unresolved arcs, and one very confusing love triangle. She is survived by a Google Doc, 74 sticky notes, and a Pinterest board titled ‘vibes but make it pain.’” Bonus catharsis if you make it weirdly tender. Double bonus if you actually cry a little.

Make your WIP a dating profile. Age: Timeless. Location: Trapped in your brain since 2018. Looking for: A writer who won’t ghost me mid-draft. Interests: Slow burn tension, morally gray decisions, and long walks through traumatic backstory. Will it match with anyone? No. But you might remember why you fell in love with it in the first place.

Assign your plot holes a Hogwarts house. That one you keep ignoring? Slytherin. The subplot that’s doing too much? Hufflepuff with main character energy. The gaping logic error you swear you’ll fix later? Ravenclaw, but drunk. Somehow this helps. Somehow this feels like control.

Write a resignation letter from your genre. “Dear Fantasy, it’s not you, it’s me. Actually—it is you. The worldbuilding demands are emotionally abusive, and I just want to write messy little humans having conversations that ruin their lives.” You can always go back. Or not. You’re allowed to genre-hop like a chaotic frog with a laptop.

Host a fake podcast episode where you psychoanalyze your protagonist. Today on Therapy, But Make It Fictional, we discuss why Aiden cannot maintain a single healthy relationship, the consequences of childhood abandonment, and how trauma is not a personality trait (even though he tries). Record yourself. Don’t post it. Unless you do. I won’t stop you.

Put your WIP characters in a reality show. Big Brother: Emotional Damage Edition. Who cries first? Who forms a secret alliance? Who self-destructs on Day 2 because someone used their emotional trauma as a joke? (Yes, this is basically writing. Yes, this counts.)

Create an “Am I the Problem?” chart for your WIP. Spoiler: You’re not. The plot arc from hell is. But mapping it out like a true crime board will help. Use yarn. Use vibes. Use Google Slides if you’re a Virgo. Just externalize the chaos.

Write fanfiction… of your own book. That spicy scene you know you won’t put in because it messes with pacing? Write it. That “what if they shared a bed but didn’t touch” trope you secretly crave? Give in. You are your first fan. Be delulu. Be free.

Create a soundtrack for your villain’s redemption arc that will never happen. Include Lana Del Rey. Include Mitski. Include at least one angry violin solo. You don’t have to redeem them, but you can imagine them staring into the rain while “The Sound of Silence” plays.

Doodle your plot like a crime scene. Victim: Narrative Cohesion. Suspects: A surprise third act twist, a talking sword, and that one flashback chapter that broke the timeline. Go full corkboard-and-pushpins energy. You’ll either solve it or at least feel like an unhinged genius. Which is basically the same.

[jinwoosungs]

05/04/25; 10:25pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you are their favorite love interest ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

notes: i know that this has been done before, but this is just my own take on this fun thought, and i hope you readers give this a chance, too (⺣◡⺣)♡

when sylus first heard of this new game that was celebrating its day one launch, admittedly, the onychinus leader had zero interest in it-

that is, until a particular trailer was showcased introducing a rather enticing love interest-

you.

to say sylus was hooked would be a complete understatement. within seconds of your trailer’s release, sylus downloaded the game and got to work. he did not hold back when it came to his spendings, already adding in the details of his sleek black credit card before customizing his mc. after making his mc look as close to him as possible, he chooses you to be his partner while running through the main storyline.

thanks to his endless amount of wealth, he manages to obtain all of your five star cards that were available in game, maxing out all of your memory upgrades while unlocking all of your secret time audios in just a few week’s time. and despite how seductive and alluring you were during those intimate audios, sylus’s favorite card of yours happened to be one of the sweetest memories, with you taking a walk with his mc in the snow.

to say he was enamored with you would simply scratch the surface of his feelings for you, for this man was entirely devoted to you. the story of your life-

the trials and tribulations that you faced gave sylus the strength to continue on with his life. after a particular grueling day working as a leader of a conglomerate, he enjoys laying in bed while replaying his favorite memories with you before falling asleep with your audios playing in the background.

even though many would find his feelings for you, a mere fictional character, to be silly (and maybe a little cringey) sylus doesn’t give a damn-

for he will always bask in the feelings of peace you give him.

admittedly, zayne only downloaded this popular new game after his coworkers convinced him to. during his lunch breaks, he finds himself opening the app to go through the main storyline while being drawn to one of the main love interests-

you.

there was a subtle beauty that he could see from you, with your quiet yet headstrong nature making him crack a tiny smile while he read through the storyline. after finishing the main branch, zayne puts in some time (and some much needed funds) to obtain your five star memories.

yet perhaps what zayne enjoyed more than your memories were the quality time feature that the game had. he had managed to raise your affinity to the mid 50s level and enjoyed watching you study or work with him. even though he knew that you were a character made of pixels, zayne couldn’t help but let his fondness for you grow.

even as he was doing his own paperwork, zayne couldn’t help but sneak glances at you, only to feel his heart clench when you stare back at him with a sweet smile on your face. the cardiac surgeon would quickly look away from you, cheeks dyed a faint rosy hue as his lips were unconsciously tilted up in a smile that lasts.

being a bit of a passionate gamer in linkon, xavier was one of the few players that was able to play the game during its beta phase before the official launch date.

and the reason why he signed up to be one of the first couple of hundred players to test out this new game?

why, it’s because of you, of course!

xavier had come across your trailer during an announcement for your game, and he was completely hooked on your strength and overall aesthetic. when the developers announced that they would allow a handful of players to test out their game, xavier was the first to put his name on the list-

and by some stroke of luck, he manages to obtain your game roughly 6 months before its official release. despite having some minor hiccups with loading screens and a few glitches, xavier thoroughly enjoyed the game while playing through some chapters of the main storyline.

yet what the young hunter really excelled at was level grinding you, his favorite girl. he hates seeing you get hurt, so he will spend a decent amount of his money getting as many of your cards that he could (bonus points if he manages to obtain your myth pair!)

xavier would be the first to clear out any fighting stages with how powerful you are thanks to his careful dedication to you, and when xavier finds out he can keep his progress with you even after the game’s official release, he couldn’t be any happier-

because in xavier’s eyes, it was you and him against the world.

rafayel would be an obnoxious player, simply going through the motions of the main storyline to unlock certain outfits before showing you off with his own mc in hundreds of photo shoots.

being an artist at heart, when he first met your character in the game, rafayel had hearts in his eyes for you alone as he matches his mc’s aesthetic with your own. he loves going on dates with you, finding enjoyment in how you struggled to get the plushies he wanted at the claw machines, or how you would always pout at him when he beats you at kitty cards.

rafayel would also be dedicated to you, managing to get to devotion with you thanks to his own funding that he put in your game. the moment you shyly hand him a box with his engagement ring, the young artist would be over the moon!

he enjoys interacting with you, often teasing you by poking you through his phone’s screen. rafayel swears that he lives to see your cheeks puffed out in a pout while turning your back on him. just seeing all of your cute reactions makes rafayel grin like an absolute fool.

and truly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

caleb was a f2p player, but had the worst luck when it came to pulling for your cards. 99% of the times, he would pull a different love interest, or lose to a 50/50 to one of your five star memories that he really wanted.

however, him being a f2p player went down the drain when your springtime date banner was announced-

and he was hooked on your beauty and how gorgeously soft you looked in your sundress. due to how lovely you looked, caleb swore that he would do anything to obtain this precious memory. during his day off, he focused his entire attention on getting your banner, using his card to buy the needed pulls to obtain that precious memory.

shockingly enough, you came home to him just a mere thirty pulls later, with caleb nearly jumping for joy when he gets your card. not wasting another second, he plays the date while basking in your beautiful smile. during the memory, caleb couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of his mc-

because why was his mc able to touch and hold you, while caleb was left feeling like a third wheel?

but he digresses.

shoving down his unreasonable feelings of envy, he enjoys the tranquil kiss scene, his heart melting at the sight of you falling into his mc’s arms before pressing your lips against his.

with a stupid smile on his face, he finishes reading through the memory of your springtime date before spending the flowers he saved up to purchase the exact sundress you had worn during the date.

as he interacts with you, cooing at his phone’s screen about how pretty you were, caleb realized that you were worth every penny.

end notes: hehehe finally some more fluff from yours truly

(⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[weirdoldmanhoho]

Sibling dynamic of all time. They both have such a complex about needing to protect the other one.

Like Ed has it in his head that he's the older one and the caretaker, even though Al's only a year younger and they both basically had to raise themselves/each other when their mother died. They BOTH grew up really fast, and Al has been through the same defining experiences that Ed has. (And is ALSO incredibly smart/talented for his age.) But Ed still sees Al as relying on him and as his responsibility.

It's like how Ed views them losing their bodies as HIS fault, because he was the older, mature one setting a bad example, even though Al actively made the same choice and worked alongside Ed to achieve it. (Even though Al sees himself as equally responsible for the consequences of their actions.)

But then Al feels responsible for protecting Ed because of the position he's in - because he may have lost his body, but Ed's the one experiencing pain. Ed's the one putting himself in danger all the time and he can actually die. And because he feels like Ed sacrificed more FOR him. So there's this dynamic of Al feeling responsible for stepping up and protecting his brother who's taking too much on.

They're closer to equals than how we normally see older/younger sibling dynamics in media, which is so fun and more interesting. (And probably yet another reason why I find 03 less interesting on a character level lol.)

(But yeah. What Ed has in age, Al has in emotional maturity and self-control lol.)

Al and Ed's dynamic is so funny bc Edward's got such a complex about being the older one even tho the difference is by one year and he thinks himself a single mother of one raising Al by himself and he needs to protect his little baby brother at all costs then Alphonse is like holding Ed's leash and telling him no when he barks/lunges at passers-by and is making sure he gets his rabies shots and doesn't die doing something stupid also protecting him at all costs etc

[xyywrites]

Avoiding the “Mary Sue” trap while creating characters.

A “Mary Sue” is that charact. Perfect; bends the story to their will, faces no meaningful struggles, and often feels too idealized to be relatable. The thing I like most is when an author makes a character, a situation, a scene, realistic. I like heavy realism in my books. I know we read to escape reality, but there's a way to do that.

1. Give Them Flaws Not the checklist kind. Not "clumsy" or "bad at math" unless that genuinely bleeds into who they are and how they move through the world. I mean the kind of flaws that crack open relationships. That drive certain choices. That make you want to shake them. Flaws should cost them something. Otherwise, they’re decoration.

2. Let Them Fail Failure is the most human thing. It brings shame, doubt, growth, all the stuff that makes a character feel alive. Let them try, and stumble. Let them mess up something important. Let them hurt people and not know how to fix it. Failure opens narrative doors that perfection just slams shut.

3. Don’t Make Everyone Love Them If every side character is just there to admire your MC, you’re not writing a story—you’re writing propaganda. Let people mistrust them. Let some hate them. Not everyone sees the same version of a person. Maybe someone sees behind their act, maybe someone’s immune to their charm. That gives perspective.

4. Make Their Skills Believable A skill with no backstory is just plot armor. If they're good at something, show why. Time. Training. Failure. Maybe they’re not even the best—just someone who works harder than they should have to. That’s infinitely more compelling than someone who just is talented for no reason.

5. Avoid Overloading Them With Traits They don’t need to be smart, funny, hot, tragic, a prodigy, a rebel, and an empath who bakes when sad. Choose what matters. Strip it down to the few traits that define them, the ones they carry into every scene. Complexity is about layers, not a pile of labels.

6. Give Them Internal Conflict We all contradict ourselves. That’s the beauty of it. Your character should wrestle with decisions. Regret them. Say one thing and feel another. Inner conflict is what separates a walking trope from a person we believe in.

7. Let the Plot Push Back The world shouldn’t bend for your character. The plot should push them, break them, make them bleed for the win. Their goals should cost something. The story isn’t just their playground—it’s the pressure cooker where they get tested. If they’re never cornered, what’s the point?

8. Ensure They Don’t Eclipse the Entire Cast Other characters are not props. Give them wants, voices, limits. They don’t exist to spotlight the protagonist—they exist to breathe life into the story. And your MC is more interesting when they’re surrounded by people who push them, contradict them, challenge them.

9. Avoid Unrealistic Morality Nobody’s always right. And honestly, it’s annoying when they are. Let them justify things that aren’t justifiable. Let them fail to see another perspective. Let them believe they’re in the right—until they’re not. Give them a compass that doesn’t always point true north.

10. Make Them Struggle to Earn Trust Trust is a slow build. People remember hurt. They hesitate. Let your MC do the work—prove themselves, fail, rebuild. Trust earned over time is more satisfying than instant loyalty that comes out of nowhere.

I hate perfect characters. Especially when it’s pretend perfection. Like what do you mean he has abs when he has no time to workout? Like what do you mean she is so put together all the time? In this economy?

let's write something raw, something realistic.

[buildoblivion]

i think the reason why thunderbolts works so well is that the team is like 80% legacy heroes/ knock off avengers but they’re all old enough to remember when princess diana died

[randomthefox]

You can tell someone's point is complete bullshit when all their sources of evidence they're citing are the comics and cartoons which are In Name Only adaptations, and not the actual video games. "Sonic and Tails are all wuvy and wholesome and would never bust each others balls, look at all these screenshots from the comics that prove that!"

Meanwhile in the video games, Sonic and Tails tease each other all the time.

Tails is not treated as "a child" if anything he's treated as the most sensible and mature member of the friend group who has to manage the extreme personality types of everyone else. Tails definitely has personality issues that Sonic is aware of and knows how to soothe, but generally speaking Tails is the reliable and responsible one.

They also NEVER refer to each other as brothers outside of LITERALLY TWO SPECIFIC INSTANCES in Sonic Frontiers where Sonic calling Tails "little bro" was being framed as A BAD THING he was doing because it was infantalizing and patronizing and a result of Sonic seeing Tails as weaker and in need of help and guidance, and the culmination of that chapter was Sonic no longer calling him that and instead referring to him as "partner" instead. The word choice being used for a particular narrative purpose for the sake of the storytelling, and not an accurate reflection of the way the characters view each other. People really need to get the fuck over this, Sonic and Tails have a bond that goes BEYOND family. Referring to them as brothers is a REDUCTION of their relationship.

>he has absolutely no problem indulging tails' interests and needs!!

Note again that NONE of your examples are from THE VIDEO GAMES -_- meanwhile in the video games i.e. THE SOURCE MATERIAL THAT THESE CHARACTERS ORIGINATE FROM

>and TAILS thinks his brother is the coolest thing in the world!! he wants to emulate and be more like him!

In Sonic 2 through Adventure.

Tails' entire character arc is learning that he has value in being himself. Him emulating and imitating Sonic is A BAD THING that he needs to GROW OUT OF. His FUCKING THEME SONG is ENTIRELY about this.

If I just follow you, I will never see the light Now is the time to find my way through this life Trying so hard to be strong

Many friends help me out, in return I help them Certain things I can do And there are things that only I can do No one's alone

Tails wanting to emulate Sonic is a sign of his insecurity, and when he self actualizes in the finale of the Hero story of Sonic Adventure 2 he completely moves on from that mentality. Tails has accepted that he is his own person with his own strength and values and interests, and he can stand on his own two feet instead of being in Sonic's shadow. Sonic was the catalyst for this, but it was development by and for Tails to move on from "needing" Sonic.

What you are saying has not been true of Tails for over twenty years now. If you think that the comics demonstrate that it is still true about him, then that's just one of the many many many reasons these comics are ASS and GARBAGE and DO NOT ACCURATELY REPRESENT THIS FRANCHISE.

>why would u want to make this relationship into a stereotype? they're not typical brothers, they formed this special unbreakable bond themselves!!

I agree with this statement, but your reasoning and conclusion are incredibly faulty and incorrect. Because your reasoning is based on reading these comics and watching the cartoons and NOT on the content that exists in the source material of the characters origin which is the video games.

Please play the video games. I am on my hands and knees begging you to stop reading these god awful comic books and please for the love of all that is holy, play the video games please.

whenever i see stuff abt "we need more tails and sonic dynamic where they're SIBLINGS!" and it's just them being rude to each other i get so sad. they do NOT talk to each other like that!!

sometimes they tease, yeah, BUT:

sonic knows better than anyone that tails is still a child, that he's been through a lot (and thus has some particularly sensitive spots,) and the usually brusque/brash sonic very clearly adopts a softer tone with his lil bro! he's also willing to slow down and (gasp) take care of himself a little better for tails' sake. we also see he gets pretty protective of him...

he has absolutely no problem indulging tails' interests and needs!! sonic thinks tails is adorable!! sonic thinks tails is incredible!!

and TAILS thinks his brother is the coolest thing in the world!! he wants to emulate and be more like him! so while he's inherited some of sonic's attitude (and he's earned the right to use it) he would NOTTT just. straight up insult sonic to his face, much less mean it. don't forget that tails canonically thinks this blue energy rat is incredibly cool

why would u want to make this relationship into a stereotype? they're not typical brothers, they formed this special unbreakable bond themselves!! its unique! its built off of understanding and perfect synchrony!! fundamentally it is sonic gently taking tails in and showing him kindness for the first time, and tails striving every day to emulate his hero! there's no want, no need, and no room for needless cruelty!

[mintyys-blog]

I love your work, can I request invincible variants x reader who

can break the 4th wall?

HEADCANONS | mark variants with s/o who breaks the 4th wall

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS:

MAIN MARK

“So this is your character development moment,” you say, gesturing at nothing. “Cue the heartfelt speech, and maybe a swell in the soundtrack?”

Mark just blinks at you. “What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

You squint. “Huh. I figured you’d be genre-aware by now. Rookie mistake.”

“There’s… no soundtrack,” he says slowly. “Is this some kind of joke?”

VILTRUMITE MARK

“You’re acting like this is some kind of… story,” he growls.

“It is. You’re the hardened antihero from a tragic empire. I’m the wild card with unexplained powers. The shippers are gonna love this.”

His brows knit together. “What is a shipper?”

You just grin. “Exactly.”

MOHAWK MARK

“This is your edgy arc,” you say, watching him dramatically leap across a rooftop. “Moody. Shirtless. Probably doomed.”

He squints at you. “How the hell do you know what I’m gonna do before I do it?”

“Because I read ahead.”

“Read what ahead?”

You tap your temple. “The script.”

He flips you off and storms away.

SINISTER MARK

“You talk like someone who’s read my thoughts,” he says.

“No, just your Wiki page,” you say cheerfully. “Very dramatic, by the way. Love the angst.”

He goes still. “Wiki?”

“You really don’t remember the Season 2 finale? Oof. Repression is a hell of a coping mechanism.”

“What are you?”

OMNI MARK

“You always start the scene with a threat. It’s your thing,” you sigh. “Then you’ll say something about how I disappoint you.”

“You do,” he snaps.

“Boom. Called it.” You turn toward the empty air. “He’s so predictable. This is why they keep rebooting him.”

“Who are you talking to?” he demands. “What are you looking at? There’s nothing there!”

PRISONER MARK

“You ever wonder if this is all just some script someone’s watching for fun?” you ask, sprawled out beside him.

He flinches. “No… Why would you say that?”

“Because I see them.” You point past the ‘camera.’ “They’re right there. Watching us.”

He backs away, panicked. “Stop. Don’t say that. Don’t look at things that aren’t real.”

SHIESTY MARK

“You think you’re slick,” you grin. “But your arc’s been obvious since Episode 5.”

He pauses mid-sentence. “…What episode?”

“Never mind. Keep monologuing, it makes the edits easier.”

“Edits of what? What are you even talking about?”

You just wink. “You’ll catch up in the finale. Maybe.”

EMPEROR MARK

“Your empire collapses in like… six more chapters,” you say as you sip something that wasn’t in your hand two seconds ago.

He stiffens. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” You glance straight past him. “Quick, zoom in on his eyes. He’s doing the denial stare.”

“There’s no one there,” he says tightly.

“That’s what they all say.”

MASKLESS MARK

“You keep talking like this isn’t real,” he says quietly. “Like we’re… fake.”

“I’m just the self-aware love interest,” you shrug. “You’re the guy the audience cries over when you die tragically.”

His face darkens. “That’s not funny.”

“Tell that to the writers.”

FULL MASK MARK

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you muse, circling him. “Just dramatic body language. Classic.”

He tilts his head slightly.

“You’re the mysterious fan favorite. Enigmatic. Broken. Probably a walking metaphor.”

He doesn’t move. But something in his posture stiffens—like he’s starting to notice how weird you are.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, looking directly at the camera. “He doesn’t know we’re in a scene yet.”

TAG LIST: @onlybatsyy

[ineffablelara]

I don't think enough people are talking about what Carlos said in an interview he gave yesterday, about how Benítez views the more conservative/reactionary cardinals as scared, angry children that just need someone to give them certainty and reassurance, that's why he was so patient and yet firm with Tedesco, he saw a frightened child that needed guidance, that's why he was the best choice to be pope btw, because he saw the people with views that contradict his own not as enemies, but as children he needed to guide, not with arrogance but with mercy, patience and love 🤧

Also, I love Carlos even more for adding this depth to Benítez, a character that's already so amazing got even more interesting after what he said

[hyperfixatedmess873]

In Mockingjay, Katniss’s squad was called squad 451. Like the book Fahrenheit 451°.

Plutarch Heaveansbee, the man who had a huge ass library, and libraries were considered RARE, named them after a book about censorship.

Plutarch is such an interesting character, the fact that he was trying to stop the games for at LEAST 25 years. And he was so devoted it makes you wonder why he even cared.

[abigailspinach]

Read it!!!!! It’s reallly gooooooooooood!!!!!

Maia is a lovely cinnamon of a protagonist doing a very difficult job with the help of the worlds most competent mail man turned secretary (of state almost)

Here…. A podcast episode touching upon The Goblin Emperor and also Jupiter Ascending and Person of Interest

M: Read the book! Get the book from your library!

A: It’s an amazing book.

M: Make your librarian buy five copies—

F: It’s a really good book.

M: —and build a display of nothing but this book!

A: Why would you need any book but this book?

M: Why would you need any book but this book? We talk sometimes about, like, a friendly coffee shop AU type of fantasy… this isn’t quite that, but it’s just so nice?

A: It’s so nice. It’s so good. It’s about, like, nice people being good, and well-meaning, and working hard to do good things in the world even though it’s, like, hard and tricky and they’re surrounded by people who are not as good and kind as they are.

M: But the thing that we have here is this young character who was never meant to be in power, and so has grown up into this kind, thoughtful, humble young man… and suddenly somebody plops a crown on his head and he’s like… WHAT DO? HELP?

F: I think that’s what makes it a very positive narrative is that in another book it might be about him becoming more cynical, and he does become more cynical in that he’s exposed to a wider range of people and motives and, I guess, evil-doing than he has before then, but his own goodness and niceness is such that the fabric of that world bends around him, eventually, and that’s the hieros gamos.

M: To… to me it’s that he is… [pause] His default action is kindness, even to people who don’t, according to those around him, merit his attention. And what we see is this kind of trailing ducklings of, uh, vassals that just sort of form around him and follow him around worshipfully.

A: Yes!

M: And he doesn’t even notice it happening?

A: Yes. YES. [Delighted laughter]

M: And it’s amazing. I just… the writing as well, the character development of every single individual character. You can parse out exactly why they’re doing it and how this noble liege has earned their fealty.

F: You’re right, in that the humbleness of Maia, the main character, is something that makes this an incredibly powerful narrative, but if you think about it from the point of view of the vassals, and the way the book is written you never actually get—correct me if I’m wrong, but—you never actually get inside their heads. You’re only inside Maia’s head, really. But, you… you can tell, as the reader, what is going on in their heads and why they have fallen into this duckling line of supporting him and believing in him, and you can tell that, from their point of view, there is almost an element of noblebright going on, or an element of glory, it’s just not in a way that they’d thought about it before. But they clearly idealize Maia by the end of it. But he himself is so humble, and that’s what makes it a really powerful depiction of this particular trope.

M: But my point is also that it is entirely a satisfying example of a platonic version of this trope.

F: WELLLLLL, I mean, there is some fanfiction that we… [A tries valiantly to restrain her laughter in the background]

M: No, no no, okay, okay, let me clarify myself: it is entirely satisfying, you can then extend it if you so choose. I’m not saying it has to be.

F: Okay, fair.

M: ANYWAY…

[A begins outright cackling]

M: The point is that… STOP CACKLING AT ME, ALEX. I HAVE NOT GOTTEN TO BE INCOHERENT NEARLY AS MUCH AS YOU DO, SO SHOUTING IS NOW.

The Goblin Emperor will teach you how to speak Elvish without you even realizing it because it so gradually introduces words, so halfway through the book you'll be saying shit like "I can't believe the Ethuverazhid Zhas's dachenmaza nohecharis has to commit revethvoran :/" with a straight face

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS x Firefly AU: A ragtag crew.

[kxsagi]

*Pokes my head through your window* Good morning, may I request: Blue Lock boys with a Reader who insists they drink the homemade herbal tea she made first thing in the morning.

Characters: Chigiri, Yukimiya, any other characters you want

Because seriously, why did Chigiri or Yukimiya never consider TCM as an option?

“𝐬𝐢𝐩�� 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫”

a/n: i think yuki, reo, rin, and sae would def be into tea

ft. chigiri hyoma, yukimiya kenyu, mikage reo, karasu tabito, kaiser michael, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

chigiri hyoma

he blinks at the mug like it insulted his entire bloodline. 

“what did you say this was made of again?” 

you cheerfully answer, “dandelions, licorice root, and love!” 

he only heard “dandelions” and “root.” the love part did not save it. 

drinks it like it’s poison and glares at you over the rim the whole time. 

“you know i already have good hair, right? i don’t need... lawn clippings in a cup.” 

he’s so dramatic. clutches his stomach every time like he’s waiting to collapse. 

but refuses to skip a day because you always beam at him like he just cured a disease after finishing the cup. 

he actually does feel a little more energized. but he will never admit that. 

yukimiya kenyu

totally on board at first. skincare king. tea enthusiast. 

“ah, herbal. nice. did you steep it at 80 degrees?” 

you: “i microwaved it.” 

the betrayal in his eyes. 

drinks it anyway and nods politely with the stoicism of a man pretending he likes your cat’s cooking. 

goes full monk about it – sits cross-legged on the couch, sipping in silence, whispering affirmations like “my gut microbiome thanks me.” 

you find out later he’s been sneaking in a drop of honey every morning to make it bearable. 

“you can’t get mad if it still has the benefits.” 

if you try to make a new blend, he gets suspicious. “... what’s in this one?” 

you: “vibes.” 

mikage reo

very chill about it. the first morning you offer it, he drinks it and goes “interesting.” 

you ask what he means and he just says “tastes like nature with a grudge.” 

he drinks it every day but adds a bougie little mint leaf or lemon slice like he’s in a spa. 

insists you sell it as a “detox elixir” and slaps a mikage corp sticker on your tea jars. 

drinks it with his pinky up. 

convinces nagi to try it once and nagi just immediately lies down on the floor and doesn’t move for thirty minutes. 

reo just shrugs and says “it’s an acquired taste. like kale or emotional vulnerability.” 

karasu tabito

makes fun of you. every single time. 

“you’re trying to assassinate me with twigs in hot water. just say you hate me.” 

gags dramatically. slides down walls. wipes imaginary tears. 

but still drinks it. because deep down he’s a little whipped. 

sneaks in a spoonful of sugar when you’re not looking. sometimes three. 

once asked if he could add protein powder to it and you almost kicked him out. 

starts calling it “witch potion” and “swamp smoothie.” 

“ah yes, nothing like drinking a cauldron shot first thing in the morning. love you, babe.” 

kaiser michael

sips it once. pauses. looks at the mug like it personally betrayed him. 

“this is what you give to your enemies, not your boyfriend.” 

you tell him it helps inflammation. he raises an eyebrow and goes, “it’s inflaming my taste buds.” 

complains every single day but shows up like clockwork for his morning mug. 

mutters under his breath in german. probably insulting the tea. probably insulting you too but in a sexy way. 

insists on a dramatic health report each morning: “vital signs stable. vision slightly blurry. taste buds... gone. but still hot.” 

tries to bribe ness to drink it for him one day. you catch him and double the dosage. 

after a week, he starts posting selfies with #herbalhealing like he’s a lifestyle influencer. 

says he hates it but starts sending you pinterest boards titled “tea aesthetic.” 

itoshi rin

stares at the mug like it personally offended his ancestors. 

you: “it’s good for your immune system.” 

rin: “i’m not drinking grass clippings.” 

refuses for three days straight. you finally wear him down by saying it’ll reduce cortisol/stress. 

he drinks it. expression doesn’t change. not one twitch. you ask him how it is. 

“… it’s wet.” 

dramatic sigh. takes another sip like he’s at war. 

“did you brew this in a pond?” 

glares at the mug the whole time he drinks it. like he thinks it'll grow legs and fight him. 

starts researching each ingredient. one day comes home with a list like, “you know licorice root can raise blood pressure, right?” 

he still drinks it daily. never tells you why. 

you catch him once making it himself when you’re not home. you say nothing. he pretends nothing happened. 

itoshi sae

you hand him the mug with a cheerful ��good morning!” and he just stares. 

“why is it the color of swamp water.” 

drinks it anyway. immediately gags like you slipped him poison. 

“is this payback for something i did in a past life?” 

says he’s gonna die every time he drinks it. clutches his throat like a victorian ghost. 

“this is why i don’t eat vegetables. it always leads to this.” 

puts it down dramatically and whispers, “bury me with my cleats.” 

complains for 10 straight minutes, then asks, “… wait, what’s this good for again?” 

next morning: already seated at the table with an empty mug. 

“not saying i believe in your dirt tea, but i didn’t need a nap during my training break today. that’s progress.” 

texts you “bring the juice” every morning like you’re his shady herbal dealer. 

still makes fun of it. calls it “potion of pain.” but you catch him once calling his teammate "weak" for not drinking his girlfriend's tea. 

he’s a silent believer. with attitude. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[hot-patootiee]

Holy shit this got angsty fast.

AIDS crisis, it’s ambiguous if Steve has it or not but no main characters are dead. Mention of funerals.

Steve doesn’t forget to tell Robin he’s queer. He just can’t find the right time to interject that he’s been driving down to Indianapolis to go to gay bars and get laid since 1984.

Steve means well, as even drugged up on the bathroom floor, he was unwilling to expose Robin to his type of raunchy queer indulgences.

When Eddie shows up, Steve stares at the Hanky and wonders if he was just copying other metalheads or flagging in Hawkins. He settles on Eddie doing it on accident as a fashion choice and moves on.

Robin, on the other hand, asks if the rumors of Eddie’s queerness are true and Eddie confirms it after Robin makes it incredibly clear that she is completely safe and a lesbian.

Robin and Eddie become best friends, moaning about their crushes on straight people. Eventually they decide to go to Indianapolis and find a gay bar. Steve is out of town for the week so it’s perfect timing.

Little do they know, they roll up to Steve’s cruising spot, and Steve has his little navy hanky tucked into his back right pocket. He’s grinding up on some guy when they arrive and neither of them notice each other. Steve’s too busy having a guy lick up the side of his neck and Robin and Eddie are busy looking timid as fuck near the entrance.

Robin and Eddie don’t notice Steve until the bartender is yelling “put y’a tits away ‘evie, if you wanna fuck, do it somewhere I don’t have to see!”

Their eyes jolt to the direction the bartender is yelling and there’s Steve, the guy behind him had pushed Steve’s shirt up to his collarbones and was currently brushing over his nipples. Steve rolls his eyes at the bartender, straightening up and letting his shirt fall back over his body. It was still obvious that his hook-up’s hands hadn’t moved.

Eddie chokes and Steve’s eyes whip over to them. He pushes the guy’s hands off his chest, whispering something quietly to him before sauntering towards Eddie and Robin.

“Hey.” Steve says sheepishly.

“Steve, what the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me?” Robin inquires in a whiny tone.

Steve rolls his eyes again, tangling his thumbs in his belt loops.

“There wasn’t exactly a good time where I could tell you I come down here to get the daylights fucked out of me.” Steve replies nonchalantly as if telling Robin the weather.

Robin just makes a series of unintelligible and unholy noises of frustration at this.

“Oh and unless you plan on hitting someone while having sex with them, I’d remove the hanky as you’re probably not actually a sadist.” Steve states plainly, gesturing at Eddie’s pants where the hanky swings from his back pocket.

Eddie hurriedly unfastens the hanky and tucks it fully into his pocket to hide it.

“So what are you two here for? Fun or a hook-up? If you’re looking for a hookup I could pair you guys off with some of my acquaintances.” Robin looks mildly horrified by Steve’s offer, while Eddie looks repulsed. 

“So, not a hookup?” Steve inquires.

“Oh my god, Steve shut up!” Robin squeals.

“Tiffany over there has a mouth like heaven, as I’ve been told by her numerous trysts, Still not interested Robin?” Steve asks, gesturing vaguely to a perfectly coiffed woman with red tinted hair and sun-kissed skin.

Robin got distracted for a second when Tiffany looked at her and winked.

“We just wanted to check the place out, maybe make some conversation.” Robin justified.

“Fuck! I should probably stay with you then. Jack will be disappointed.” Steve says with a pout. “Can’t exactly ditch my friends to get laid.” He grumbles.

Steve waves at the bartender, “Paul, can you send Jack a Long Island, as an apology from me?”

“ ‘Course”

“Steve you don’t-“ Eddie is quickly interrupted.

“Unless you’re planning on fucking me, it’s probably not happening tonight.” Steve said in a blasé tone.“Anyway, maybe go to Paul if you want the whole papa gay spiel. Condoms, gay plauge, and how not to get murdered. Specifically important for you Eddie because men are a lot more likely to try to kill you.” Steve laughs self deprecatingly with an odd tilt to his barking laughter.

“Steve why are you acting like this?” Robin questions sharply.

“The plague is killing the gays, might as well party up while we’re still alive.” Steve pauses, remembering something, his smile slips slightly just for a moment. “There’s a funeral I’m attending tomorrow. So party tonight, party tomorrow to remind us all we’re still alive, visit the ward before going back to Hawkins.” Steve says it with a smile, his eyes shining like he’s high on something and not all quite there.

Robin could suddenly see why Steve was acting like this, it slotted perfectly into her picture of Steve. Steve the monster killer, Steve the human shield, the Steve who tempts death on a yearly basis.

No matter where he went, Steve was on the front lines, getting shot. But now it was like he was dancing in no man’s land, pirouetting around the death and destruction like it was his damn home.

Robin felt a little mad that Steve would seemingly never be able to escape it, by nature of who he was.

Eddie on the other hand, was shocked. His time in a small town had protected him from this. Getting whiskey drunk in the trenches before disease inevitably claims you. Being gay seemed suddenly too large for him, made him want to scurry back into his closet and hide.

But, God, Steve could die without ever knowing how Eddie felt.

“Steve, I think we should leave.” Eddie said firmly, Steve gave him a bewildered look.

“Why?” Eddie responded by tugging the hankey out of Steve’s pocket and hiding it in his jacket, before beginning to drag Steve out of the bar.

“I have to pay my tab, asshole!” Steve tugs back, quickly grabbing his wallet and throwing 30 dollars in the counter before Eddie resumed tugging him out of the bar.

They were hit with cool spring air when they emerged, Eddie taking little time to drag Steve into the alley and push him up against the wall.

Eddie was shaking with rage, but his eyes were full of tears.

“You can’t act like this!” He yells.

“Chill Eddie.”

“You’re not allowed to kill yourself.” Eddie whimpers out.

“I know how the plague spreads, I’m safe, always make the guy wear a condom. Why, you wanna fucking watch to check?”

“But what if one pops, what if you die before..-” Eddie starts shaking harder.

“Before what Eddie?” Steve interrupts, anger lacing his voice.

“BEFORE I CAN TELL YOU IM IN LOVE WITH YOU!” Eddie shouts, tears winding paths down his cheeks.

Steve pauses, anger and tension melting off his frame. He blinks a few times, stunned. Eddie on the other hand is curling into Steve and sobbing, body shaking like a leaf.

Steve curls around Eddie, taking him securely into his arms.

“Oh I’m so sorry.” Steve says in a hushed tone.

“I d’nt wan’ you to d’e!” Eddie struggles out.

Steve looks up and finds Robin and Paul staring at them. Paul nods at him before going back inside.

“Eddie, I’ll get tested and stop coming here to hook up, I still want to see my friends though.”

Eddie nods tearfully at the compromise.

Steve pulls Eddie’s head up and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips.

“It’ll all be okay.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

Plssss continue the another ending story its sooo good plsss😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏

Another Ending - End | B. Barnes

Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.

Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance, comedy.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , End .

You asked, and you shall receive. Thanks, Noonie. This is also a wake-up call for me to finish this.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I published my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It had been a month since they received the data. Life had gone back to normal—well, as normal as it could be. Lori, you, Bucky, and Henry were now living in a new place.

Out of nowhere, Bucky had shown you all his house—a stunning place by the beach. It had floor-to-ceiling glass walls and a garage filled with sports cars.

Lori’s jaw dropped in awe. “I thought you were one of those house-husband types."

“House husband?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t wanna know,” you said, brushing off the comment with a shake of your head.

You turned back to the house, your eyes scanning the sleek architecture. “So this is the payment for being a triple agent?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Bucky chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. “No. This is a gift from my dad—to make up for forgetting my 17th birthday.”

Your eyes widened. “You jerk! You made me pay for all the drinks that time!” You playfully shoved his shoulder.

“You were my supervisor back then,” he said, grinning. “It would’ve been disrespectful to say no.”

Then, his expression softened. He reached for your hand and held it gently. “But now, no more lies. Not with you.”

There was a pause. The wind from the beach brushed through your hair as you looked at him, really looked at him. The sunlight caught the side of his face, and in that moment, he wasn’t a spy or a survivor—just someone who wanted a fresh start, same as you.

Inside the house, Lori watched through the large window, a soft smile on her lips.

“My work here is done,” she whispered dramatically.

Henry, sprawled on the sofa with one arm draped over his eyes, groaned. “Are you done spying on them?”

“This isn’t spying,” Lori said, arms flailing in protest. “It’s observation. As Cupid, I did a fantastic job. Romance is in the air!” She clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to be my aunt’s flower girl.”

Henry scoffed, shifting to sit upright. “I wish life was really that easy—for people like me, your aunt, and Bucky.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, frowning.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We live in shadows, Lori. Danger, secrets... The kind of life you’re picturing? It’s not real for people like us. Most of us live with fear, not freedom.”

Lori’s shoulders sagged. “That’s not fair. But you’ve all quit. You deserve another chance. A new start.”

Henry stared at the floor for a moment. “If it were that simple, I’d have reconciled with my ex, and I’d be living in a house with a white picket fence.” He chuckled bitterly. “Instead, I’m here—still alone.”

After a beat, he turned to her. “By the way, why didn’t you go to school?”

Lori glanced away, suddenly interested in the ceiling. “I’m doing online classes.”

“Uh-huh…” Henry raised an eyebrow.

He tilted his head. “What about your mom? Don’t you miss her?”

“She’s busy. Doing a book tour,” she mumbled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I prefer being here.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

You and Lori were walking down the grocery store aisle, your cart half-filled as the wheels squeaked beneath it. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, and the cold air from the freezer section drifted across your arms.

Lori reached for a bag of chips and glanced around. “Aunty, remember the last time we came to the store? Someone tried to shoot us—and that’s how we met Bucky.”

You shot her a sharp look and whispered, “Don’t say it out loud.” You scanned the other shoppers, your instincts still on edge.

Lori shrugged, unfazed. “Do you think something exciting will happen again?”

You sighed, pushing the cart forward. “Dear God, I hope not.” You handed her the shopping list. “Can you grab half of the things from the list? Start with aisle three.”

“Okay,” she replied cheerfully, skipping off toward the cereal aisle.

Lori reached for a cereal box on the top shelf, tiptoeing to grab it. As she pulled it down, her grip slipped—almost sending the box tumbling in slow motion. But before it could hit the floor, a hand caught it swiftly.

“Thank you,” she said, blinking in surprise.

The man, dressed in a dark coat, gave her a brief nod. “Pozhaluysta,” (*You're welcome) before turning and walking away without another word.

Lori tilted her head, watching his retreating back. Something about him felt... off. She clutched the box tighter and hurried to find you.

You were by the produce section, picking out apples, when Lori came running up.

“Aunty, I just met someone. He helped me with the cereal box. I think he’s a foreigner—maybe Russian?”

Your smile faded. “Russian?” Your stomach turned. A chill ran down your spine.

You grabbed her wrist gently. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

Back home, the tension clung to you like damp air. You unpacked the groceries in silence, glancing over each item as if expecting something to jump out. Then your hands froze.

Taped under the cereal box was a small note. Folded once. Slipped so subtly it could’ve been missed.

You unfolded it with trembling fingers.

“Not fair.” - Written in Russian.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky entered the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing your expression.

Wordlessly, you handed him the note.

His eyes scanned the message. His jaw clenched. “Is that…?”

“I’m not sure,” you whispered. “But I have a bad feeling. That man—he spoke to Lori.”

Bucky exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s not a good sign.”

You stared out the window, heart pounding. “We have to protect her.”

“She won’t like it,” he warned gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You looked back at him, voice firm. “She doesn’t have to like it. She just has to be safe.”

You and Bucky sat Lori down in the living room. The air was heavy with unspoken tension. She tilted her head, curious but cautious.

You took a deep breath. “Lori… I called your mom. She agreed—it’s time for you to go back.”

Lori blinked, her expression frozen for a second. Then her eyes welled with tears. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go. I like it here.”

Your heart cracked at the sight of her trembling lips and glassy eyes. “Sweetheart,” you knelt in front of her, holding her hands gently, “I know it’s hard to understand, but you’re not safe here anymore.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Why? Didn’t you say we were done with the agency? That they wouldn't bother you guys again?”

“We did,” Bucky said quietly, standing nearby with his arms crossed, his jaw tight. “But this isn’t about the agency.”

“Then who?” Lori asked, her voice shaking.

You looked her in the eyes. “Grigory. The weapons dealer. The one from the book you read.”

Lori blinked. “Wait... wasn’t he dead?”

“In the book, yes,” you said softly. “But in real life, there was no body. No confirmation. Just silence.”

Henry, lounging in the corner, added, “His daughter is dead. And that only means one thing—revenge.”

The room fell silent.

Bucky looked down at the floor, jaw clenched. His knuckles were white as he gripped the back of the chair. It was his bullet that ended her life. No one said it, but everyone knew.

You reached out, gently squeezing Bucky’s hand. “It was an order,” you whispered, reminding him—reminding yourself.

That mission had haunted both of you. Sleepless nights. Regret. Silence. The kind of guilt that never left.

Lori wiped her tears and looked at both of you. Her voice was soft but strong. “Then don’t stay stuck in the past. You’ve both punished yourselves long enough.”

Her words pierced straight through you. Bucky looked up in surprise. Even Henry paused, visibly impressed.

“How did you come up with that?” Bucky asked.

“I read a lot of books,” Lori said with a sniff. “Most of the main characters carry trauma. But they learn to live. To move forward.”

She smiled gently. “And destiny always brings people together. If it’s meant for you—it’ll always find a way back to you.”

You choked back a laugh, pulling her into a hug. “Oh, Lori.”

Henry folded his arms with a smirk. “If I’d hired someone like you back in the day, maybe my agents would’ve stuck around longer.”

Bucky leaned over and whispered, “You’re ruining the moment.”

You cupped Lori’s face and looked her in the eyes. “It’s still not safe… but I promise, once this is over—once we’re sure no one is coming after us—we’ll be together again. No more running. No more danger.”

Lori wiped her eyes and nodded slowly. “Fine. But you have to promise we’ll see each other again. Soon.”

The next day, the car was packed and waiting. You walked Lori to the passenger side, holding her hand the whole way.

Bucky stood by the driveway, hands in his jacket pockets.

Before getting in, Lori turned to him. “Will you meet me again?”

He gave her a half-smile. “Of course. We’re besties.”

She giggled, wiping her eyes again. “You better not forget.”

“I won’t,” he said, giving her a small salute.

She climbed into the car, rolled the window down, and waved at Bucky and Henry.

“Bye, guys!”

“Take care, kid,” Henry called, raising his hand.

Bucky gave a short nod and watched the car drive away, silent.

You didn’t say a word as you drove. But your grip on the steering wheel tightened, and your heart quietly promised Lori: This won’t be the end.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The sun dipped low as you drove along the winding highway, mountains casting long shadows over the road. Lori sat quietly beside you, clutching her backpack and watching the trees blur past the window. For the first time since this morning, things seemed calm.

Then you noticed it.

A black SUV, maybe two cars behind. You glanced at the rearview mirror again. Same distance. No change in speed. No attempt to pass.

Your eyes narrowed. You tapped the steering wheel twice—a silent habit whenever your instincts kicked in.

“Aunty?” Lori turned to you.

“Lori, buckle up,” you said calmly.

She frowned but obeyed. “Why?”

You glanced in the mirror once more. The SUV changed lanes as you did. Then another car appeared—one you hadn’t seen before. And then another.

Three. Maybe four.

“They’re following us,” you muttered, your tone low.

“What?” Lori’s voice jumped.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you gripped the wheel tighter and pressed down on the gas.

The engine roared as your car surged forward. Tires screeched behind you.

The first bullet hit your rear windshield. Glass shattered.

Lori screamed and ducked instinctively. You kept driving.

Two black sedans flanked you, forcing you into the center lane. Your heart pounded. The world slowed around you—your training taking over.

You swerved right, clipping one of the cars. It spun out, slamming into the guardrail.

“Hold on!” you shouted, pulling a hard left. Lori screamed again, gripping the handle on the ceiling.

You barreled down a side road, the remaining cars close behind. Another shot whizzed past, barely missing your side mirror.

Lori clutched your arm. “They’re still behind us!”

“I see them.”

A third car pulled alongside. A man leaned out with a rifle.

You jerked the wheel, slamming your car into his before he could fire. He flew off-balance. The car spun and crashed into a ditch.

Two left.

You made it to an overpass, but one of the cars rammed into your bumper hard. You lost control for a second, the car skidding toward the concrete barrier.

Lori screamed as you fought the steering. The tires squealed.

Another shot—this one grazed your shoulder. You hissed, pain shooting down your arm.

Then, from the side—a blur of motion.

Boom!

An explosion rocked the road behind you. One of the chasing cars was suddenly engulfed in fire.

Bucky’s motorcycle tore into view like a beast out of hell, his face hidden behind a dark visor, rifle slung across his back.

He shot the last car’s front tire. It flipped in mid-air and crashed in a storm of metal and sparks.

You tried to slow down, adrenaline crashing hard. But the blood loss…

You blinked. The world tilted.

“Aunty!” Lori grabbed your arm. “You’re bleeding!”

You smiled faintly, your voice thin. “You’re safe…”

Then everything went black.

🏥🏥🏥🏥

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly. You lay in a hospital bed, pale but stable, IV lines in your arm. Sedatives had knocked you out. You needed rest, the doctors said. No major internal injuries, but you’d lost too much blood.

Lori sat beside your bed, her arm wrapped in a light bandage. Just a scratch. Her eyes were red from crying, but she stayed strong.

“She protected me,” she whispered. “She didn’t stop driving.”

Bucky stood by the window, fists clenched, jaw tight. His eyes hadn’t left your still form.

He turned to Henry.

“This was a message,” Bucky said, voice low and seething.

Henry nodded grimly. “It was Grigory’s people.”

“That bastard sent mercs after a kid,” Bucky muttered. His tone was ice-cold. “I'm done waiting.”

“Bucky…” Henry tried to reason.

But Bucky was already walking out the door.

💥💥💥💥💥

A cold wind howled through the isolated forest surrounding the crumbling, once-grand mansion. The estate sat like a rotting carcass on the edge of the wilderness—tall iron gates, stone statues overgrown with ivy, and floodlights illuminating the perimeter.

Dozens of guards patrolled the grounds—heavily armed and alert.

But they started dropping.

One by one.

A suppressed sniper round tore through the silence.

A guard on the rooftop collapsed without a sound.

Another crumpled near the front steps, his rifle clattering to the ground.

Panic began to spread. Shouts in Russian echoed through the comms.

“Sniper! Find the bastard!”

But it was too late. Bucky Barnes was already inside.

He moved like a shadow. Black tactical gear, rifle in hand, knife strapped to his thigh. The Winter Soldier persona—cold, controlled, unstoppable—had returned.

Two guards turned the corner.

Two clean shots. Both down before they could raise their weapons.

He stormed down the hallway, the marble floor stained with footprints and blood. He knew exactly where Grigory would be.

Grigory sat behind an antique desk, a cigar smoldering in a crystal ashtray. His once-refined face now worn, eyes bloodshot, grief having chewed through the edges of his sanity.

When the door slammed open, Grigory didn’t even flinch.

Bucky walked in, gun raised, expression stone-cold.

“Been a long time,” Grigory said with a bitter smirk.

“You look worse than your last Interpol photo,” Bucky said, stepping closer.

Grigory stood slowly, eyes never leaving Bucky’s.

“Why do you get to keep going?” he growled. “Why do you get to live while I’m still haunted by my daughter every goddamn day?”

“If it were anyone else asking me that,” Bucky replied coldly, “I’d say I was sorry.”

He took another step forward.

“But not you.”

Grigory’s eyes darkened. His fists clenched. “You murdered my daughter.”

“No,” Bucky said, voice low. “Your weapons murdered millions. Your daughter was just unlucky enough to have a monster for a father.”

Grigory snapped.

“Suka blyad’!” he cursed in Russian, slamming his fist against the desk. Rage boiled over in his face.

“And you hurt my girlfriend and her niece,” Bucky continued, his finger tightening slightly on the trigger. “That’s my line. You crossed it.”

“I lost everything!” Grigory roared. “You took her from me! You—!”

“You killed her the moment you turned your back on humanity,” Bucky cut him off, voice like ice. “You don’t get to play the victim.”

Grigory’s hand twitched toward the drawer.

Too late.

Bang!

The shot echoed through the study. A perfect center-mass hit.

Grigory staggered back, coughing blood, collapsing into his leather chair—eyes wide, frozen in disbelief.

Bucky stepped closer, looming over him.

“For someone like you, hell follows you wherever you go,” he whispered.

Grigory’s body went limp.

Bucky stood there in the silence, breathing steady, smoke rising from the muzzle of his pistol.

After 7 years, the mission is finally complete.

🏥🏥🏥🏥

Soft sunlight seeped through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the white bedsheets. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the quiet room, steady and calm.

You had just opened your eyes, groggy from the medication but alive — and that was enough.

Lori sat by your side, her small hand wrapped around yours. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw you awake.

“Auntie,” she whispered, teary-eyed. “You scared me.”

You gave her a tired smile, gently brushing your fingers across her cheek. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to.”

Just then, the door opened.

Bucky stepped inside, blood wiped clean, his clothes changed, but the weight of the night still clung to him. When he saw your eyes open, something in him shifted — relief, deep and real.

Behind him, Henry stood near the hallway, quietly speaking to your sister. His usually cold tone softened. Your sister immediately came here when she heard you got admitted to the hospital. 

“Don't let cancer decide how you live your life,” she told him, arms crossed but voice steady. “Just... enjoy the time you’ve got. That’s more than most people get.”

Inside the room, Lori noticed Bucky and grinned.

“Bucky!” she whispered loudly, running over to hug him. He knelt and caught her easily, holding her close.

“Hey, troublemaker,” he said softly. “You did good.”

After a few more minutes, everyone began to leave the room, giving you space to rest. Lori gave you one last hug and whispered, “I’ll be just outside.”

Now, it was just the two of you.

Silence lingered for a moment, comfortable but heavy with things unspoken.

Bucky pulled a chair beside your bed and sat down, resting his arms on his knees. He looked at you — not the way a soldier looks at a survivor, but the way a man looks at something he almost lost.

“I thought I’d lose you,” he said quietly, his voice raw.

You reached for his hand, your fingers brushing his knuckles. “But you didn’t lose me.”

He looked down at your hand in his, holding it a little tighter. “No. But for a moment, I thought I had.”

You exhaled softly, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You’ve been through worse, haven’t you?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. But this felt different. Watching that car chase, hearing your voice on the radio — it wasn’t just a mission. It was you.”

You let the silence hang between you for a moment, then said quietly, “Maybe it’s time we stop living like we’re waiting for the next disaster.”

He met your eyes, tired but clear. “Maybe it’s time to figure out what comes next.”

You studied his face — the faint bruises along his jaw, the fatigue in his eyes, but also the calm. It was new. And it felt real.

“You think we’ve got a shot at this?” you asked, your voice low.

He gave a slight smile. “We’ve been through enough. I don’t know what the future looks like, but I’d rather face it with you than without you.”

You laughed gently, your ribs aching with the motion. “That’s the most un-Bucky romantic line I’ve ever heard.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the edge of your bed. “Don’t get used to it.”

You grinned. “No promises.”

There was a pause. The room felt still, peaceful — like the world had slowed down just enough to let you breathe again.

“So... what now?” you asked.

Bucky gave your hand a light squeeze. “Now we take it slow. One step at a time. No rushing. No running.”

You nodded, the weight on your chest a little lighter. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

And there was no urgency for the first time in a long while. Just the quiet possibility of something new.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

4 Years Later

Lori sat cross-legged on the soft rug in the living room, her little finger trailing under the words of a worn fairytale book. Her voice was animated, each sentence full of wonder.

“And then the princess said, ‘I don’t need a prince to save me — I’ve got dragons to tame!’”

Two twin toddler boys sat across from her, each holding a stuffed toy — one a plush lion, the other a squished airplane with a bent wing. They weren’t talking much yet, just babbling nonsense and giggling at the sound of her voice. But they were listening, eyes wide, fully locked in on the story.

Lori looked up and smiled at them. “You two don’t even know what a dragon is, do you?”

One of the twins drooled onto his lion, the other clapped like she’d just finished a Broadway performance.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. “Guess I’ll have to teach you everything.”

Just then, the front door opened with a soft click, and a familiar voice called out, “We’re home.”

Lori’s eyes lit up as she looked over her shoulder.

You stepped in, shrugging off your coat, Bucky right behind you, holding a paper bag of leftover popcorn and drinks from the cinema. His hair was slightly windblown from the ride home, and he looked as tired as he was amused.

“How’s the movie?” Lori asked, hopping up with more energy than grace.

Bucky scoffed, tossing the bag onto the table. “Tsk. Five out of ten. Who the hell played my character?”

You grinned as you started pulling off your shoes. “He said that after I mentioned the actor was handsome.”

Lori gasped. “You said that in front of Uncle Bucky?”

You winked. “I like to keep him humble.”

The twins toddled toward Bucky, one holding out the bent-wing airplane. Bucky scooped them up easily, one in each arm, like it was second nature. They squealed, delighted, calling him “Buck-buck” in their half-formed baby language.

Lori’s attention shifted to the entryway table, where you had placed a single white rose in a thin glass vase. She stepped closer, her eyes softening.

“That’s…”

You nodded, voice quiet. “Yeah… visited him.”

Before the movie, you and Bucky had stopped by the cemetery — Henry’s grave. The moment had been quiet, no need for words. Just the two of you, standing there with a white rose and a shared memory.

After finding out that Henry had cancer, it brought the three of you closer. You traveled, shared laughter, arguments, stories, and pain. And six months later, Henry passed, surrounded by the only people who had truly seen him for who he was.

On his deathbed, he said, “No regrets. Not anymore. Not when you’re here.”

At the funeral, Lori cried harder than anyone. Losing Henry brought back every memory of her own father. The grief hit her like a storm. But you never left her side.

And when you asked her to be your flower girl for the wedding, something shifted. The sparkle returned. The stories returned. So did her laughter.

And now, four years later, you and Bucky had built something real. It hadn’t been easy — nothing worth keeping ever is. But you weren’t stuck in the past anymore. You’d fought for this life, and somehow, against all odds, you’d made it yours.

You sat down beside Lori, brushing her hair behind her ear as the twins giggled in the background.

“You were right,” you said softly.

She blinked. “About what?”

You smiled. “Romance is alive.”

She grinned, her nose scrunching in that familiar way. “Told you.”

Bucky stepped behind you, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. The sunlight pouring through the window made the room feel like a moment suspended in time — warm, safe, and finally, yours.

My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing are on Kindle. Check it out!

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[yvesssssssss]

Hey hey, I already read yout writing about Nagumo and the other character, may I request head canon with the trio gaku, Nagumo and uzuki x fem reader headcanon

About suddenly giving them a kiss and then run away 👀

Giving them a kiss and running away

Nagumo yoichi

You catch him completely off guard in the middle of a conversation. One second he’s talking about some stupid prank he pulled, the next you lean in, kiss him on the cheek, and sprint away like it’s life or death.

“Huh? Wait—hey, where ya goin’!?”

He stands there stunned for a second… then breaks into a grin. “That was cute.”

Immediately takes off after you, but not seriously. He’s laughing as he jogs lazily after you, clearly enjoying the chase more than anything else.

The next time you see him, he casually pins you to the wall and whispers, “You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to run. I’m all yours.”

Teases you about it for days, calling it your “great escape” or “kiss-and-run mission.”

Gaku

He's in the middle of cleaning a weapon, all focused and serious. You give him a quick kiss and bolt before he even fully registers what just happened.

He blinks. Freezes. Slowly lowers the blade in his hands like, Did that just happen?

Doesn’t chase you—but you feel his gaze following you like a heat-seeking missile. You can practically feel the smirk he's holding back.

When he sees you again, he steps behind you so quietly it’s terrifying. Leans in to murmur, “That was dangerous, you know. Getting my heart racing like that.”

Gives zero warning and returns the kiss twice as long. Smirks when you’re the one flustered this time.

“Next time, run faster. I might just catch you.”

Uzuki kei

You do it without thinking, and for a moment, there’s silence. His body goes completely still after the kiss.

Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just watches you as you run, face unreadable.

You’re halfway across the hall when you hear him say your name in that quiet, unsettling tone. “...Interesting.”

Doesn’t chase you—but somehow manages to corner you later with zero sound or warning. Appears behind you like a shadow.

“You kissed me and ran,” he says, voice calm but eyes burning with curiosity. “Why? What are you trying to make me feel?”

You swear he’s analyzing your every micro-expression, trying to understand it like a puzzle.

Then, so suddenly it makes your heart skip—he cups your face and kisses you back. Gentle, slow, intensely intimate.

“Next time, don’t run. I won’t let you.”