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malleux · 4 years ago

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spell [2]. | corpse husband

part one ; part three

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

-> Warnings: Hate Comments, Self Doubt, Anxiety, Cursing

-> A/N: thank you for 1k notes on part one! i’m so glad everyone likes my work. it’s really nice getting this much love after taking a hiatus on my fire emblem writing blog. i hope y’all enjoy it and stay on the lookout for part three!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since you joined Sean’s Among Us stream.

While that was your first public appearance, you had joined three others after that and already you were blowing up on almost every social media platform you had. The attention was kind of nice, you had to admit, but sometimes the anxiety of becoming a public figure weighed heavily on your shoulders.

During that time, you turned to your friends who were used to such scrutiny: Sean, Felix, and now Corpse, who you’ve been talking to every day for those two weeks.

It was another one of those nights where, at 1am, you were on Facetime with said man. His screen was dark, as usual. He hadn’t shown his face yet and you respected that. You didn’t need to see him to talk to him, or be his friend, or develop a slight crush on him. All of which you did.

The call was relatively silent on your end. Corpse was on Facetime with you, yes, but he was also on a call in Discord, once again playing Among Us.

You often wondered if playing that game was all your new friends did anymore.

You stayed quiet, letting Corpse play the game and avoiding his fans finding out about your call. You had college work to finish anyways, so the silence was rather helpful.

“We should ask Y/N if she wants to play. I wanna meet her.” Sykkuno’s voice rang out from the Discord call. He was right- you’d never met him. He and Corpse seemed extremely close, though, so you’d love to talk to him. A friend of your crush friend was a friend of yours.

“She’s busy tonight.” Corpse responded.

“Yeah, she’s got an exam coming up- wait, how do you know?” Sean joined in, questioning Corpse.

“Uh, I mean we’re on Facetime right now, I guess.” Your heart sped up- now his fans knew. “She’s studying. We’re just hanging out.”

“Didn’t you guys ‘hang out’ last night as well? It seems like you’re trying to take my best friend away from me.” Sean joked back.

“I mean, I definitely am.”

Your breath caught in your throat. What was that supposed to mean? Sean was obviously kidding, but the tone in Corpse’s voice wasn’t the one he used when he was joking as well.

Felix suddenly butted in. “Ooooh, I think Corpse-y has a little crush.”

“And if I do?”

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

꧁꧂

Three weeks, now, that you’ve been talking to Corpse daily.

One week since Corpse’s crush comment and one week that you’ve endured countless mentions and tags on Instagram and Twitter, constantly talking about #CorpseY/N.

You didn’t really mind the shipping, often losing yourself in daydreams about driving those two hours down from your apartment in Los Angeles down to San Diego and running into his arms. It didn’t help when he mentioned wanting you to come visit one day.

You just worried about how Corpse felt about them. He was still relatively new to blowing up on the internet as well, his fame suddenly skyrocketing in the past few months, so you weren’t sure if he was comfortable with them. You didn’t want to bring it up, either, fearing that the discussion would make things awkward between the two of you.

For now, you were rather content with just scrolling through the #CorpseY/N hashtag, looking at the pictures and nice things people had to say about you both.

“they’re so cute when they talk to each other, you can just tell Corpse meant it when he said he was trying to steal Y/N away.”

“#CorpseY/N is my new favorite thing. Everyone shut up this is all I’ll be talking about from now on.”

“God why can’t they just be together already? #CorpseY/N”

Everyone was so supportive and sweet, it almost made you feel like you already were Corpse’s girlfriend. Although your heart hurt when you were brought back to reality, you couldn’t help but love the comments that everyone left. They were amazing.

Until they weren’t.

There are always two sides of the same coin. Along from the supporters and their loving actions, there were also those who seethed at the idea of you and Corpse.

They scrutinized everything about you to the point that you made your Instagram account- already with 30k followers- private.

Haters talked about you. Your body, your personality, how you weren’t worthy to even talk to Corpse and the rest of the Youtubers, and so much more. You’ve spent many nights with your Facetime mic muted so that Corpse couldn’t hear the small sobs coming from you.

These thoughts were almost always on the back of your mind, but you were sometimes able to push them away.

Like now- as you focused on your exam. Well, tried to focus. There comes to be a time where one can only hear so many negative things about themselves before they can’t ignore it anymore.

But alas, you tried your hardest and finished your exam, before walking out of the room and pulling out your phone. Now, you had a break before your new classes started and you’ve never been more relieved. You pulled up a certain contact and clicked on the message icon, beginning to type.

you:

i’m finished! up next, a break.

corpse:

I hope you did well. How long is your break?

you:

two weeks!

corpse:

Come spend it in San Diego

You stopped in your tracks, taken aback by the offer. You really didn’t think that he’d invite you over, but you weren’t about to complain. Instead, you sent back an ‘I’ll pack tonight :)’ and rushed home to do just that.

Corpse called you as you packed, just like he calls every night. You were used to the routine now, often falling asleep around 3am as he stays on the phone, doing whatever he does with his ruined sleep schedule until you wake up and say good morning.

Tonight, however, you were too jittery to sleep. You stayed up all night with Corpse, talking about anything and everything, like usual.

What wasn’t usual, though, was how distracted he sounded. It made you nervous- was he having second thoughts about inviting you over? Was something wrong?

Your thoughts nearly overwhelmed you, forcing you to say something.

“Are you okay, Corpse?” You tried to hide the small shake in your voice.

“Hm? Uh, yeah, yeah, everything’s good. Why?”

“It doesn’t sound like it. What’s going on? You’re acting off.”

His side of the phone was silent for a moment, before he let out a sigh. “I’m just thinking about what I’ve got to do before you get here tomorrow. Like, cleaning and stuff.”

“Pshh, that doesn’t matter to me.” You waved your hand, even though he couldn’t see it in the darkness of your room.

“It’s just that, my apartment isn’t… the best. It’s small and there’s only one bedroom and it’s kind of shitty. I just don’t want it to be even more shitty.”

“Corpse, I’m coming there to spend time with you, not your apartment. I don’t care what any of that shit looks like. I’m going to be looking at you and hanging out with you. Not your apartment.” You didn’t mean to go on a tangent of reassurance, but you truly meant all of your words. “Hell, I might not even see the apartment because I already know I won’t be able to look away from you.”

“I- God, give me a minute. That took me off guard.” He laughed. “But thank you. I may not even be able to clean because I’ll be distracted too.”

“By what?”

“You, standing in front of me, in person.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s a fucking dream come true.”

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

taglist: @namjoons-crabssss @lookingforaplacetosleep @teenloves @princess00wifi @pillowjj @nvm-idgaf @creativedogs @wildflowerwhore @chillininahottub-withaghost @whyisquill @holosexualunicorn7000 @ourheavenlyemotions

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#fanfiction #x reader #fic blog #writing #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband #series #lay writes #youtubers #youtubers x reader

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thesevro · 4 years ago

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Do you have any headcanons about sex in the kitchen with Nanami? Does he prefer doing it in bed or anywhere really? 🤤

𝖓𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖎 𝖐𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 800 words

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: explicit smut, voyeurism, gojo being a little shit (a bit of a sad one)

A/N: since i got childe on genshin and i’m a lover of procrastination and our exams literally start tomorrow :D

also pls co-op with me i’m bored and rhodeia is a lovable but hard-ass bitch p.s. i’m officially off the semi-hiatus i set for myself but never announced here on tumblr good morning

It’s loud for three a.m. on a Saturday at Jujutsu Tech.

Gojo’s precious little students are sound asleep (or so he thinks, and hopes), tucked into their beds with the little plushie talismans he sets by their bedsides and takes in the morning before they wake up. He’d said goodbye to Yaga earlier, even followed the man out the gates to the school that afternoon and ranted about how Nobara could sometimes be as fierce as a rabid pack of hyenas and how much he now believes Yuji likes it.

He’d seen you and Nanami off earlier before the two of you had set off on a mission. He had expected the both of you to return and give your reports the following day. Which it technically was. But… to discover that you were both performing smexy times, as he would coin it, right at the school? Well. You must have done something to tantalize Nanami. You were often the epitome of sweet little temptations.

“Goodness, right on the kitchen counter,” Gojo says under his breath, absolutely scandalized. He watches as Nanami wipes blood from your forehead. The blonde’s broad back is turned to him. Gojo can see the vague impression of a soft smile on your face. You look so happy to be with Nanami. It makes Gojo want to squeal in delight for his bestie.

But you sit on the counter, with Nanami’s hips much too close to your own for what Gojo would describe as appropriate at the workplace. Every time Nanami shifts in place, something in your expression goes tight and the furrow between your brows deepens. The edge of Nanami’s belt hangs at his hips.

It had clicked in an instant for Gojo. Really though, he has no idea why he hasn’t left yet. He knows that a normal person would have left you and Nanami alone to your… godless antics, but the milieu that surrounds the personal bubble you share with Nanami tugs his curiosity back to you.

It is as if a feeling of secure domesticity cradles you and Nanami in its arms. It is a fragile thing. But it exists between two people who go and fight monsters every day. Beasts. Curses. Things that can take yours or Nanami’s life in an instant. Yet he feels not a shred of that fear, even from outside the kitchen. It puts many musings in Gojo’s head.

Nanami leans down to meet your mouth with his. His pelvis thrusts forward and your lips part into the kiss. You moan into his mouth and Gojo closes his eyes, simultaneously arches his brows, and proceeds to walk away with his hands over his ears.

Through the crack in the door, you see Gojo’s baby blues disappear. You nudge Nanami’s nose with the tip of your own.

“He’s gone,” you whisper with a laugh. Nanami’s mouth leaves yours and twists downward. He still appears irked. You rub a thumb over the corner of his lips.

“I still don’t like that he got to see you like that.” His cheekbones flex as he clenches his jaw. “Could have seen your pretty hole, lovely.”

“It was one thrust, baby,” you reassure him. “Give me a few more? Need to cum again.”

He chuckles, cooing, “Needy, huh. You already wet my pants and the counter.”

“You only have yourself to blame,” you say back, wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing your face to grow lax with bliss as he begins to rut into you.

He grunts out, “Says the one who thought it would be a good idea to fight a curse in lingerie.”

“You know you liked it,” you counter, settling your face into his neck. He was right about it being a partly bad idea, however. Your extra set of clothes had gotten ripped in the process and you’d had to hide in a filthy public restroom for fifteen minutes in the coital equivalent of underwear while he bought you new clothes. You still remember the roaches.

“You owe me three, darling,” he says. “Two more. Two more.”

“Ah, fuck.” You bite your lip before a moan can escape, pulling part of his button-up off his shoulder to wildly sink your teeth into his skin. You feel his cock jump inside you and dig your teeth in harder as he pounds into you with animalistic desperation.

“Make sure he doesn’t see you like this,” Nanami says in a firm voice, letting you loosen your jaw before yanking your head from the junction between his neck and shoulder. “Or I’ll fuck you on my goddamn desk next time.”

His next words are a jolt to your core, “Filthy slut.”

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento x reader smut #nanami kento x reader fluff #nanami kento smut #jjk smut #nanami x gojo #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #nanami kento icon #nanami kento icons #nanami kento x reader headcanons #nanami kento hcs #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru icons

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lore-o-hoe · 3 years ago

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Episode: 190 Giant Post Extravaganza!!!

So things went DOWN in the last two pre-hiatus episodes. And if my predictions are correct, things are going to take a turn for the WORSE.

⚠️As always SPOILERS BELOW so read at your own risk⚠️

———————————///——————————

- So first off we have my new crush Eris basically stating that she pulled an Ella Enchanted and gave Persephone a curse in the form of a ‘gift’ and credits Persephone’s sense of purpose and ambition to this gift.

- Oh of course Asspollo to the rescue, he really has the need to be at the center of everything huh? But since this is ERIS wooo boy I don’t think she’s gonna forget that.

- Also is it just me or is this arrow feeling a little forshadowy? Like of course I can’t see into the future, but this kinda feels like it’s going somewhere.

- Y-AS GIRL HIT HIM AGAIN F’CK HIM UPPPPP

- Oh god Eros and Heras faces, the worry is so palatable

- THE KINGS SON???? Wait why am I gasping I already knew that.

- Hera’s FACE oh god, I can’t wait for the next half of the season cause you KNOW it’s already some mess

- But honestly as this chapter goes on, it’s allowing me to cement more gods/goddesses to be Team Persephone when this shit hits the fan.

- For someone who values his power and throne so much, you’d think he’d quit banging his way through the world/cosmos. Red from Overly Sarcastic Productions said it best “Just bag it up if ruling the cosmos means so much to you.” Also he’s a shitty dad to his sons (that we’ve seen) and they’re the ones most likely to overthrow him. HELLO? ZEUS? Man that brain must not be braining 🤷‍♀️

- Nip this in the bud??? Oh god Zeus what are you doin????

- OKAY THIS FR ISN’T FAIR

- How is that supposed to WORK??? Aphrodite is right, a lot of gods have jobs/functions in either realm so how is this all supposed to work???

- Poor Persephone, and god look at Hades in the final panel!!! Y’ALL

————————————///

Okay so it’s time for the too long analysis section:

Okay so things have gone COMPLETELY off the rails but I’ve got some thots sooooo….

A common theme with our favorite goddess is stress. The stress of her trauma, the stress of her actions of wrath, etc. I can’t imagine being the sole goddess running things (in terms of Demeters role) will do anything to help this.

Though don’t think that Zeus is getting off scot free here- like I’ve said time and time again, avoiding destiny is often how you end up finding it.

Much like his father, he’s taken drastic actions to circumvent a prophecy he will likely bring about in one way or another. But he’s crossed multiple gods and goddesses by doing this. Namely his wife, Demeter, and obviously Persephone and Hades.

In a partial sense we’ve seen that Persephone’s powers are somewhat tied to her emotions. Hell her act of wrath sprung from grief, anger, anxiety, etc. She has been forbidden to seeing two important people in her life. Hades and Demeter. Her friend Daphne has become a tree and gone into hibernation thanks to the actions of Apollo and in general her life has once again spun out. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw an act of wrath part two here.

Also lets get to the messy reveal of Apollos parentage, it seems like Zeus genuinely didn’t know that Artemis and Apollo where his children despite the obvious resemblance (Two purple powerful children spring up from an old fling and he doesn’t question it??).

But that is all to say that he’s becoming like his father, so scared of losing power and their place that they take drastic and cruel measures to keep the top spot but at what cost? You would think that he would put two and two together and figure out that his fathers downfall was caused more by his treatment of his children than anything else. Could his usurpation have happened anyway? Certainly. But making your super-powerful children hate you might speed things up.

And just like his father, he is using cruelty to stave off a similar rebellion without realizing the pattern that’s clearly happening here. And what’s more is he’s got his sons who already have a rocky relationship with him, and one son that’s actively gunning for his throne.

I think that this pressure has been mounting since he realized what Persephone was and went further in Episodes 186 and 187 when Ares had a convo with him and explained his theory regarding why Zeus has a vested interest in making an example of her. As Ares points out, if she was just a less powerful B-grade goddess like Zeus would have others believe, what purpose would this whole circus of a trial serve? No there’s a vested interest in keeping her away from powerful gods (namely Hades and his (Zeus’)own sons). As Ares points out, should Hades decide to pair with Persephone and take him down, there’s very little he could likely do about that. Hades is technically the firstborn son of Kronos, which would make the world and leadership of the gods his birthright, if he so chose. I won’t say that birth order has an effect on power, but its still important to note birthright.

Despite this, it’s sad that Zeus has such little faith in his brother, to the point of causing him such emotional pain on the off chance he’d one day rise against him. While Ares dismisses Hades being the one to rising against him, I haven’t counted out that possibility given the conclusion of the trial. Zeus is failing to learn the lessons of history and will end up paying the price for it.

So lets talk about Hades:

Hades has made it very clear where he stands in terms of Zeus, while he loves his brother, he’ s made it abundantly clear he’s not scared of railing against him especially on behalf of the love he and Persephone share. And Hades is smart, he knows that this sentence is excessive and (with the parentage revelation) an act of desperation rather than a punishment for Persephone’s act.

While he clearly loves his brothers to certain extent, he’s clearly had problems with Zeus in the past, being given the farthest loneliest kingdom despite wishing to not be alone, getting between him and Hera, and now practically forbidding contact with someone who genuinely loves him and in return he loves just as much? Things are getting SERIOUS folks.

I think that we’ll see a very fractured Olympus next time around. While gods are forbidden to interact with Persephone, that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t work on her behalf, this trial was unbalanced and one sided as all hell and most in attendance have their own gripes with Zeus. I mean LOOK at Hera’s face, I can’t count her firmly on Zeus’ side.

With yet another embarrassing scandal that’s been exposed, and since day one she’s had a vested interest in helping Persephone (and subconsciously guiding her away from what Hera has become with her marriage to Zeus). Ares is up for conflict (and he loves his dear momma so), and no doubt that Hades and maybe even Hecate will not stand for something like this.

All in all it’s hard to predict exactly what’s going to go down next season, but no doubt it’s going to get crazy with the fallout of this trial.

—————///————-

Final Remarks:

As y’all know this is the last LO episode while Rachel takes a WELL deserved 4 month long break. But fret not! There’s so many theories, characters, and predictions for the future that the fandom is really hopping. So at least we have each other through the hiatus! ✨

#lore olympus #lo persephone #my post #lo apollo #lore olympus theory #lo theory #lo hades #lore olympus hades #lore olympus persephone #lore olympus spoilers #lore olympus artemis #Lore Olympus episode 190 #LO Episode 190 #hades lore olympus #lo spoilers

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a-lil-perspective · 4 years ago

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70 Encouragements/Tips For The Writer:

A/N: Rules don’t exist. These are real and personal and stem from a deteriorating, exhausted Writer who is here to tell you (and herself) that you are amazing and keep going. I hope you find some encouragement within.

Your mental health comes first and foremost.

Indulge and embrace your creative writing pieces when they come (and when they don’t). Especially when they don’t.

Suffering from Writer’s Block or fluctuating hyperfixation? Me too. So is your favorite author. Welcome to the Writer’s Block Party (all my uwus if you see the pun).

Did you spend five hours on this one segment, forget the last time you ate, develop chapped lips, dry eyes, and a stiff back (time to get up and move), bang your head on the wall, laugh, cry, fidget, take your ADHD meds, deviate to watch YouTube, have an epiphany, curse in frustration and wonder why the hell you do this to yourself? Congratulations, you’re a Writer.

Embrace all the not-so-glamorous sides of writing, and accept the fact they’re going to happen time over again.

When you say “just one more line” and it’s 2:00 AM, I’ll be here to remind you to “go to sleep” (because I’m also depriving myself lol).

Actually, sleeping helps your mind feel refreshed, and it’s good for your health. If you’re struggling with a particular segment, one of the best things you can do is just put a cap on it for the time being, put in a placeholder, and get some shut eye. I know you don’t want to. But you will feel so much better and have more clarity and energy to continue when you wake. Trust me.

More often than not, those words you “just didn’t write down fast enough and now forgot” end up revealing themselves to you later in a much more profound way. Give the words time to get ready. They’re just spiffing up before coming to visit. :)

Be proud of yourself and your prose. Writing is an amazing part of who you are.

That trope has been written 1000 times before? Make it 1001.

You’ve already written this scenario? Write it again.

You’ve just written a single sentence. Now sit back for moment and think: you just wrote something brand new, never before seen. Nobody out there will ever write that sentence or formulate those thoughts the exact same way. You are a unique, mind-blowing, awe-inspiring human being.

Bask in the excitement that comes with a completed piece. Reflect on what you learned throughout and celebrate the little victories.

Don’t be afraid to ask for feedback, but also understand that you might not always get it, and that is OK.

Please re-read your work. Be gentle with yourself. You had to write that very first piece to get to where you are now. Love the process.

Your personal writing success is not based off of kudos or likes or reblogs.

There is no right or wrong way to write.

There is no such thing as “good” writing.

Improvement is becoming of everyone so get comfy, strap in. The journey of a Writer is a lifelong one. Here’s to many more works ahead.

Don’t mourn the words you did or didn’t write. Celebrate the ones you will.

One day, you’ll read a piece that will blow you away—and it will be yours.

There is nothing “shameful” about reblogging your own writing works.

I promise you’ll find your “wow” piece—either in something you’ve already written, or something yet to come.

Baby. Please don’t write out of spite. You’re better than that.

You are just as valid/deserving as the next Writer. And you do belong.

If you feel sad/unworthy when sharing your works or interacting with others’, get to the root of why. Writing should be fun, rewarding, and relaxing. Not shameful, embarrassing, or a chore.

Writing (fanfiction, specifically) is labeled as “transformative works”. Self-explanatory, right? However, if you notice the transformative part begin to have a personal effect on you—a negative one—it’s time to take a step back.

Right now, I can name a single quality you possess: diligence. How do I know? Because you’re a Writer, and the two go hand-in-hand.

Got that single scene in your head but you haven’t completed or even began all the chapters preceding? Bruh. Jot that down right now. You don’t need 20k words beforehand.

Embrace your writing mood swings. The stray, sweet and condensed blurbie. The ideal, bridging drabble. The solid, substantial oneshot. The hefty, elaborate 10k word chapter. Appreciate everything in-between, and that you are capable of all of it.

Nobody remembers that extra word or typo or stray speech mark back all the way back in chapter 3. Tell the little monster in your head to go to hell.

You’re not a weirdo for making facial expressions and mulling through your dialogue aloud. You. Are. A. Writer.

It’s OK if the Readers can’t always see exactly what you envisioned in your head, or the full extent of the picture you painted. We all see colors differently.

Don’t be afraid to experiment with your writing.

In fact, challenge yourself to dabble into a new plot/trope/concept every day, even if only for a few minutes. You may discover you love writing it.

There’s no rush to finish/begin any written work. If you take your time, you will make your mark. You’re not falling behind or running late. Slow down and wait for it. :)

Three cheers for hiatus.

Listen to your body and mind, know your limits and when it’s time to take a break.

Actually take a break. :)

If you feel like you’re falling stagnant in creativity, looking to/revisiting other forms of creative media can help encourage the flow.

Ask for encouragement, and be at peace with asking.

Take shelter in fellow writers. Uplift each other always.

You are/will be someone’s favorite author. :)

You don’t have anything to prove. You have something to share.

Someone is thinking about your work right now.

Someone started a series because they drew inspiration from you.

Personal writing style can reflect a lot on the state of one’s mental health. Try to always be attentive to that of your own.

Self-validation must be cultivated early on or nothing will ever work.

Freestyle every once in a while. Write a snippet, timed, and go—without editing. Write the first thing that comes to mind and go from there. Do it all the way through the set time. When it stops, you’ll find yourself unable to. 3,800 words here we come. :)

Not everything needs an outline. :)

It is completely normal to write your story out of order.

Create guidelines for yourself. If they aren’t working, toss ‘em.

Word vomiting can help you feel better (it’s just how it sounds). By clearing all those jumbled thoughts and scattered concepts, you achieve a clearer objective. Try it sometime.

A rough draft is supposed to be rough.

Sometimes the words come to you quicker than others. Be patient. That is merely the construct of a Writer’s mind. You’re a beautiful enigma.

A sentence written is a story progressing.

Writing is an endurance sport. You must pace yourself and exercise it daily.

You are still a Writer even when the words aren’t on the actual page.

You’re not obligated to a writing/posting schedule.

As you progress in your journey and gain more awareness, don’t sacrifice your style. Those beginning works are what define you. Hold onto them and don’t ever let them go.

You’re the only one cringing—

Remember that sometimes words are elusive and you don’t always have control over them, and that is OK. Sometimes they write themselves. Sometimes your characters come to life and break out into dance across your page. Dance with them. You can wrangle them back when the music stops. :)

There is nothing condemning or embarrassing about asking for a beta. Allow someone to help carry the load.

Allow people to cheer you on—even if they don’t read your work.

It’s OK if your writing style isn’t someone else’s preference.

Be your biggest cheerleader. Sometimes you are all you have.

You don’t need anyone’s approval except your own.

You love that trope/concept/story you just wrote? That’s all that matters. The end.

You will never write good. You will write you. And that is good.

Above all else: remember to write for you.🤍

#writers #fanfiction writers #writing encouragement #writer appreciation #writer support #writer struggles #writing motivation #writers tips #for writers #omg am I struggling.#hope these help you beautiful people #my writing #it’s a lil thing

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uni-seahorse-572 · 2 years ago

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my heart a fool and yours laid bare (part 3)

*comes back after an accidental month-long hiatus with starbucks the final part of a fic I meant to finish months ago*

they love each other soooo much your honor. anyway this is half angst, half terrible metaphors, and all unedited! enjoy.

also, read on ao3! taglist (aka those who are cursed to deal with my tomfoolery): @song-tam @gay-otlc @xanadausaus @synonymroll648 (lmk if you'd like to be added / removed!)

“Fitz has a point,” Sophie says quietly. Keefe turns, frown etched across his features, the whole world distant: like something seen through the window. He gets the odd sense that he’d like to paint it, the way everything stretches out around him, compress it to still, 2D shapes to match the syrupy slowness with which his head is spinning. He can’t comprehend anything well enough; he thinks he’d like a week or two to catch back up and relearn how to think. “You are kind of an asshole.”

He flinches. Before she’d spoken, he’d forgotten she was there at all. His vision had narrowed to Fitz’s vanishing back and the terrifying lack of his emotions thrumming between them. “I didn’t…” Keefe starts, then stops, falling into silence. Where did he even go wrong?

Fitz is in love with Sophie. Sophie is in love with Fitz. Both of those things are apparent to anyone who knows them. It doesn’t even take being an Empath. Keefe had thought his efforts to get them together were, if not a totally flawless display of matchmaking, a selfless endeavor rooted entirely in his desire to make his best friend happy. After all, none of this had been for him. He knew and knows too well that Fitz will leave him someday. Fundamentally, Fitz is the good one, the golden one, and inevitably he was going to wake up and realize that one day. This mission of Keefe’s had only served to advance that date further, but of course it would always be too soon, so at least he had meant to make up for all the times he’d been a burden by virtue of who he was. That’s what Keefe does: he’s the screw-up, the one who can’t help but bring the world crashing down around everyone foolish enough to get close to him’s ears no matter how well-intentioned he is.

And now he’s done it again. Typical.

Amidst the swirling chaos in his mind, Keefe can’t figure out what to voice, so he settles on, “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, you really don’t.” Sophie’s sigh errs a little too close to Lady Gisela’s. It’s the same one his mother always makes when she’s internally bemoaning the fact that she’s cursed to have a son who can’t do anything right. At least it’s kinder than Lord Cassius’s. “Look, this isn’t my damn problem. I’d just recommend the two of you work it out sooner rather than later.” Her face softens. “The two of you have something special. I’d hate to see this be the breaking point.”

Keefe watches her go, too. He shakes his head hard, like if he does it violently enough he’ll set it to rights again and things will resume making sense. There are few things he could ever say he knows for certain, but this is one: it was always going to end like this. Melodramatic, that, yet true regardless. He’d figured he had more time. At least solitude is familiar. He’s not the kind of person who can make anyone stick around.

Around him, the party still sways together, Yasmin Hadi being dipped on the dancefloor by a boy he vaguely recognizes. She’s grinning, beaded bracelet glinting proudly around her wrist. The crowds around her share the same subtle jubilance. Keefe wishes he could say he’s happy at least today will end well for someone, for everyone he didn’t sink his cursed claws into, but he isn’t. He wishes, too, that he could scream out this ache onto the universe or that it might let him return to an hour ago.

Wishes, his father would say, are the currency of fools and useless dreamers.

Alongside Empathy often develops a skill at reading emotions merely from the face and body language. This is a well-known fact, particularly when regarding those the Empath in question has used their ability on before. Slowly, associations build between what the ability and what the eyes pick up, resulting in an uncanny perception.

As such, Lady Merewyn knows the moment Keefe steps foot into his session that something is wrong, and not only because he’s on time for once in his life. He can see that knowledge on her face, too, and he wonders why Empathy must always feel like a curse rather than a gift. Who ever figured being doomed to know too much could ever end well?

“Is the cataclysm upon us so soon? It isn’t like you to be so early.” Lady Merewyn says wryly, though she gives him no time to respond to the friendly jibe before descending into that dark, dark realm of seriousness. “Keefe, whatever’s going on… is it something I can help with?”

He rolls his eyes resolutely, dropping down across from her into his usual bean bag. “Just a spat with a friend is all. Don’t worry about it. We can get on with learning about, uh…” Wracking his brain about today’s lessons plans, Keefe’s unsurprised to find nothing in there about his Empathy sessions at all—he supposes that no teacher could ever make him truly care about schoolwork. “The, um, thing.”

Lady Merewyn chuckles, seemingly despite herself. “I think ‘the thing’ can wait another couple of days. Whatever’s going on, though, it’s not a ‘just’ if you’re this upset about it.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to the Empath,” she says sagely. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but I want you to know I’m giving you the chance now if you want it.”

Keefe stews in silence, engaging in a furious staring match with one of the posters on the wall with its ironically adorable alligator cartoon and idiotic ‘positive message’. He wonders who’d win in a battle of quiet. He could refuse to speak at all for the rest of class, and what could she even do about it? She couldn’t make him talk about anything. He isn’t even convinced she’d go all out to stop him if he decided to just walk out the door right now. Quiet is easier.

Besides, how’s he even supposed to tell anyone else the whole, ugly story when he hardly understands what happened himself?

The minutes tick by. Lady Merewyn can be obstinate when she wants to be. The weight of her gaze prickles against his forehead. He taps against the floor, one-two one-two, and hates that the simple motion reminds him of Fitz. The last thing he wants to do is unload his shit on anyone else. Besides, what’s pushing away one more person now?

Yet the stillness eats at him. It troubles his insides and brings the memories rushing back in, of what Fitz’s love felt like pressed against his shoulder or cradled in their joined hands, of the echo of his voice fracturing with furious hurt. It makes him think, again and again and again, what am I missing?

“Do you ever think,” he starts, slow and careful, “that Sir Richard was right about Empaths?”

Lady Merewyn starts at the question. Her brows march steadily towards each other, curving into curiosity left unvoiced. “I can’t say that I have. Touch is important to most elves’ wellbeing, after all.”

“It’s not about that. It’s not about me.” His voice rises in steady frustration, directed intense at his mentor. His fists curl where they rest atop his lap. Keefe can feel their half-moon indentations in his palm. “What if Empathy does more harm than good?”

This quiets her yet longer, the gravity of the situation evidently clear, and each passing second pushes him closer towards clawing out of his own skin. There’s too much in him to settle easily, the heartbreak bearing heavy down and all he asks is to know whether he really does have only himself to blame.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” She sighs, and the irritation wells up in him again. “Knowing other’s emotions as intimately as we do can certainly create a lot of problems. But if we’re able to train ourselves to control the amount of attention we pay to our ability, there are certainly times when Empaths serve in incredibly important capacities.”

Wrong answer. Keefe needs a yes or no. Is what he can do worth it? Is he worth it? Everything he has ever known or been has made things worse. That can’t be worth it. This isn’t a complicated question; he can divide it easily into black and white. If Sir Richard was right all along… what does that make these last few years of his life? And what does that say about his relationship with Fitz, the one person he’d broken all the rules with? Fitz is the one truly good thing Keefe has. The only thing worse than losing him now would be the knowledge that the two of them never should have existed at all.

“Please tell me,” Lady Merewyn says, firm and slow, somewhere between invitation and instruction, “what happened.” Fire shines behind her eyes. He wonders, idly, what she thinks the answer will be. What she’d do if she was right.

Keefe holds onto his silence. Quiet, for him, is a strange beast. His thoughts have a habit of tumbling off his tongue whether he wants them to or not. He could run his mouth without stopping in an empty room, to someone who isn’t even listening, like his father’s stone wall facade or his mother’s distracted noises of vague disapproval—like she assumes that whatever he’s saying, she doesn’t need to hear it to know it’s not something she’d appreciate. Secret-keeping is a shot in the dark in the best of times, covered up by nonsensical prattle because he can’t keep completely silent. Keefe wrestles with his tongue, the effort of not speaking a battle in his mind, as he stares Lady Merewyn down and tries to figure out how long it’ll be before she gives up.

Everything he wants to say burbles up to the top of his mind. Buried feelings and hidden fears, lined up in the kind of eloquent phrasing he never actually manages to say, the kind of sentences that might just make someone understand. Keefe can play out how he thinks that conversation would go in his head. He can imagine Lady Merewyn or whatever supporting character his brain decides to supply magically knowing how to say the perfect reassurances, the right explanations, knowing how to make everything fall into place. The problem is he wants to. Keefe wants to so badly, to try and untangle what’s trapped within him, but even as the words teeter on cliff’s edge he bites his tongue.

The pain there is sharp. Instant. But it serves its purpose, a cruel reminder. Keefe has to be careful, even here, because the way things play out in his head is a fairytale. Reality would never be half so kind.

In the end, he starts with, “I messed up,” because that’s familiar territory, well-tread ground. It’s probably been years since he could say that sentence and have it be a lie. He twists his lips to one side, heart turning sour. “Bad. I don’t know what went wrong. I tried to help my friend, because of something I figured out through Empathy. Instead I kinda-sorta ruined everything.”

Lady Merewyn doesn’t react, a remarkable feat. He’ll have to ask her for a masterclass sometime. “I can see how that might cause an issue. Keefe… whatever your intentions were, it’s rarely a good idea to act on what your Empathy tells you. It doesn’t give the whole story. And, even with those you’re closest with, I’m afraid it can be a major violation of privacy. That kind of interference is too likely to be off the mark and easily goes too far. Maybe, whatever you thought you figured out, you were wrong.” The lecture lands a little too close to their first session together, the one on ethics. The one on respecting boundaries and approved Empathy uses. Keefe flinches, guilt trickling down from the crown of his head from having disregarded a rule among the most basic of his mentor’s teachings.

“I know that now,” he says, bitterly. Too late, anyway. Why’d anyone even bother to lay out groundrules for his ability? They should’ve known Keefe Sencen has never met a barrier he won’t break through. Especially when he really, really shouldn’t. “But what do I do?”

“To repair the relationship?” She shrugs, as though the answer’s simple. Not like he can carry out simple instructions anyway. “You apologize. You tell the truth. You find out if they’re willing to forgive, and if not, you respect their wishes.”

Keefe wants to say he isn’t sure what truths he has to tell. He wants to say there’s no point in asking if Fitz can forgive him, because he can’t, because they all know that this time Keefe has crossed a line he didn’t even know was there. He wants to say that he’s not even sure that’s a wish he’d be capable of respecting, because what is Keefe without Fitz? What’s a troublemaker without a golden boy, a screw-up without a prodigy, a reckless fool without an anchor?

What he says is “Okay.”

When Keefe reaches Everglen, he’s not the only one there; Sophie bumps into him on her way back through the glowing gates.

“Hi,” she says, voice a hair shy of fully flat. This is lucky, he supposes. He does have to apologize to her too. This conversation seems easier than the one ahead of him, at least. And after all, judging by the way she stands, arms crossed and weight resting fully to one side as she settles to standing just far enough away that it’s awkward, Sophie’s still upset too.

Her emotions wave through the air, tugging at the edges of his awareness. Keefe ignores them. “Look,” he starts, words too rushed and crashing together. He can’t look her in the eyes. He doesn’t think he’d like what he’d see there. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake, though I’m not entirely sure what it was. I took all of that way too far.”

“Yeah, you did.” Sophie’s tone runs him straight through. Without meaning to, he can feel the sour twist to the air, the rhythms of her frustration. “Did you even bother to consider what I thought?”

Keefe shakes his head. He hadn’t bothered to really puzzle through if the attraction was mutual on Sophie’s side. He’d just assumed. It had seemed obvious, at the time. Fitz liked her, and who didn’t like Fitz? Fitz has always been so easy to love. Easy when you don’t know him, the Wonderboy reigning over all of Foxfire, yet even easier when you do.

Sophie laughs. It’s not a happy sound. Instead it rings discordant between them, nearing eerie. “I had a feeling. For the record, I’m not interested in Fitz. I never was.”

“I’m sorry,” Keefe repeats, because it’s the best he has. He shifts his gaze upwards again. Her stare pins him down, assessing and dissecting him, accompanied only by the tapping of her fingers against her thigh through the long silence.

“Don’t worry about it. Just never mess around with my nonexistent love life again.” Sophie smiles a crescent moon sliver like a peace offering, finally holding her home crystal up to the light and shimmering away.

Once she’s gone, he breathes a little lighter again, the pressure clamped tight around his chest loosening.

If only this next part wasn’t going to be yet worse.

It’s by no means a short walk from the Everglen gates to Fitz’s bedroom, but at the same time it doesn’t prove long enough for Keefe to figure out what he wants to say. What’s the truth here, anyway? That Fitz was probably right when he called him an asshole? Somehow admitting as much seems an insufficient apology.

Over the course of his life, Keefe can admit he hasn’t apologized to people often. At least not willingly. Most of the people he might’ve said one to don’t matter to him enough to deserve one, and he can be obstinate when he needs to be. He’s mastered the art of gritting his jaw when one of his parents or mentors attempts to prod him into half-hearted remorse. Even with Fitz, all those other times before when Keefe had stuck his foot in his mouth or landed them both in hot water for a prank gone wrong, he rarely voiced any guilt—instead choosing to play it off as a joke or the like. Keefe possesses little experience in this arena.

The hallways of Everglen are blessedly empty, as per usual. For such a massive home, so few people live here that swathes of rooms always remain unused for months at a time (not that he can claim any better, coming from Candleshade, though there every resident generally wants nothing more than to entirely avoid being forced to endure one another’s presence).

By the time he knocks on the door, Keefe’s worked himself into spiral after spiral. It leaves him antsy.

“Go away, Biana,” Fitz calls from within. “I’m trying to focus.”

“Not Biana,” Keefe says, deciding that’s as good of an invitation as he’s going to get. He pushes the door open and steps inside, only hesitating momentarily on the threshold. “Biana wouldn’t have knocked.”

Fitz’s eyes shift, doe-wide, his entire posture stiffening like a glowstick cracking back into place. He sits at his desk, the light streaming through the open window to rest along the tops of his bookshelves and the wind stirring his papers. Various school supplies surround him; ink smudges litter his hands and one even clings to his forehead. It’s an achingly familiar sight, calling to mind thousands of days like it: the distinct feeling that they have been here before and will be again.

Hollow, he asks, “What are you doing here?”

Keefe doesn’t step forward. He figures, this way, with one hand still resting on the doorframe, Fitz can tell him to leave when things go sideways. “Can’t I stop by to visit a friend?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he catalogs Fitz’s wince. It’s strange, the slight motion not being accompanied by a wave of emotions. Fitz’s face shutters, every trace of feeling vanishing quick as swiping lines drawn in sand back into smoothness. “I’m not doing this right now.”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Keefe blurts out. “I am, okay? I know I made a mistake. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Right,” Fitz scoffs. “You ‘didn’t mean it’. Keefe, you can’t do something that—that cruel and expect me to forgive you if you just waltz in here with a skeleton apology.”

The words don’t hurt so much as confound. Keefe can’t puzzle out their meaning. “What are you talking about? I wanted you to be happy. That’s all.”

“If you thought that would make me happy, then you don’t know me at all.” Fitz drops his gaze back to the papers on his desk. It’s final, his expression, the hard set of his face as he returns determinedly to filling lined pages with slanted scrawl.

Internally, Keefe runs through what he knows again. His best friend is furious at him. Sophie’s upset, too, because she hadn’t liked Fitz. What if that held true for both sides? What if Keefe had misread the situation, and now he’s ruined the most important friendship in his life through being too pushy in a plan only meant to make Fitz happy?

That almost makes sense. He can’t tell why it doesn’t.

Keefe steps forward, slowly, watching how Fitz’s shoulders rise up around his ears at his approach. This is a mistake, but that’s never stopped him before. He reaches out, fingertips brushing against the side of Fitz’s arms, and the faint contact gives way to feelings flooding forth.

The first he can pick out is hurt. It drips icy and sharp across his own insides. It swirls in the space around the two of them, choking out the air. There are few of Fitz’s emotions that Keefe isn’t fully familiar with, but this is one. Keefe has sensed it maybe twice before. He can’t begin to guess at what to do in the face of it. It’s his fault. Who else’s would it be? It’s always his fault. His hands aren’t made for holding something gently. His head wasn’t built for letting things go right. He doesn’t know what to do with every trace of goodness he gets close to, and for so long Fitz has been a blinding light against the dark. He makes Keefe feel whole.

Fitz whips out of his chair, stumbling backwards into his desk. “Stop acting like nothing’s changed. Things have changed, okay? I don’t know how else you expected this to end.”

“Not like this. I promise I just wanted to help you.” Keefe drags his fingers through his hair, offering up one of his patented smiles, tinged around the edges with thick smudges of exhaustion. “I swear I’m trying, but I don’t know what to do if I don’t even know what’s wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me like this,” Fitz whispers.

“I wasn’t,” Keefe protests automatically. He’s operating on smoke and guesses, facing his best friend without even knowing the source of the pain flickering behind his words. He digs deeper into what he’d managed to sense of Fitz’s emotions, pushing through the hurt to what’s underneath. His leg flicks out—just enough to brush against Fitz’s—and that’s all he needs to confirm it. The love’s still there, the same as he’d noticed before, drenched with syrupy bitterness that bleeds sour through the both of them. Fitz is in love with someone, but it’s not Sophie. Keefe had misread the situation. No wonder Fitz had been increasingly uncomfortable with each successive matchmaking attempt, though that still didn’t explain the depths of his present anger… And who else could it even be? Who else was Fitz close to, close enough to have that strong and easy bond? Who else could inspire such feelings of affection in Foxfire’s golden boy? Who else did Fitz seek out half as often, smile at a quarter as much, and who else won his rare, precious laughs?

“No. No, you don’t get to do this, okay?” Fitz’s voice rises unsteady in volume, fracturing down the center and wobbling at the edges. It spills over with warm, wet fury. He advances, with Keefe stepping backwards automatically in response, movements jerky in his shock. “Look, I’m sorry about my stupid feelings. Is that what you want me to say? I’m so fucking sorry you’ve had to deal with that all these years, but you crossed a line. You crossed every line. Was it funny, at least? To pretend you didn’t know what you were doing, to try and fix me, your poor little broken best friend and laugh on the inside because all along you knew?”

And all Keefe can think is oh. It makes a terrible kind of sense. All along—could Fitz have really…?

It doesn’t seem right. Yet the love Keefe sensed had been there before Sophie. Yet when it comes down to it, there’s no one closer to Fitz than Keefe. There’s no one else who Fitz’s mask comes completely off around with just one word or raised eyebrow. Keefe swallows hard. “I didn’t…”

There’s no sign that Fitz registers his pitiful deflection except for the further tightening of his jaw, the way he always holds back hurt. “You’re an Empath,” he snaps. “Of course you did. Of course you knew. And I tried, alright? I tried. I tried not to inconvenience you with how I felt about you, tried to get rid of how I felt every way I knew how. Maybe it just wasn’t enough for you, but I swear I tried.”

If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s clear now.

Fitz is in love with Keefe. Wherein he’s Keefe, wherein his best friend has been in love with him this whole time. Wherein Keefe’s ruined everything. Just like always. And even now that he knows the truth, he doesn’t know how to fix this.

Right. Fix this. Keefe needs to make this okay again. That’s all he can think of. He refuses to lose Fitz, not after everything. Certainly not like this.

When Fitz is angry like he is now, when everything he’s kept inside rises to the surface, it takes a lot to settle him. And all the while things in his head, Keefe knows, will only get worse and worse, an endless spiral leading him down and down as Fitz’s shame rises and his rationality deserts him yet further.

There’s only one answer, now that Keefe’s thought about it that way.

Without pausing to overthink it, or really to think it at all, in the first place, he leans forward. He kisses his best friend in the entire world—the best friend who’s apparently been in love with him without him knowing—and it’s warm, strange. Sweet.

By the time Keefe pulls away, Fitz has been stunned into silence, staring at him with a strange, raw wonder. It’s so desperately different from how closed-off he was merely a moment ago.

Like always, Keefe’s tongue moves faster than his brain. His words tumble out in a tangled jumble before he’s bothered to grapple with the revelations of the last few minutes. “I didn’t know, Fitz. I promise you I didn’t know, and I don’t know how, but I thought you liked Sophie. And I was sure that the only way I could repay you for having to deal with me all these years was making sure you were happy. I realize now that it was a mistake. Because I’m in love with you, too. I just didn’t know that either, but now that I do, I think everything’s making a whole lot more sense.”

“What?” Fitz’s voice comes out small and fragile as a baby bird, and Keefe knows now more than ever how easily he could break this moment, shatter the both of them more completely than could be repaired.

Keefe takes his hand, holding it as softly as he knows how. Fitz is there tucked next to his own heart once more, his feelings flowing gentle through where their skin meets, and then they’re there again—the two of them. And it’s like being young again. It’s like asking Fitz to be his person, all those years ago, something new blossoming between them, flowers made out of glass. “I’m sorry,” Keefe says. Those are the two best words he can offer. They always taste unfamiliar on his tongue, usually confined to the rhythm of his heartbeat rather than spoken aloud.

Fitz inhales shuddery and slow. “Please don’t be.” The way he looks at Keefe, it’s like he’s afraid hell disappear.

Sweet, cool wonder hums through their hands, Fitz’s emotions warm and heady as always, and that awe’s familiar—hauntingly so. Keefe recognizes it as the same awe that floods him when the light hits Fitz’s face just right, when they stay up into the night with hushed words landing alight in the darkness. He recognizes it now. Fitz carries an angel’s glow in his bones. Whatever he is it’s better than this world deserves, far more than someone like Keefe should ever be allowed to touch, luminescent. As long as Keefe has the honor of his presence e means to cling to Fitz as tightly as he can.

And that’s the strange thing. Why would Fitz feel that wonder too? Keefe has always been the lucky one between them. Sometimes he figures it’s only their friendship that makes him worth something.

“I can’t believe you never realized,” Fitz whispers.

“I guess I can be a bit of an idiot sometimes.” Keefe shakes his head, squeezing Fitz’s hand tighter in his own. He tries to memorize the contours of his fingers, every line on his palm. Sophie told him, once, that some humans believe those lines tell the future, but all Keefe can find in Fitz’s is a map towards home. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow. If you let me.”

His eyes warm, fond, Fitz leans forward on his toes and presses a faint kiss to Keefe’s forehead. “I don’t need any of that. I just need you.”

Heat fills Keefe from his toes to his head, flames flickering gentle against the inside of his skin. A strange lightness bobs in his mind, the faintness he associates with forgetting to drink water. His knees buckle. Fitz catches him, hands curling around his elbows, and then tugs him over to sit on his bed.

Keefe sighs. The world slows. This is the most right he’s ever felt in his own self. “I wish I’d known sooner.”

“Yeah,” Fitz says, “me too.”

His arm curls tighter around Keefe, and Keefe leans into his side. It’s new and it’s familiar, both at once, and—finally—Keefe knows they’re exactly on the same page.

#keefitz #kotlc #ari writes #ari can words #fitz vacker #keefe sencen #sophie foster #i think that's it? maybe??#been a minute

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ofstarsandvibranium · 4 years ago

Text

Rectify: Part 3

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

As requested by anonymous: It would be awesome if you could make a tfatws Bucky fic or series where the reader is on the list for his making amends because the winter soldier did something to her or someone she loves, and once he gets close to her in some way he ends up falling for her and it’s really angsty but a happy ending !!

A/N: FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER SPOILERS AHEAD!!! also, NO TAGLIST WILL BE AVAILBLE.

A/N2: this is a little hard. there's some violence, angst, and bucky has an anxiety attack.

Part 1 Part 2

"P-Please! We don't have them! We destroyed them!" the man suffering under the Soldier's hold rasped out. The man's own hands trying to rip the metal arm off his neck. The Soldier turned the man around, putting him in a chokehold. The man stared into the frightened, weeping wife. There was a snap and the man fell limp.

The woman across the room cried harder as the Soldier marched over to her. She looked up into his emotionless eyes, "Why are you doing? We don't have anything any more! Just tell them we don't have them!"

The Soldier pulled out his silencer and stared deep into the woman's eyes. He pointed the gun at her and spoke clearly, "Hail Hydra." he pulled the trigger and the women fell onto the floor, a splatter of blood smearing down the wall. He pocketed his gun and took another look at the woman, but her face changed.

It was you.

Bucky gasped as he shot up from his place on the floor. It was still dark, but the tv illuminated the room. Bucky was panting, a sheen of sweat covering his care torso.

He ran his vibranium arm through his cropped hair, trying to catch his breath. He swiped up his phone from the floor and mindlessly dialed your number. It rang a few seconds before you answered with a rasped voice, "Bucky?"

He mentally cursed, not even thinking about how you'd be asleep right now.

"Bucky? Is everything okay?"

He gulped and rasped out, "Yeah. Sorry I woke you."

"Was it a nightmare?"

It had been three months since you first met and started talking. Bucky had told you once that he still gets plagued with nightmares, recollections of his time...contracting. He told you that he goes to therapy, but he doesn't think it helps him that much.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" your voice a little bit more clear now.

Yes. "No, it's okay. I'll let you go back to sleep." I'm sorry. It's my fault. I killed your parents. It's my fault.

"Are you sure?"

No. "I'm sure. I'll talk to you later, Y/N."

"Okay, Bucky. Remember that I'm here for you and I care about you okay?"

You shouldn't. "Okay."

"Good night."

"Night." he ends the call and let's his hands fall from his hand and clatter onto the wooden floor.

Bucky started feeling this heaviness in his chest, it was starting to become hard to breath. His tears started to water and he let out a whimper.

He's messed up so much. In the past months he's gotten to know you, become your friend, it made it increasingly hard to tell you the truth. He couldn't stop himself from being drawn to you. You weren't just a name on a list. He couldn't believe he tried to resort you to something so simple when you were anything but. But because of that, he's now put into a difficult situation and no matter what, someone's going to end up getting hurt.

__________________________

Bucky's been distant and you're not sure why. For the past two weeks you've hardly seen him or heard from him. You're curious if something happen, but, because you're such a caring person, you left him messages letting him know that you hope he's doing okay and that you're there for him.

It's after two weeks of silence that you see him again.

He approaches you at the cemetery Sunday afternoon when you're seeing your parents.

He's wearing the black leather jacket that you see him wear often. He wears a hoodie underneath it, and the hood is drawn up. Despite the gorgeous weather out, he looks like he has his own personal rain cloud looming over him.

You shoot up and meet him halfway, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug, "Bucky! Oh my gosh! It's so good to see you! I was so worried!"

You pull back to look at him and he looks so solemn, "Bucky," you breath out his name, "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry for disappearing like that. I've-I've just been having a rough few weeks."

"It's okay, Bucky. I understand. Given the things you've gone through, it's understandable that you might go through these things." you put your hand on his arm and squeeze, "But it's okay. You're here now." you then slip your hand into his and pull him towards your parents' plot, "C'mon. Sit with me."

You feel Bucky hesitate and you shoot him a warm smile, "It's okay."

Alarms are going off in Bucky's head as he follows you to your set up.

You should tell her now! You can't keep prolonging it! You just have to accept the consequences of your actions! His and yours!

But he doesn't listen.

No. Not today. I'll tell her. I promise. Just....let me have this with her. One last time.

So that's what he does. He doesn't talk much, letting you do all the talking. You update him on the things that he missed during his two week hiatus. He'd occasionally ask questions for clarity, but other than that he just sat there relishing in your presence and the joy you radiate.

He munches on the snacks you share with him, giving you nods of understanding and gratefulness. There's a moment, after you've both eaten all of the food that a silence washes over you two. It's not an awkward one. It's light and comfortable. For a moment, Bucky feels one hundred percent at peace. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. There's a slight breeze that cancels out the heat the sun provides.

He's looking up at the sky and smiles.

He freezes when he feels warmth press to his cheek. It's not the sun, no. It's your lips. But is there a difference?

He gulps and looks at you when you pull away. You suddenly look really shy, looking down and avoiding his gaze, "Sorry. I don't-I shouldn't have done that."

Just let me have this moment....before I ruin it all.

"Y/N?" Bucky calls out your name and you look up. He suddenly leans over and cups your face with his hands and his lips are on yours. You're shocked for about a second, but then you fall into the kiss. You grip the lapels of Bucky's jacket and you pull him closer. You two end up falling, you backwards and him forwards.

"Oomf!" you say against his lips and he pulls away with a chuckle, "Sorry," he replies in a low murmur.

You softly smile up at him as his face hovers over yours, "It's okay." You two stay in the position, eyes wandering over each other's face, until you speak up again, "I really like you, Bucky."

Then the air changes.

His eyes harden and he climbs off of you and onto your feet, "I'm sorry."

You clamber into a stand, confusion written all over your face, "Wait, Bucky. I'm sor-"

"I have to go." he stuffs his hands into pockets and he's walking away, leaving you alone, too shocked to comprehend what exactly just happened.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #fatws #fatws spoilers #falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier spoilers

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nothingbutimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Everything You Want (Peter Parker)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, lots of fluff and cliches

Summary: When Y/n breaks up with her ex, she declares to her friends that she will never, by any means, fall in love again. To her surprise, Peter seems to take this as a challenge, trying to win her heart in a mere afternoon.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: I was on a bit of an unexpected hiatus, but I am here to stay. School and quarantine was kicking my ass and my family is moving halfway across the country so things have been very hectic around here. But, with Falcon and the Winter Solider and me rewatching all the Marvel movies to cope with this wack ass time, I am feeling inspired.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

“That’s it!” You slammed your lunch tray down on the cafeteria table as you huffed and sat down beside MJ. “I’m done with men. I hate love. I’m over it.”

MJ looked over at you and sighed, rolling her eyes. She didn’t believe you, especially since the boy you’d broken up with was the boy you dated not even a week after swearing off men the last time.

“What are you talking about?” Ned asked before receiving a swift kick from MJ.

“Don’t ask about it.” The girl replied through gritted teeth as she fully turned on the bench to face you. “Y/n, you know I love you, but I can’t help but think you’re being a little rash.”

“Rash?” You scoffed. “You wanna talk about rash? MJ, you broke up with Ethan Brooks in eighth grade because he accidentally stepped on your foot at the winter formal.”

“I know you’re just being harsh because you’re heartbroken, but let’s be real, Y/n, you don’t hate love.”

“Yes, yes I do. I’m never, ever, ever going to fall in love. I’m not even going to think about it. I now will live in a world of tragedy and heartbreak because love does not exist.”

You stabbed your fork into your mac and cheese aggressively. Maybe MJ was right, you thought, you might have been being a little harsh and you were very heartbroken.

You had the unfortunate curse of being a romantic, loving the idea of love and anything having to do with a good rom-com. You couldn’t help but fall in love with everyone you’d ever had a romantic moment with. You just loved the experience that came with being in love.

However, now sitting heartbroken and eating your feelings in mac and cheese, you really really didn’t like the idea of falling in love and would have rather fallen off the face of the earth than like another boy.

MJ sighed heavily, reading your body language and knowing you wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and watch a sad movie.

“Y/n, I know you’re sad, but look on the bright side, you have more time to hang out with us. We’re going to the movies after school today.”

You looked between your three friends, smiling shyly. “Thanks, guys, but I really just feel like being alone.”

“Oh, come on, Y/n.” Peter sighed, giving you a nudge with his foot. “I know you secretly want to pig out on popcorn and see that new horror movie.”

“I don’t think so, Peter. I really don’t feel good.”

Peter pouted, giving you puppy dog eyes. “Please, Bug, come on. You blew me off last week to go out with Brad and we’re best friends. You owe me one.”

“I thought we were best friends.” Ned spoke up, earning another swift kick from Peter. “Ow! What is with you guys and abusing me?”

You smiled, rolling your eyes at your friends. Especially at Peter, who seemed serious enough to use the only face you couldn’t resist and a nickname that always seemed to keep your attention on him.

“I’ll think about it.” You caved, taking another bite of your food.

“Don’t think. Just say yes.”

“Are you seriously going to be pushy right now, Parker?” You raised a brow at him. “I am heartbroken. Sick with sadness.”

“I’m just saying, the best way to get over someone-”

“Is to get under someone.” Ned stated proudly, cutting Peter off.

“Ew, no!” Peter gave Ned a light shove. “I was going to say that the best way to get over someone is to be around people who care about you.”

“Or burning his personal belongings before he asks for them back.” MJ added, stealing a fork full of your mac and cheese. “We could always burn Brad’s stuff and roast marshmallows over it.”

“I like MJ’s idea way better than going to the movies.” You agreed, pointing to the girl beside you while you locked eyes with Peter.

“We’re not going to burn his stuff!” Peter exclaimed as MJ frowned. “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to burn someone else’s property and we already made plans to go to the movie.”

“Well, damn.” You frowned. “Now look who’s being harsh.”

MJ began to chuckle beside you as Peter began to frown.

“Harsh would be me forcing you to go to the movie.”

“Oh yeah, and badgering me to go isn’t forcing me right, Peter?” You raised a brow at him as you finished the last of your meal.

“At least I’m asking and not physically forcing you to go.”

“That is true.” You shrugged. “I guess I’ll come, but if I am having a terrible time, you have to take me home.”

“Always.” Peter smiled, nodding as he reached forward and grabbed your hand. “It’ll be fun, Bug. I swear.”

You shrugged, squeezing the boy’s hand as the bell rang loudly. You pulled away quickly, catching a glance at your now ex-boyfriend and the girl attached to his arm as he walked past your table. You cleared your throat, corralling your things together as you rose from your spot on the bench.

“I’ll-I’ll, uh, see you guys later. I’ve got to get to Chem. I can’t be late again or I’ll get a detention.” You stammered, feeling the tears prick at your eyes as you pulled your books in your arms.

“Let me walk with you.” Peter offered, noticing the sudden change in your mood as he rose from his seat and rounded the table to where you stood. “I have to get to Bio next door anyway.”

You nodded silently, surprised when you felt Peter’s hand press lightly against the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd in silence.

“You know, Bug, it’s okay to say things aren’t okay.” He finally said as you made it into the outer corridor of the cafeteria.

You bit your lip at his words, holding back the tears as you glanced over at him so he could finally see your eyes and cheeks red with pent up feelings.

“I’m fine.” You choked out, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat.

Peter pulled you aside, out of the way of the walking students. His eyes, you could see as he rested his hands on your shoulders and forced you to look at him, were full of concern.

“I know you’re not. You want to talk about it?”

You couldn’t help it, the warmth and care in his brown eyes caused your tears to begin to fall as your hand shot up to wipe them quickly.

“You must think I’m pathetic.” You laughed uncomfortably as you spoke, “I’m crying over some stupid boy and you have to watch.”

Peter shook his head, his expression clearly showing the confusion in his mind as he looked at you.

He never found you pathetic nor would he ever. On the contrary, he found you to be the most amazing person he’d had ever known, and not just because you were best friends. Watching you cry, he realized something he’d never wanted to take a good hard look at.

You were the girl he’d always wanted to be with and you’d always kept him on the sidelines. You were everything he’d ever wanted and yet you always kept him as the best friend, the shoulder to cry on, the boy who often kept you afloat.

For a girl so in love with romance and cliches, you’d never realized how much of a walking cliche the two of you were.

Not that Peter was upset. He would never be upset by that, especially when you still allowed for him to be so close by your side.

“Oh, Y/n.” He pulled you into a hug after giving you a moment to clean yourself up. “I would never think you were pathetic. You’re the best person I know.”

You sniffed, bringing your arms around him to embrace him back before pulling away and looking up at him.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” He gave you a shy smile as he glanced down at you.

Your eyes traveled from gazing into his and looking to the spot on his shirt that you had now stained with tears and mascara.

“Even if I stained your nice white shirt with my make up?”

Peter pulled away, looking down at the shoulder of his shirt as he tugged at it to see the stain better. He sighed, chuckling lightly as he looked at you with a smile as warm as the look in his eyes.

“I have other shirts. I didn’t really like this one, anyway.”

“Peter, that’s your favorite one.”

Peter shrugged, letting go of the fabric between his fingers as he looked at you, wiping away the last remaining tear that clung to your cheekbone. “I’ll just have to find a new favorite then.”

You swallowed a bit, your hand reaching up and resting on his wrist as you smiled shyly, sudden feeling nervous.

“I should probably get to class.” You said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Peter’s hand fell from your face quickly as he became aware of the new energy between you two.

“Yeah, yeah.” He cleared his throat harshly. “I should get going too.”

You nodded, allowing for silence to fall between you two as you quickly rushed to class, giving him a small wave before walking into the classroom.

The rest of the day felt uneventful and monotone with spurts of sadness and confusion here and there. You could feel the heartache of your breakup settle in every once in a while, especially in moments in which you let your mind wander while watching your ex-boyfriend now flirt with the girl beside him.

When your mind wasn’t wandering with thoughts of pain and heartbreak, it was full of thoughts of Peter and the moment you shared in the hallway.

It wasn’t that you’d never had a moment like that with Peter before, you’d had plenty of moments in which he comforted you while you were upset and visa versa. You were best friends, of course you’d have your fair share of comforting moments, such as the time when you spent a week at Peter’s house after his uncle passed away.

However, while you sat in class with your pen between your lips as you watched and counted down the minutes to the bell ringing, you couldn’t shake the feeling that that moment in the hallway meant something more to you.

As the bell finally rang, you practically ran out of the classroom and into the hall, only to run into the person you were looking for.

You feel backwards and onto the floor, slightly shocked by your bottom hitting the ground as Peter’s hand shot out towards you as he bent over.

“Shit, Y/n, you okay?” He asked as you grabbed his hand and allowed for him to help you up.

You dusted yourself off before picking up your bag. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What were you running for?”

“I was, uh, looking for you. We’re supposed to go to a movie, right?”

Peter nodded, starting to walk towards the front entrance of the school, his hands shoved into his pockets as you walked closely beside him.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked after the silence between you felt too heavy for him to bear.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I don’t know how I could really feel better while having to see my newly ex flirt with another girl not even 24 hours after our breakup.”

“I’m sorry, Bug.”

“It’s not your fault.” You shrugged, kicking a rock that sat on the sidewalk in front of you. “He can do what he wants. He’s a single man now.”

“I wouldn’t call him much of a man.” Peter admitted, taking a look in your direction.

You kicked the rock again as you approached it, watching it bounce and tumble down the sidewalk and into the grass.

“Are MJ and Ned going to meet us at the theater or what’s the plan?” You asked, trying to derail the conversation from the topic you had no interest in rehashing.

Peter pulled a hand from his pocket and rubbed the back of his neck before putting it back in his pocket. He should’ve known you’d ask about the other two people who were supposed to be in attendance to your evening out.

“MJ had to go to detention since she’s behind on her sketchbook work for art class. You know how she is, likes to draw people in detention for whatever reason. And Ned went home sick after lunch. He made the mistake of eating the meatloaf.” He lied, surprised he thought of something believable off the top of his head.

In reality, he paid MJ twenty dollars to refrain from going to the movie and to lie about her whereabouts, something she never had trouble at doing, and he promised Ned that he’d spend the rest of the weekend helping him build another Star Wars lego model even though Peter wanted to grow out of the habit of playing with legos.

You frowned a bit, having hoped you could’ve had some much needed girl time with MJ and wanting the funny commentary and banter of Ned during a movie that would normally terrify you.

“Oh. Well, that sucks, but it’s okay. At least we’re still going together.” You raised your frown into a slight smile.

Silence fell between you once again, leaving the only audible sound to be the wind and your heels hitting the ground in unison as you walked towards the movie theater.

“Don’t worry about paying tonight. It’s my treat.” Peter stated as the theater came into view on the horizon.

“Oh, Peter, you don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. Just let me treat you to a night out. I feel bad that you’ve been having a rough day, so it’s the least I could do.”

You reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks before you engulfed him into a hug with your arms tight around his neck and your perfume filling his nostrils.

“Peter Parker, you are truly my best friend and the love of my life.” You announced proudly, not realizing that the words warmed Peter in a way he’d never experienced before.

“I love you too, Y/n, but I cannot breathe with you choking me out like this.” He said softly, pretending to wheeze as you pulled away, giving him a shove.

“You are so dramatic.” You chuckled, starting to walk down the sidewalk once again.

“I’m dramatic?” Peter scoffed as he jogged to keep up with you. “Aren’t you the theater nerd?”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not also a drama queen.”

“I’ll have you know, I am very good at keeping my cool.”

“Tell that to Flash Thompson and your little rivalry.”

“Flash is an asshole.”

“I’m not saying he isn’t,” you argued, “all I’m saying is that you get a bit dramatic with him. I like to think he’s secretly in love with you.”

“Ew, gross.” Peter shook his head. “Flash is the last person I’d want a dramatic romance with.”

“I think Flash is the last person anyone wants to have a romance with.” You laughed.

Peter was glad that it seemed your spirits were lifting as you finally made it to the theater. He could feel his own spirits lifted by your bettering mood which left him not needing to worry as much.

He didn’t know whether it was the elation in mood he was feeling between the two of you or the instinctive urge to keep you close and protected that had him reaching for your hand as he opened the door to the theater to let you in first, but as you walked through the corridor, he grabbed it without thought or hesitation.

You didn’t know what possessed him to grab your hand either, but you found yourself refraining from questioning it, wanting to feel the warmth and caring touch of someone else. Though your spirits were lifted a bit, you still felt lonely deep down.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, glancing down at you as he grabbed the tickets from the girl at the ticket counter and began to guide you towards the snack bar.

You nodded, unsure of what to say as Peter continued to watch you closely. You held your breath, suddenly nervous with his eyes on you before you were saved by his eyes travelling to view the menu far above your head.

“I’m thinking we get a large popcorn and two sodas.” He thought out loud as you frowned. “Unless, that’s not what you want?”

You blinked, shaking your head quickly as you spoke. “No, no, sorry. I got lost in thought. That sounds fine. I’m not that hungry, though.”

“How are you not hungry? You ate two bites of mac and cheese at lunch and then pushed it around on your tray.”

You shrugged, pulling your hand from his and crossing your arms over your chest. You were somewhat building up an appetite, but every time you did, you suddenly felt sick by your own intrusive thoughts about your heartache and break up with a boy you knew you shouldn’t have been crying over.

“I guess I’m not really in the mood to eat too much.” You finally said.

“Well, I’m still getting the large and if you ask for any, I won’t give you some. You already said no.” Peter teased.

“Oh, you would never say no to me.”

“You wanna bet?” Peter raised a brow as you reached the front of the short line.

“I’ll bet you a bag of overpriced M&M’s.”

“I thought you weren’t hungry.”

“I am always hungry for M&M’s.”

Peter smiled with a light eye roll. “Alright, but you can’t eat any until we determine who won.”

“Deal.”

You smiled as he turned away from you, ordering your snacks and you began taking each one from him before he carried the popcorn and his drink and you carried your own drink and the bag of M&M’s you were so excited to win. You watched your feet fall to the ground to his in unison as you two stayed silent, trying to navigate the hallway for the theater your movie was in.

“Hey, Peter?” You caught the boy’s attention as he walked through the open door of your theater, a fistful of popcorn in his hand as he looked at you.

“Yeah?” He began walking backwards as he faced you and tossed the popcorn into his mouth.

“Can I have some popcorn?”

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded as he spoke through his mouthful of popcorn and held the bucket out to you.

You began laughing, taking a few pieces of popcorn and popping them into your mouth.

“Why are you laughing?” Peter asked as you were giggling beside him now following him up the stairs of the theater before looking down at his bucket. “Oh. I guess you can have those M&M’s after all.”

“We just made this bet! How’d you forget already?” You chuckled, walking past him and into an aisle, picking the perfect seat in the middle of the theater.

“I-I don’t know! I got so involved in the popcorn I forgot.”

“I guess that’s one way of saying you want to marry a food item.” You teased as he rolled his eyes and took a seat beside you.

“You know, I’m not going to get mad cause you’re going through it, but when you’re over it, I will get you back for this.”

“How? You’re already a victim of premature Alzheimer’s. You won’t remember this by the time I get a new boyfriend.”

You reached over, grabbing a handful of popcorn and beginning to eat the pieces one by one as you watched Peter closely.

“You know, sometimes I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Cause you don’t even have a mean bone in your body. Flash bullies you mercilessly and you don’t even say anything back.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” You shook your head. “It makes you a good guy. And we need good guys in this world.”

“You think I’m a good guy?” Peter raised his brow as you nodded wildly at him.

“Of course I do.” You leaned over, placing a hand on his. “You’re not just a good guy, but a guy too good for this world, you know? You deserve the world, but the world doesn’t deserve you.”

Peter leaned in close to you. “Sorry, I don’t think I heard that.”

You could feel your breath hitch as he leaned in, his face a few mere inches from yours. It wasn’t that you were scared, but nervous at your excitement at the thought of him kissing you.

Peter could feel your anxious energy as he leaned in close, the urge to kiss you in the way he’d always wanted to growing strong as he moved his head so your lips were lined up to his ear. It wasn’t that he wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want to take advantage of your loneliness in that moment.

You leaned in close to his ear, your nostrils now full of his shampoo as you spoke softly. “I said that I thought you were such a great guy that you deserve the world, but the world doesn’t deserve you.”

“You mean that?” He answered back, his voice as soft as your own.

He did dare lean back or move his head from the position it was in for fear that he’d kiss you so soon. The words you were saying were ones he always wanted you to say, but never thought would come out. He wanted to be everything you ever wanted, but your words now felt somewhat short yet so close to that sentiment.

“Of course I do.” You replied, your own urge to kiss him rising steadfast in the back of your mind.

You couldn’t tell if it was your loneliness or the sudden dimming of the theater lights that had you realizing that all you wanted was to cross the line of friendship with Peter, a line you never realized was made to be crossed when it came to your friendship.

Every touch, every sweet nothing, every thing about him you loved began to swirl around in your mind as you pulled away from him and gazed into his eyes before planting your lips on his, pushing him back into the armrest of his seat.

Peter was shocked by the gesture as he leaned into the kiss, his hands resting on your cheeks before you pulled away from him breathlessly.

“Y/n, I-”

“Peter.” You cut him off before giggling. “Go ahead.”

“Bug, I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you and your feelings about your breakup even though I really like you and-”

You cut the boy off with another kiss, not wanting to hear what he had to say. You knew he was going to give you some speech about how you might not know what your feeling and so on, but you didn’t care. You knew that you kissed him and you liked it and that it felt more right than any date with Brad.

You pulled away, putting a hand over his mouth before he could speak as you began to instead. “Peter, I know how I feel. I like you too, okay? Now, can we just take advantage of the fact we’re some of the few people in here and just hang out?”

Peter nodded, pulling your hand off of him. “I think I’d like that.”

299 notes · View notes

breathlessmorro · 3 years ago

Note

*emerging from the depths of hiatus to get a sip of that destiNY* oo how about college AU shenanigans? i'm not good at prompts sorry >.<

You ask - you shall receive!

Synopsis - For years, Morro has been forced to put up with Kai's annoying antics in class, leaving him with a bad permanent record and even worse temper. However, things aren't exactly how they appear.

College Isn't Easy, They Said.

Morro grinded his teeth together as he fought to keep quiet, diligently taking his notes and trying to remember what his professor was saying. His handwriting may have been more harsh than it usually was, but at least he was managing to stay calm and collected. Already, he had half of Professor Chen's lecture condensed into clear and concise notes that could make a PowerPoint Presentation beam with pride. Not as easy a task as it might seem with the idiot next to him.

Kai Smith - as always - had his earbuds in and was completely ignoring the lesson. Not that the earbuds did much to silence the irritatingly loud and obnoxious music blaring from the mini-speakers. In fact, Morro often wondered if Kai had such a big listening problem because of the volume in the first place. The aggressive tempo of drums and guitar were grating on Morro's nerves every single day, and he had to fight to keep his cool. He wasn't even sure why Kai was taking a psychology class in the first place when his major wasn't even related to it. It seemed Kai's presence served no purpose other than to annoy; and annoy it did.

Things had been like this for years now. Morro would find out he had a class with Kai, and of course was forced to sit next to him. Showing even an ounce of distaste meant that Kai would take it as an invitation to try and distract Morro in any way possible. Whether it be tapping a pencil, playing footsie, or like now, listening to deafening metal music that he didn't even like, Kai was determined to get Morro in trouble. He took every single opportunity to try and make him look bad. The amount of times where he succeeded didn't matter, only that Morro's hatred for the smug grin that followed worsened with every passing day.

This year, Morro had sworn it wasn't going to happen. Freshmen in college did not shout at their classmates in the middle of a lecture, and Morro couldn't afford to look bad in front of the faculty here. Not while his father was the dean of the university.

So once again, he gathered his steely resolve, and brought his attention back to Chen's lecture about Elemental Envy, a condition where a person became obsessed with elemental powers to the point of violence. An ironic subject for him to teach about, Morro had once thought. Though any logical thinking had left him once he'd seen Kai make a beeline for him that morning. It had of course returned with the lecture regarding jealousy over a certain elemental ability leading some to aggression.

Sensing that Morro was gaining some moral high ground, Kai decided that right then was an appropriate moment to lean over and whisper to him.

"Sound like someone we know?" he snickered, causing Morro to shoot a nasty glare at him before turning back to his notes.

Clearly unsatisfied with the reaction, he tried again.

"C'mon, that was funny." Morro didn't think it was. "Lighten up."

Morro felt his eyebrow twitch. He was fairly certain that meant he was stressed.

He counted the seconds of sweet and glorious silence before he could hear Kai scoot closer again. Without the earbud in his ear, the music was slightly louder than before. Not that it was catching Chen's attention yet of course.

He made it five seconds even. "Think there's some kind of green ninja envy?"

Oh. Low blow.

"You're one to talk," Morro hissed at him, keeping his eyes firmly on his notes. It wasn't lashing out if it was just one statement, he reasoned with himself. "You were obsessed at one point too."

He quickly cursed himself for humoring Kai's jab once he saw the beaming grin across his face. On a good day, that kind of comment would have ticked Kai off to where he would be the one to cause a disturbance, but it seemed Kai came to class armed with patience today. A rare feat. Morro vaguely considered congratulating him.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Kai leaned back in his seat. "At least I didn't bully my own cousin." Of course, this argument again.

"Can't you leave it alone?" Morro bit back, glancing in Kai's direction before looking back to his notes. "That was in high school. I don't even-"

"What was that, Morro?" Ah shit. "Do you have something you want to share?"

Chen's high-pitched voice was tolerable when it wasn't directed at anyone specific, but the way Chen's said someone's name made it a thousand times more irritating. Seriously, did he just hate his students or something? Why even become a professor?

Meeting his eyes, Morro shook his head, leaning back into his seat. "No, sorry," he answered. "Just thinking out loud."

Chen raised a brow at the excuse. Clearly he hadn't bought it. Especially not when Kai had already scooted back into his own seat, pretending to be writing his own notes.

What a guy.

"Well keep the thinking to a minimum. Others would like peace and quiet."

No fucking shit, Morro thought to himself as he nodded. One Chen's back was turned, he glared at Kai again, before looking to see how many notes he'd missed.

Seriously, this couldn't be allowed to go on much longer. Morro had to change classes.

***

"Seriously?! There's no other -"

"If you want to stay in psychology, that is the only available class."

"But he's -"

"In the same study program as you are."

"Ugh!" Morro slumped in his seat, covering his face with his hands. He'd thought complaining to Wu would be enough to convince him to get out of the class, but apparently none of Chen's other periods had room for another elemental master. The Elemental Study Program was created for elemental masters across Ninjago who wished to learn more about their abilities. It offered an advanced learning course for those enlisted, and also kept them in classes together. Which meant there was also a limit on how many were placed in a class to, "keep other students safe." As if they were a threat. The program had become a lot less separate from other students once When had taken over, but there was still a lot to be improved on.

Wu gave Morro a sympathetic look before clearing his throat. "I understand why you have your reservations about Kai, but surely he's not distracting you too much." Morro pulled his hands away from his eyes to see Wu typing something on his computer. Leaning over the desk to see what it was, he narrowed his brows when he noticed his grade book being pulled up on the monitor. "Your grades are as excellent as ever."

Morro huffed as he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms and blowing a strand of hair from his face. "My permanent record isn't," he grumbled. "Any shot I have at a future job could be completely erased once people hear about how, 'disruptive,' and, 'disrespectful,' I am in a formal setting. You don't understand how frustrating it is to have a professor automatically hate you when you haven't even done anything wrong yet."

"You're right, I don't." Wu set his elbows down on the desk, resting his chin on his hands and gazing over Morro thoughtfully. "But have you ever considered asking Kai why he likes to antagonize you?"

"I think it's obvious," Morro scoffed. He averted his eyes from Wu and uncrossed his arms, swallowing hard when he spoke again. "It's because of how I treated Lloyd in high school. I know it wasn't right, but I stopped, didn't I? And I apologized. But Kai just wants to get me in trouble."

Wu hummed, a consideration sound before setting his hands down. "Well if Lloyd has already forgiven, why would Kai continue to seek you out?"

"I don't know, probably because he hates me?"

"Now don't jump to conclusions," Wu chuckled, shaking his fondly at Morro's pout. "How about you ask him yourself? I know your next class isn't for a few hours. Surely you could track him down and confront him."

Morro thought it over. Sure, confronting Kai would give Morro the chance he needed to speak his mind without reprimand, but it could also mean making things worse between them. Morro's relationship with Lloyd was rocky enough as it was, and that was mostly because of how he and Kai were always at each other's throats. He didn't need to make it worse. Then again, he could also find a way to get Kai to stop for good, and his permanent record could have a chance to recover.

He groaned, dropping his head against the back of the chair before meeting Wu's gaze again. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll try to talk to him. But," he narrowed his eyes at Wu and pointed at him, "don't think it's gonna magically fix things. He's stubborn and an ass."

"That's two things you have in common already." Wu smiled at him. "Now go on, shoo. I have some papers to file and unless you want to help me-"

Morro was already out the door.

***

He found Kai sitting with two other students in the courtyard, their elements on display for all to see. At first, he wasn't sure who the other two were, before recognizing them as Jay and Nya. Morro didn't talk to Nya that much, but he was all too familiar with his cousin, Jay. Their delightful family reunion hadn't been that delightful, and so they barely spoke to each other.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, Morro gathered the remnants of his courage and patience before stepping towards them. He stopped right behind Kai, and cleared his throat to get his attention.

Kai turned around with a gleeful expression, which quickly morphed into something more smug. "What's up, breezy?"

Morro rolled his eyes, and caught Nya doing the same before he opened his mouth. "Hi. Jay, Nya, can I borrow him for a moment?"

"I dunno," Jay squinted at him. "You gonna bring him back?"

"Only if I want to."

"Ha!" Kai grinned at him, extinguishing the small flame in his hand. "Like you're gonna get the chance. Be back in a sec, guys."

Brushing off his pants, he rose to his feet, meeting Morro's gaze. As always, Kai met his stare with defiance and smugness. Morro hated it, but he had to get this over with sooner or later. His reputation seriously depended on it. His sanity too. Morro gestured for Kai to follow him, and started walking away from the crowded campus grounds.

"So what's so urgent you just had to pull me away from my friends, huh?" Kai asked as they made their way through the crowd of students. Morro's brow quirked upwards at the laid back question, as if Kai really had no idea why Morro would want to talk to him.

Exhaling through his nose, Morro rolled his eyes. "What do you think, Kai?" he scoffed at him. "I need you to stop annoying me during class. It's distracting and I can't afford that."

Morro winced as Kai barked out a laugh. "Seriously dude?" The latter shook his head, his entire body shaking with uncontained amusement. "That's it? I thought it was something important, like Wu needed my help with something."

"If he needed your help, why wouldn't he just tell you himself?"

"I don't know," Kai shrugged. "I don't understand anything he does, honestly."

Morro glanced over his shoulder to give Kai a dirty look. "So you think he'd just ask me, when he knows I literally hate everything about you, to tell you about some important mission?"

Again, Kai's shoulders shrugged. "Wouldn't be the weirdest - wait." Kai stopped walking, prompting Morro to stop as well. He turned around, fully prepared to snap at Kai for stopping when he caught his expression. "You hate me?"

Kai's normally mischievous and vibrant brown eyes were suddenly clouded with - well, Morro didn't know what. His smug little grin was gone, and his shoulders had gone completely tense. Any biting comeback Morro could have come up with died on his tongue, and he hesitated before answering.

"Well, I guess it's a pretty strong word for it, but I don't exactly like you." Morro shifted slightly, suddenly feeling uneasy. "All you do is annoy me and get in trouble. We're not friends, and we don't talk outside of classes or the program."

The uneasy feeling crawled up Morro's throat as Kai's shoulders fell, his eyes downcast and melancholy. "Right. Sorry about that." He rubbed at his arm awkwardly before walking again. "Is that what you wanted to talk about then?"

Taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere, it took Morro a second before he too started moving. The crowd of students had decreased rapidly, leaving them alone at the edge of campus grounds. He considered Kai's words before answering them, careful not to set him off.

"Kind of, I guess." He sighed, before shaking his head. "I just want you to stop, okay? I know you're only doing it because of how I used to treat Lloyd, but I'm not like that anymore. We made up and moved on." He met Kai's gaze firmly, ignoring the warning bells that were ringing in the back of his head once he saw the disappointment reflected back at him. "So why didn't you?"

Kai sputtered for a moment, shaking his head. "What? No, I - Okay, sure. That might have been how it started, but I thought that…" He trailed off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck and averting his eyes. "Once you apologized, I thought we were just fighting for fun. I didn't know you were still taking it personally."

"Personally?" Morro raised a brow at him. "How could I not? Every single day, it's always, 'remember when you did this?' and just constant jabs from you. What else could it have been?"

"I don't know, maybe - " Kai cut himself off before shaking his head. "No, forget it. I'm sorry, I should have been paying more attention. That's my fault."

"A little bit," Morro deadpanned.

Kai winced at that, and Morro could tell that it had stung. Maybe he should have been more careful, but Kai was confusing him now, and he didn't like being confused. He stayed quiet as Kai stared into space for a moment, considering leaving when Kai spoke again.

"Listen; after you and Lloyd made up, I realized I kind of like messing with you," he said softly, crossing his arms and refusing to meet Morro's eyes again. "I mean, you never just let me, so it kind of felt like a fun game. Everything I threw at you, you just matched super easily. I really liked messing with you, and I thought that…"

As Kai trailed off once again, Morro finally caught a glimpse of his face. A bright red blush spread from Kai's nose and cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. His stance was awkward and nervous, shoulders tense and head down. At first, Morro thought that this was the beginning to a very good apology, but now it was starting to seem like something else entirely.

Taking a deep breath in, Kai finally met Morro's eyes, with enough conviction in them to make the latter freeze in place.

"I thought that you liked me too."

Oh. Oh.

Thinking back to every conversation they'd ever had, yeah. It was easy for Morro to see how Kai had come to that conclusion. All those attempts at getting each other's attention, the games to test each other's patience until one of them snapped. Of course Kai liked him. That was how every guy acted around their crush. Morro couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Guys were stupid.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Morro could see Kai staring at him almost nervously, like he was waiting for someone to shout at him. Clearing his throat, Morro opened his mouth.

"I…" Very articulate. "Oh. I didn't think of it like that I guess," he shrugged, not really knowing how to respond. "I was so busy getting mad at you, I thought… Well, you know what I thought."

"Yeah," Kai sighed, shaking his head. "I do. I'm sorry, I should have - "

"Wait!" Morro couldn't let Kai finish, not with the way this conversation appeared to be heading. "I never once said that I was against it."

That took Kai by surprise, and it showed. His shoulders dropped, his eyes went wide, and he stared at Morro for a moment before shaking his head. "But you said you hated me!"

"I also said that was a really strong word."

"So you do like me?"

Morro held up his hands. "I didn't say that either," he said, a small smile sneaking its way into his expression. Knowing that Kai had actually been crushing on him this whole wasn't an entirely unpleasant thing, actually. Morro had eyes. He knew Kai was a real piece of work when he wasn't busy being annoying. "But… I don't think I'd be opposed to trying something new."

Kai's grin practically swallowed his face, and Morro could only imagine how sore it must have made his cheeks. "Alright, something new." He hesitantly stepped closer, the blush returning in full force. "I can work with that."

"Good." Morro stepped closer to him as well, before his smile turned serious. "But don't think you can get away with annoying me every day now. Being cute is only going to get you so fa - "

Kai cut him off, pressing his lips gently to Morro's before pulling away with a smile.

"You talk too much."

Morro grinned, before pulling Kai back into another kiss.

Yeah, he could work with this.

#kai smith #morro #kai x morro #morro ninjago #kai ninjago #destinyshipping ninjago #firestorm ninjago #windflame #sensei wu #master wu #college!au #breathless writes

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peachypizzicato · 4 years ago

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an about? on MY blog? its more likely thank u think (semi outdated, will be replaced eventually, f/o list is up to date though :3c)

hi there! i’m opal/anemone, but my friends call me callie/cal and sometimes i refer to myself as peachy so anything is fine! i’m 20 and my pronouns are she/her (but they/them are fine too)!

this is my main self shipping blog! pretty much every post here will either be about self ship in general or my f/os and their source, so if you aren’t keen on those this probably isn’t the blog for you!

i self ship mostly as a comfort thing, so my main purpose here is to just chill and have fun! :)

some important things to note:

-as stated, im an adult! as far as this account goes that means i’ll curse fairly often, so if you’re uncomfy with that you may want to tread lightly! (i also have an nsfw side blog, minors please do not follow or interact there, adult followers are welcome to ask for the url!)

-i can put on an outgoing face when posting, but im actually really nervous with new people! so please be mindful if you decide to hop into dms, small talk is pretty difficult for me!

-i don’t really have any notable triggers or anything like that, just don’t be weird, y’know? my account is meant to be safe and comfortable for everybody!

my tags:

-peachyrambles: textposts usually, just me runnin’ my yap

-peachyart: my art, if that wasn’t obvious! more often than not revolving around self ship, but sometimes crossposts from my general

-peachymisc: any post that isn’t exclusively text but also isn’t a high enough effort piece to fall under the art tag, middle of the road type stuff

-peachy’s prized possessions: gifts and fanart and the like! pretty much anything that people make for me, it means the world to me <3

-[name] appreesh/appreciation: reblogs or submissions from friends n muts that i interact with a lot!! sometimes also on fanart of inserts n things if we’re close enough :0

-peanut gallery: anonymous asks/submissions, regardless of whether they’re identified or not (identified anons usually get the previous tag too!)

-i don’t do content warnings much, but i’d be happy to within reason! don’t be afraid to ask :)

ship specific info:

-i don’t really have a huge problem with others shipping with my f/os, all i ask is that everyone shows mutual respect! nobody is more entitled to them than anybody else, there’s enough of them to go around!

-i don’t really have specific tags for ships, since i’m awful at thinking of clever ship names, but currently i only have a few (mostly from the same source, fnf, no less!) so they aren’t terribly hidden!

-however, for reference, my s/i’s are:

•penelope “penny” (rom: senpai [week 6]), who you can see in my icon!

•olive (rom: garcello [smoke em out struggle mod], plat: annie [vs annie mod]), with the bright red hair! (content hiatus)

•elodie (rom: chris [demonic discourse mod/hellbent]), with the ponytail and the big round glasses!

•cordelia (rom: raine whispers, child: golden guard/hunter [the owl house]), with the pointy ears!

•autumn spice cookie (rom: roguefort cookie [cookie run ovenbreak]), from like one single post!

•snickerdoodle cookie (rom: eggnog cookie, plat: tiramisu cookie [cookie run ovenbreak]), from the… more posts?

•calliope “callie” (rom: nadia, muriel, and asra [the arcana]), with the two-tone hair!

#woah i finally have an about… weird #only took me twoish months #peachymisc

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celestialrry · 4 years ago

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call me baby

psa: this might have a part 2 if anyone wants it, ik its a shitty ending lol but I wouldn’t know what to write after this. also I have another angst piece in the works but its literally taking so long to write 😖

1.8k

summary: Being hopelessly in love with your friend isn’t ideal, especially when Harry doesn’t even seem to see you as more than a therapist.

warnings: angst, pining, cursing

You looked over at your phone, now vibrating against your bedside table, lit up with his contact photo, a picture of him sticking his tongue out. “Hi.” You picked it up, wrapping your free arm around your torso, sitting up a bit straighter out of instinct even though he couldn't see you.

“Hey, love. Can I get some advice?” He asked through the phone, his voice a bit gravely and deep as always. You silently sighed, biting your lip in hesitation. Everytime you’d get a call from him, he would either rant about his current partner, get advice about them, or just want you to be there when he needed someone to talk to.

Of course you would always be there for him, regardless of time, space, and anyone he gave his heart to. He was Harry Styles for god's sake, your friend since forever, the man who treated everyone like they were the best thing in his life, most of the time at least. He lit up any room he was in and when you’d see him it would always be fulfilling, even if the two of you sat in silence in a room of just four walls.

“Of course, what’s up?” You asked after a brief moment of silence. It was currently 4 in the morning in your single room flat in London and you didn’t think Harry knew that, but you weren't going to tell him.

“It’s just, Ana’s has been so clingy lately and we’ve only been together officially for 3 weeks. It’s making me want to end things.” Harry admitted into the phone. You almost rolled your eyes at his words. Not once has he called you to ask about you in months, but that's just how things were. You weren’t sure why you expected anything else.

“If you aren’t happy with her, end it,” You spoke up after a while, unsure if you were giving him the advice because you were desperate to be with him or it was genuinely what he should do. “There’s no point in being with her if you’re considering ending it over her being clingy.”

You heard him sigh into the phone before speaking up. “Yeah, we’ll see, thanks,” He said your name. You smiled a bit at that. It was crazy how he could make you feel so special by just the tone of his voice, absurd, really,

“ ‘Course. So-” Before you could say anything else you heard the beep of the phone being hung up. You took a deep breath, trying to think of how Harry and you were before everything changed.

2 years ago

“I can’t believe you’re officially moving to L.A.” You said as you stood in his bedroom doorway, watching him pack up his last few clothes.

“Me neither.” He simply said.

Before you could stop it, you felt a salty tear roll down you cheek. As you wiped it away, he turned around, his face dropping all previous joy, concern flooding his features.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He used the nickname he gave you 11 years ago when we were 10. It was crazy how the two of you had known each other so long, and now you were both 21, and he would be living in the city of angels.

“Just gonna miss seeing you as often as I usually do is all.” You laughed, the tears flowing more freely now. One Direction had just gone on hiatus and after spending some time at home, Harry decided to switch it up a bit. You didn’t understand why he couldn’t just switch it up by not wearing skinny jeans everyday, but it seemed he wanted something bigger than that.

He pouted and walked over to you, giving me a hug before mumbling in your ear, “I’ll call you everyday. Promise.”

Promises were made to be broken, it seemed. He only calls you when he needs a hand, and only answers if he’s alone. You wish you found it more frustrating than painful, maybe that way it would be easier to move on, but you have yet to do so. You’ve asked yourself why you were still silently pining over him, with no answer in sight.

The last time you saw Harry in person was almost a year ago, when he came back to visit his family. Up until that trip he called you everyday, or close too, wanting to know about you day or he just “wanted to hear your voice”. Then when we were together it was like no time had passed while he was away.

1 year ago

“Oh shut up.” You scoffed, lightly punching his bicep.

He just laughed in return, rubbing his arm acting like you had actually hurt him.

“I feel like you just got back and now you’re leaving again,” you said after a bit, knowing he was leaving the next morning. “Plus,” you added, gently playing with his hair. “I’m gonna miss your hair, it’s so fun to braid.”

He looked over at you as your hand fell to rest on his shoulder, running your fingers through his curls. “I know, but I’ll come back soon. I’ll try not to cut my hair for you, don’t worry.” He smiled at you, leaning over and pulling you into a hug.

You just returned his grin and hug, and stuck your fingers through the ringlets, having way too much fun with his hair. You noticed he was looking at you the entire time you were messing with his hair, but you convinced yourself it was because he had nowhere else to look.

Eventually, you were so close to him you could see freckles you never had before. Your breath hitched, not knowing if you should backup or not, your hand still resting on his shoulder in his curls. Then all of a sudden he was far away again, and it was like nothing had ever happened.

Your heart ached with the love you had for Harry, and it seemed nothing could cure it except him and when you woke up the next morning and instinctively checked your phone, you frowned as you noticed no notifications from the one person you truly wanted to hear from.

You weren’t sure when your hurt extended from the pain of practically losing a friend to the pain of not being able to be with someone you love. You weren’t sure when you started seeing his lips as kissable and not something to put lipstick on for fun. You weren’t sure when you started looking at his hands as something to hold and not as a blocker for your playful punches.

You weren’t sure when you started stealing glances more than you usually did or avoiding eye contact because it made you nervous. You weren’t sure when your stomach was no longer empty and then filled with butterflies. You weren’t sure when he stopped calling just to talk, or when he stopped picking up. All you were sure of was that you were hopelessly in love with someone who could never feel the same.

✧˖*°࿐

He called a few more times about the same girl, Ana. You had spoken to your friend about it, and you were slowly getting over him. Each time you were getting cut off and hung up on, and it took a really long time for you to know you deserved better. He hadn’t called you since he attempted once and you didn’t answer. It went on for a few months, he would call you almost everyday, alongside texts like “Hello?”, “Pick up, please?”, and the text that came last before you blocked him, “Are you okay?”. He didn’t deserve to know, and sure maybe you shouldn’t have just cut off all contact, but there was no other way to get over him.

A month after you blocked him, and you were no longer sulking when you checked your phone and no longer crying to sleep. You were becoming happy thanks to your self control, and finally learning that just because Harry didn’t love you, didn;t mean you shouldn’t love yourself.

You were sitting on your couch when there was a knock at your door. You looked up from the book in your lapa and stood up, scurrying to the door, not wanting the person at the other side to be waiting.

You swung it open, met with the last face you expected to see. He looked concerned almost, and almost immediately you were wrapping in his arms, after over a year he was holding you once more. Except this time you didn’t want it. You pushed him off of you and stepped back. “What are you doing here Harry?” You asked, a scowl on your face.

“I-y’wouldn’t answer me and then nothing went through, god, I was so worried, love-”

“No,” You shook your head. “Don’t call me that, you can’t just come here after being an asshole to me for over a year. You are not allowed to be worried about me, not when you haven’t bothered to ask how I am after all this time.”

His mouth dropped open in shock, you were always so calm, you never had yelled at him before. “I’m sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” You pursed your lips.

“Just let me explain,” He said, hesitating like he was trying to find an answer to this, but you knew whatever he told you, nothing would change. “I-when we saw each other last, we almost kissed, or at least I almost kissed you, I love you, I was so scared that y’wouldn’t feel the same, and I guess I got caught up in trying to make you jealous. Please, m’so sorry.”

He took a step towards you and you took two steps back. There was no way he felt the same as you did- you had. And even if he did, you always knew he was shit at handling feelings, but there was no excuse.

“No, you can’t do that, say that. I don’t care if you mean it or not,” You began, tearing up. “That-thats’s so fucking terrible to do to someone, especially if you love them. I’m tired Harry, I’m done with you, I’ve been done with you for months.”

“What?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe you.

“Please leave.”

Your heart broke at your own words, but you couldn’t forgive him. Not now, and maybe not ever.

“Please I-”

“I said leave, Harry.”

You could see his watery eyes as he opened his mouth to protest once more, but then closed it. There was nothing he could say. Not anymore. He was always leaving, but this time, for the first time, you wanted him to.

#call me baby #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles

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ialwaysgobacktoit · 4 years ago

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THIS IS PART 8 NOW :)

Of "Time to rest your weary head" (or 'Azriel surprises Gwyn for her birthday'!!!!)

Check out the whole story here

Since last chapter was so short, I made this one bigger - and I absolutely love writing through Gwyn's perspective. I always try to be as mindful and careful as I can when I write her POV and address her trauma, but if there's anything you feel could be done differently, please let me know! :) and thank you so much for reading. Your support means everything to me <3

HEY GIRLS @katiebellf @starbornsinger @madie2200 check out my new chapter!!! and if you wanted to be tagged on this too, feel free to comment ;)

A few days passed by, and Gwyn could say she was already feeling at home in the House of Wind. She continued attending the services at dawn, pushing herself at training, then having lunch with Nesta, Cassian and sometimes Azriel, and at last spending her habitual hours in the library doing research work for Merrill before returning to the House. It was a routine she was kind of used to by now, and it made her happy.

She hadn’t been to Velaris after dinner with the Inner Circle and was secretly growing impatient to visit it again. She was planning to go shopping with Nesta and Emerie, but didn’t summon courage enough to invite them. Something about strolling around the city streets at dusk made her a bit nervous. Although she didn’t feel like admitting it out loud.

She was proud of herself, because she truly felt she was overcoming her fears. These last months were ones of a slow, but effective healing journey. She felt herself being less intimidated around others, mostly males like Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand was more distant, but even the worry she felt at dinner that night had faded. She saw Azriel almost every day and nothing seemed to have changed between them; so she believed in Rhys’s word when he promised her not to tell him.

Something caught her eye and interrupted her line of thought. She was sitting in a comfortable armchair by the fireplace at the House’s private library after a particularly exhausting afternoon, trying to read a not-too-smutty book Emerie had lent her, and immediately raised her head from the shadow near her feet to the door, where Azriel stood by.

“How long have you been there?” She asked and quietly hoped her blushed cheeks went unnoticed by him.

Surprisingly enough, sharing a hallway with Azriel didn’t mean they saw more of each other. He was so quiet she couldn’t detect his presence in his room, and usually she woke up before sunrise, so they didn’t meet each other until breakfast. A part of Gwyn couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated by that.

“Not much.” He said, stepping into the library. She motioned him to seat on the armchair across from hers, and so he did. “Actually, I just came here to ask you something.”

Oh.

She felt something flunk in her chest; it’s been a while since they last met at the training ring late at night, and that was because lately her nightmares were keeping themselves at bay. She remembered their last encounter, his hazel eyes shining under the moonlight as he stared at her from across the room, and they sparred in silence almost until the time of her service.

He didn’t seem different around her, although she could notice him staring at her sometimes with a glimpse of emotion in his eyes. And she felt she was becoming better at hiding her feelings when near him; oddly, something had calmed inside her. That urge and nervousness weren’t the first things to come to mind anymore, and she was content to enjoy their friendship. At least that’s what she kept telling to herself. There were some nights in which her dreams were filled with cedar scent, a pair of hazel eyes looking at her intensely, his beautiful hands on her hair…

She shook her head slightly and forced herself to meet his stare, the firelight making his face look golden; an elegant, handsome angel staring straight at her.

“What is it?”

“I wanted to know if…” His throat bobbed once, and she couldn’t help noticing he seemed nervous. Him, the Shadowsinger, nervous. He rephrased it, staring intently at the fire.

“The Velaris Philharmonic Orchestra will be performing tomorrow. They were in a long undetermined hiatus during the last fifty years, and now they’re back.” His brows furrowed, eyes filled with anger at what had caused it. “I used to go there every other night. And I was wondering… Since you said you’re meaning to leave the House more often, if we, well…”

She tried to suppress her chuckle at the way he fought to find the words. Instead, there was a timid smile on her face when she hesitantly interrupted him:

“Are you asking me… To come with you?”

He finally tore his stare away from the fire to meet her; those hazel eyes filled with something resembling hope.

“Would you like to?”

And damn her if his smile didn’t make her heart and her chest heat up when she responded:

“I would. Very much.”

Suddenly the room felt smaller. She swore the lights dimmed a bit, and all she could think and see was the silhouette of his face and his eyes. Those eyes that’d seen so much, endured so much, and now looked at her, as if trying to vocalize something without saying anything at all. They stayed like that, lost in each other for what seemed like eons, before he cleared his throat.

“So… I’ll let you to your book, then.”

Those words sounded forced, as if he didn’t in fact want to leave. She gave him a smile, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Stay.

His shadows were all around her now, gently circling her shoulders.

Just as he meant to leave the room, she found herself stating:

“I’m glad you listened to it. What I said about restraining them.” She gestured with her head towards the shadows, and reached for one with her finger. The tendril seemed happy to be touched and wrapped itself in her hand, to what she giggled. “I really like them, you know.”

When she looked up to Azriel, he had a cryptic look on his face, watching in wonder the interaction in front of him.

“They like you too.” His voice was filled with a hidden emotion, and his eyes twinkled.

She smiled at him. “You can stay here for a little while, if you want. I’m not going to bed for a couple hours yet, and I must admit I’m not completely captivated by this novel.”

Even though he had that cool, unreadable mask on almost all the time, she could still see him restraining his surprise. And the way his lips tugged upward told her she was right to assume he didn’t want to leave just yet.

“What’s it about?” He asked while sitting again.

“Well” She skimmed distractedly through the pages, calming her racing heart. “She is a healer from a land up in the North, and he is a tradesman from the South. There’s a curse that connected them since birth, but they don’t know it yet. And that’s what leads them towards one another, the urge to break this curse.” She traced the title, reading the name of the author. “It’s good, just not as good as Diane.”

She casted him an amused look as he laughed quietly at her criticism, shaking his head:

“Because no one will ever compare to her.”

“Never.” She agreed dramatically, and his laugh turned into a grin. “Emerie and Nesta think I’m exaggerating, but I mean it. I must have read her books like ten times by now.”

His eyebrows shot up, clearly interested. “She must be great then.”

“Wait a second. Five hundred years and you’ve never read her?” Gwyn couldn’t hide her astonishment as she gasped.

“Why is that such a surprise?” He leaned back in his chair, that small smile never fading from his face.

“Well, is just… You had plenty of time.” She teased.

“My life is busier than you might think, Berdara.”

“Well, be that as it may, this can no longer go on. You must read it.”

Before he could answer, she called the House to deliver her the stack of Gadot’s novels that were in her bedroom. Her private collection.

“Start by this one” She handed him a copy of And So the Story Goes, that had magically appeared in the table between them “This is my favorite.”

He reached for the book, and she watched as he flipped through the pages. She would admit that sight made her heart flutter once again. The book she had ever since she was little, that she read alongside Catrin, one of the only things she asked Mor to grab her after everything. Its edges were worn, some pages marked and underlined. To have Azriel hold it in his hands…

“You can read it at your own pace. And don’t worry, I have a spare” She showed him the copy Diane had signed her, a newer edition, that beautiful inscription that she knew it by heart in its front page.

I hope you find out what you knew all along.

“I can see you read it a lot.” He stated, musing through the pages and stopping at some passages.

She leaned forward to slap his arm. “What are you doing? Start at the beginning!”

He laughed out loud at her exclamation, his eyes meeting hers.

“Ok, bossy. I definitely will.”

After a few hours of talking and laughing together, she felt the tiredness taking the best of her.

“Goodnight, Az.” She said when she stopped by the door. Even during their conversation, he still held the book, keeping it close to his chest.

“See you tomorrow, Gwyn” She had just turned away when she heard him. “And thank you.”

She looked at him over her shoulder and saw him lifting the book. “Anytime.”

And when she finally shut the door of her bedroom, she couldn’t stop the light feeling on her chest.

***

On the next day, she knocked on Nesta’s door. It was the afternoon, and both Cassian and Azriel were out paying one of their routine visits to the Illyrian camps.

That morning, at service, Gwyn felt like she was flying. She sang like those ancient hymns were all that was left in the world. Even some other Priestesses had commented on that after it was over. And at practice, she couldn’t help her grin when she spotted Azriel across the training ring. And couldn’t help the blush that crept onto her cheeks when he almost immediately turned his head to her, the corner of his lips tugging upward.

She woke up thinking about their meeting at the library, their casual conversation and bantering. She didn’t feel an ounce of discomfort when they were together; everything was so easy. He knew her, her story; he had saved her, for Mother’s sake, and he didn’t make her feel like porcelain, like one blow could shatter her.

Instead, she felt braver and confident when he was around. They could still talk and laugh together as if they hadn’t shared that terrible experience in the past. Mindful of each other’s traumas, indeed, but... It still was light. Trustful. She hoped he’d read the book; she could secretly picture his eyes flipping through her markings and notes. She wanted him to know that part of her.

“Come in” Nesta said from within, interrupting Gwyn’s reverie.

She opened the door, only to find her sister sitting comfortably in an armchair by the window, book in hand and a cup of tea in another. Her training leathers were displayed on the bed, as she thought of training afterwards.

“Hey” Gwyn greeted. She didn’t know where to start.

Aside from Rhys, no one was aware of her recent discovery about the mating bond. Of course, that didn’t stop her sisters from smirking mischievously whenever Azriel was around, at training or during meals. Gwyn knew both Nesta and Emerie had picked upon whatever she was feeling towards him, but they were kind enough not to inquire in public.

“What’s going on?” Her brows furrowed as she got up of her chair.

“Nothing.” Gwyn took in a deep breath. Out with it, Berdara. “I was wondering if you could borrow me a dress.”

Nesta squinted her eyes, and raised an eyebrow as a slow smile started to appear on her face. Cunning, as ever. “May I ask what for?”

Gwyn herself didn’t know. When she found herself alone with Azriel for a moment during training, she had asked him what outfit would be suit for the occasion. He just shrugged with a half-smile, and reassured her she didn’t have to worry about it. But even so, she wanted to look decent for a night out.

“I’m going to Velaris tonight.”

Nesta gasped quietly, and Gwyn could see her eyes were shining with pride. “Alone?”

“No.” Gwyn went to sit at the trunk by the bed. Seeing that Nesta was still staring at her with that knowing smile, she added “Azriel’s taking me to see the Velaris Philarmonic Orchestra.”

She watched as her sister gave her a broad smile, and couldn’t help the blush on her cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing” Nesta hummed back, as she opened the doors to her wardrobe. “Just the two of you?”

Gwyn nodded, standing up and joining her sister in front of her rack full of clothes. So, so many outfits, a myriad compared to Gwyn’s scattered ones. “I don’t know what one’s supposed to wear to the theater. Even less so to watch a live orchestra.”

Nesta huffed a laugh, but her eyes were fixed on the garments in front of them as she scrolled through her various dresses. “Well, I do.”

They spent the next few seconds in silence, as her sister skillfully searched through fabrics. Strangely enough, Gwyn didn’t feel as nervous to have told her as she thought she would. But she was certain Nesta was only waiting for the right moment to fill her with questions.

“Oh, wait. I know.” She passed Gwyn and went to the trunk by that king-sized bed she shared with Cassian. The thought of her sister and her mate didn’t make Gwyn blush the way she once used to, but now the predominant feeling was that she could have that, perhaps. One day. That thought alone made her stomach flutter.

“Here” Nesta drew a burgundy midi dress out of the trunk. “Try this on.”

The V-necked laced bodice wasn’t too tight around the waist, and it had a light and also lacey skirt that draped around her knees, showcasing her legs. It was modest, and yet delicate and elegant.

When Gwyn looked at herself in the mirror, Nesta standing behind her as she zipped her up, she was breathless. It’s been a long, long time since she wore a dress, and this one fitted her perfectly. Alongside with the necklace, her freckled skin and hair, it made her feel… Beautiful. Stunning, even.

“You look splendid” Nesta stared at her through the mirror.

“Thank you.” She turned to her friend, who grabbed her arms and hugged her. She could see she was having fun.

“Do you have shoes to match this?”

Gwyn tilted her head.

“I could use my flats.”

Her sister shook her head, and reached for a matching pair of ankle-strapped scarpin heels under her bed. “Now there you go.”

Suddenly Gwyn felt an urge to cry. She was so happy to count with her sisters at moments like these. It made her excited for the ones to come.

“Hey” Nesta seemed to notice her tearful eyes, and urged her to sit next to her by the bed “Are you ok?”

She nodded and sighed. “I’m just… Happy. I’m nervous, but it feels good to know you girls have my back.”

“You know, Gwyn” Nesta grabbed her hand, her tone gentle. “I was going to say that you didn’t have to do this if you didn’t feel like it, that Azriel would understand…”

The thought of her declining his invitation made her heart ache. She didn’t once consider it; she was just glad to be spending time with him. That hewanted to spend time with her. Just as she opened her mouth to state that, her sister went on:

“But I can see that you want to do this. And I just wanted to let you know that I’m happy for you. And I can’t wait to know all about it when you get back.”

Gwyn squeezed her hand and gave her a cheeky grin:

“I’m excited, Nes.” Her words were barely a whisper as she confided.

“As you should. Now go” She nudged towards the door, smiling. “Go have some fun.”

#gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #azriel x gwyn #did someone ask for gwynriel moments #i live for gwynriel #gwynriel headcanon #gwynriel fics #gwyneth berdara #azriel and gwyn #azriel #post acosf #acotar #I LOVED WRITING THIS AND NEXT CHAPTER IS EVEN BETTER #oops i already have like 2 more chapters written in advance #thanks as always for your support #and reblog this if you really like it to reach more gwynriel stans!

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