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jesterwriting · 7 months

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characters: vampire!shanks x gn!human!reader x vampire!mihawk

contents: flirting, reader is old enough to have wrinkles, seemingly unrequited love, communication issues, an entire decade of pining, shanks sleeps around a lot, also spreading my bisexual shanks agenda, reader is oblivious and i mean oblivious, jealous shanks, meddling mihawk, you could make the case that shanks is an a jerk and id agree, its not on purpose hes just an idiot

word count: 3.4k words

note: happy late halloween!! i meant to finish this yesterday, but i was so exhausted after my trip to the amusement park, i needed a day to recover. plus, this was a lot to write. im excited it's finally done though, ive been sitting on this for a while now :33 i hope all who read enjoy this. theres some things left unsaid by the end of this, i do wanna do a part two though hehe

playlist: lust for a vampyr - i monster

When the sun rose, it was time for the humans of Red-Haired Shanks’ crew to work.

It was a simple arrangement, one that was built on necessity rather than any need for control. As the majority of the ship were unable to step into the sun, Captain Shanks included, human familiars were needed to keep things running in tip-top shape during the day. The idea was: if you work for Shanks for a few years, or prove your worth, in time, you would be turned. Eternal life was quite the sell, especially if it meant centuries of adventure under the Red-Haired Pirate’s jolly roger. It drew countless humans to a life of piracy.

That wasn’t what enticed you, though.

You were happy as a human. The idea of drinking blood and never feeling the warmth of the sun did not appeal to you. What drew you in was the natural charisma of your captain. His voice, his presence, his charm, you fell victim to it all. After one night at a bar together, you knew you would follow him to the ends of the earth, all he needed to do was ask.

And ask, he did.

You knew enough about vampires to know it was easy to fall under their spell. Equipped with an uncanny knack for mind control and manipulation, all it took was a glimmer in their eyes before you were putty in their hand. You had seen it happen before. A single word to a marine back in the East Blue had them leaving in a daze. You recognized that this power could explain your willingness to leave everything behind.

The truth was you trusted Shanks. You never regretted your choice, not for a second. Besides, what use was a captain you second-guessed?

A part of you believed that you were made for him, crafted from the same clay that he was. A bigger part of you wondered how you could ever fall in love with such an idiot. Maybe it was the thrill of wanting someone you could never have, or maybe the attention he gave you left you pliant. Either way, you knew where you belonged. You’d been in his crew for a decade now, following him from the East Blue to the New World, and you had no intention of leaving it any time soon.

Not even as you dragged Shanks’ intoxicated ass in from the deck and to his room before the sun rose.

He was more muscle than man, way too heavy for you to carry so you settled on linking your arms under his armpits and dragging him as fast as you could. Shanks groaned, his stomach surely churning under the weight of the grog and blood he’d consumed throughout the night. You had always found the combination to sound unappetizing, you wondered how Shanks could stand it every night. Then again, he did have a more “refined” palate.

The first pale rays of the sun crested the horizon right as you shut the door to the captain’s quarters. Now all you had to do was dump him in his bed and you’d be free from him for the rest of the day. Your heart panged at the thought. Gently so as not to wake up, you brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

Shanks’ lips twitched, eyes squeezing enough for you to yank your hand back as if he burned you.

“You’re awake.” You tried to keep the indignation from your voice to no avail.

He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “If I say no, will you still help me to bed?”

With a scowl, you dropped him in a heap on the floor, ignoring how his laughter caused a hoard of butterflies to erupt in your chest. Embarrassment at being caught warred with the natural affection you held for your captain. It left you dizzy.

The room was pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted, it was hard to see anything that wasn’t in front of your face. You listened to your captain shuffle to his feet, still unsteady from his earlier drink. Sighing, you offered him your arm. His grip on you was firm, but not rough as he hauled himself upward, still chuckling under his breath. It was easy to forget how he could break your bones with a squeeze of his fist. Shanks could rip you apart like tissue paper if he wanted.

His hand was freezing, even through your shirt. In the dim light, you could barely see the glint of Shanks’ fangs as they poked from between his lips. You couldn’t help but shiver. If Shanks noticed it, he didn’t say anything leaning against your side as you led him to the mattress.

“You’re lucky I like you, captain.”

Shanks ignored you with a hum and buried his nose against your neck. It felt like there was an ice placed directly against your sensitive skin. You swallowed thickly as he took in a deep inhale, his hand curled in your hair, pulling you closer.

“Let me turn you. It’s been too long.”

You rolled your eyes and patted his stubble ridden chin. Shanks leaned into your touch ever so slightly. This was your least favorite conversation, one only brought up when he was drunk these days.

Two years after you joined, Shanks had been incessant. You’d proven yourself time and time again, it was time for you to be given the “gift.” The first time you turned him down, his jaw dropped and you wondered if anyone had ever denied him before. Shanks must have assumed you were shy, offering to drink from your wrist instead of your neck. As time passed, his requests tapered off. Sometimes, though, he would trace your wrinkles, something akin to sadness in his eyes. You tried not to think too hard about those moments; the one’s where you could delude yourself into thinking you were more than a friend.

Tonight was the first night in a long time that Shanks hadn’t taken someone to bed with him. While you didn’t judge him for being promiscuous, it reminded you of where you stood. He could have you anytime he wanted, all he had to do was chase you. You supposed you simply weren’t worth the chase.

“If you want to feed off me, I’ll donate some blood later. For now, bed,” You said, covering up your grown captain with a blanket like he was a child.

“You’re getting old,” Shanks slurred.

You shrugged. “It happens to the best of us.”

After a final pat on his cheek, your captain passed out, drool spilling from his lips. It was easier to ignore his offers when he slept. The more you aged, the more your body ached.

An eternity of pining after a man who would never love you sounded like torture.

—

Once night fell, the ship came to life.

Lights lit up the night, and the smell of booze filled the air as music played. You didn’t know if it was the vampirism or the piracy, but Shanks’ nighttime crew was a rowdy bunch, always yelling, always drinking, always singing, always <i>something<i>. Sure, the human crew were boisterous in their own way, however, they were completely outshone once the moon rose and stars blanketed the velvet sky.

With a yawn, you stretched your aching arms over your head, and waited for the inevitable.

A familiar pair of footsteps approached “Are you headed for bed soon?”

You turned to see your captain staring down at you with a smile, mug filled to the brim with blood. When you patted the spot next to you, Shanks sat down, legs crossed. The red liquid sloshed in his cup, some dribbling down the side. It smelled fresh, likely from today’s drive.

“Is that mine?”

He smirked and took a sip, rolling it around in his mouth as if it was a fancy brew. “What can I say? You’re the most delicious human on the ship.” Shanks’ eyes glimmered before he prodded you on the side. You shrank back with a giggle. “I could just eat you up.”

“Then who would drag you inside when the sun’s coming up.”

Shanks’ eyes softened slightly, his eyes reflecting the moon's rays enough to make them glow. “That is true. Where would I be without you?”

“A pile of ash in the middle of the deck,” You laughed.

“Then where would you be without your beloved captain?”

Knocking your shoulder against Shanks’, you stood with your hands on your hips, “Don’t get too big for your britches. When did I ever say you were beloved?”

Before Shanks could respond, the call for land rang out. You squinted your eyes to see the bundle of lights approaching on the horizon. If you could see it from here, it was sure to be a good sized town, hopefully primed to be overrun by the undead for the night. Or two. Or several. It all depended on how much supplies were needed.

Despite the promise of excitement, your heart sank. You knew what a new island meant. Shanks would party it up in a pub, flirt with people who weren’t you, and inevitably, bring someone to bed. It was a tale as old as time. You would nurse your heartbreak at the bar while your captain drank his worries away, in blood or beer, it depended on if there were any consenting humans around.

Shanks tugged on your arm in an attempt to get you to sit back down, a playful glint in his eyes. “Come drink with me once we land. You always go off by yourself, you don’t have to be so lonely.”

Sit with Shanks so he can see your heart break in real time? You’d rather eat glass. With a laugh, you shook yourself free, though you sat back down next to him, taking care to leave some space between the two of you.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I like my alone time,” You replied.

He chuckled, “And I think you’re lying.”

“What do you know about me, captain?”

Shanks turned to meet your gaze, head tilted to the side and an eyebrow raised. “More than you think.”

It was the cold night air that made you shiver. Nothing more.

“Whatever, you say.” You averted your eyes, unable to stand his stupid grin for much longer. Sharp canines poked from between his lips and you wondered how it would feel to have the graze against your skin. Your face felt hot.

As the ship approached the island, you soaked up Shanks’ presence like a sponge. He was physically cold, but his jokes made you laugh and his smile made you warm. You would only have his attention for a short while before it was turned to some pretty young thing that you could never live up to, it was better to enjoy it while you could.

For now, though, you would take comfort in the fact that no matter who went home with him tonight, it’d be you Shanks spends the early hours with.

—

Three hours later, you wished you were back on the ship.

There you were, as you always seemed to be, hunched over your drink, and glaring daggers at the far wall. Behind you, Shanks had his good arm around a man with a woman leaning against his other shoulder. He was laughing, mouth stained red to match the bite mark on the woman’s collarbone. She looked a little pale, but no worse for wear. Shanks was always careful never to take too much.

Not that you would know. Your worst fear, on the off chance he ever fed off you directly, was that you would make an embarrassing noise. A whine, or god forbid a moan. That would be something you would never live down. Shanks would tease you to hell and back.

“Is this seat taken?” An unknown voice, smooth like butter, asked.

You didn’t bother to turn. “Knock yourself out.”

You heard the stool squeak as it was pulled out. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a dark shape settle next to you. A pale, almost dainty hand cradled a wine glass full of rich, red fluid. You shook slightly when a pair of golden eyes landed on you, realizing who had settled himself next to you.

While you knew of Mihawk, though you never met him personally. He was an old rival (friend?) of Shanks’ who visited the crew every so often. Mihawk never stuck around too long. You figured the captain got to be too much for him to handle, not that you could blame Mihawk for his frustration. As much as you loved the captain, Shanks was especially annoying sometimes.

A booming laugh from behind you made your eye twitch as Shanks pulled the man closer against his side.

Like right now.

“There’s no need to glare. I don’t believe your drink is going anywhere. ”

Your head shot up, blinking a few times at the swordsman. “You never know, odder things have happened.”

Like your captain, he was a vampire. If you didn’t know that before, you sure as hell knew that now. Mihawk was almost ethereal in his beauty, with piercing golden eyes and alabaster skin that seemed to glow in the dim light. His fangs were longer than your captain’s. Where Shanks could almost pass for a human, you knew from a glance what Mihawk was. There was no mistaking it. He was a vampire in peak form and you had his full attention.

You watched Mihawk cock his head to the side, sizing you up. “Odder than a walking mug?”

“We are sitting in a bar full of vampire pirates. My mug could start flying and I wouldn’t blink an eye.”

His lips twitched upwards into an almost imperceptible smile. “What is truly odd is why a beautiful creature such as yourself is sitting all alone. Don’t you know there are predators about?”

“I’m with Shanks.” You didn’t have to say anything more than that. Both of you knew no one would dare feed from a human that belonged to Red-Haired Shanks.

“Are you now? It’s a shame it took me so long to make your acquaintance.”

Narrowing your eyes, you studied Mihawk while he watched you in return. Though your gaze was intense, your smile was easy. You were enjoying the banter. “That’s funny, because I know you know who I am. I’ve been on Shanks’ crew for over a decade now, and I wouldn’t have escaped your notice for so long.”

Mihawk’s expression shifted to what could only be described as pleased. “You’d be right. Shanks talks about you <i>incessantly<i>. Now I see why.”

You couldn’t help but flush. It hadn’t processed that Mihawk took your hand in his until his lips pressed against the back of it. That only served to make your face burn hotter.

Before you could respond, Mihawk’s lips twitched into a smirk. “That expression on you is enchanting.”

“A-Are you flirting with me,” You stammered. It had been a long time since someone had shown interest in you. Sure, people were friendly, but genuine flirtation was hard to come by. To have someone as beautiful as Mihawk giving you attention made your head spin.

He gave you a slight smirk, muttering into his skin, “Now I see your captain isn’t the only one at fault here.”

There was a sharp prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Mihawk must have felt it too because his eyebrow twitched. Whatever you expected when you turned, it wasn’t Shanks glaring daggers at the man in front of you, his pupils barely visible slits. He looked dangerously mad.

Mihawk gently turned your hand over to reveal the inside of your wrist. Right on your pulse point, he took a deep inhale, savoring you as if you were a fine wine. “Ignore him. He’s a child who's had his favorite toy taken away.”

“Y/N is not my toy.” Before you could blink, your back was pressed against Shanks’ chest. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you against him as Mihawk’s fingers tightened around your wrist. Shanks pressed his nose in your hair, lips against your ear. “Is he bothering you? Say the word and he leaves.”

“No, no not at all. We were just talking.”

Shanks squeezed you against him. “He was looking at you like you were a meal.”

“Hilarious coming from the captain who forbade his crew from drinking their blood,” Mihawk said. “I always knew you didn’t like to share your food, Red-Hair, but this is ridiculous.”

“Wait, were you flirting or were you hungry,” You asked, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice. Both men noticed, Mihawk responding with amusement and Shanks by tightening his grip on your shoulders.

“Why couldn’t it have been both?”

A low growl rumbled in Shanks’ chest. “You are not eating my crewmate.”

Mihawk ignored him, piercing your eyes with his own. “Originally, I introduced myself with the intention to meddle, but you have captivated me, Y/N.” His thumb rubbed cool circles around your pulse. “What do you have to say about that? Surely, you can take responsibility.”

“Um.” Stuck between two gorgeous men, one audibly snarling at the other, you couldn’t begin to reign in your thoughts. “That’s very sweet.”

Shanks must have felt you trembling and assumed it was from fear. His hold on you loosened, hand rubbing soothingly against your upper arm.

“It’s not sweet, it’s creepy,” He argued. “You’re scaring them.”

“Actually, he’s been very kind.” You leaned your head back to look at his face in time to see Shanks’ eyebrows jump in surprise.

Mihawk cocked his head to the side. “Unlike you, Red-Hair. How many times have you left this adorable little human by the wayside to take others to your bed.”

“They don’t care about that, we have our thing.” Shanks looked at you, expectant. “Right?”

Your brow furrowed. “What ‘thing?’”

“Our thing,” Shanks insisted. “Our cat and mouse. I chase, you push me away, I keep chasing. It’s been going on for years.”

Flipping around to face him, you fought to keep your jaw off the floor. “Shanks, are you telling me that you think we have had a ‘cat and mouse’ romance brewing for the better part of a decade?”

“Are you telling me you don’t know?”

“You sleep around all the time, but you never make any advances towards me! How am I supposed to know you’re interested in me when you flirt with anything that has a pulse?” You hung your head and sighed. “I’ve spent all this time pining over an unrequited love that isn’t even unrequited.”

“I always thought you weren’t ready for that step, I was waiting for you to initiate.” Shanks looked more flustered than you’d ever seen him. It was strange to see your normally confident captain flounder. “I can be patient when I want.” He paused for a moment, swallowing hard. “I had no idea that was how you felt. I’m sorry.”

Mihawk interrupted by slipping around you to stand beside Shanks. “As amusing as this is, I have a proposition for Y/N.”

You ignored Shanks’ pout and turned your attention to Mihawk. “And that is?”

“Allow me to take you on a date.”

Shanks butt in before you could respond. “Let me take you on a date. I want to make it up to you and I have ten years to make up for.”

You had two options before you. Your long time love, who idiotically strung you along with his poor communication skills, or the handsome vampire you met at the bar who may or may not eat you. You were a lowly human in the face of a supernatural choice. At times, you were sure you would wake up back at the ship, the entire night having been a dream.

Truthfully, it wasn’t hard to make your decision, you already knew what you wanted.

With a smile, you said, “Why don’t you both take me out tomorrow night?”

The two men shared a glance, the spark of old rivalry flashing across their faces before they gave you their answer. Shanks with a one-armed hug, and Mihawk with a final kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s a date.”

#one piece x reader #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x you #mihawk x you #.jesterwrites #i actually wrote the majority of this while watching bar rescue but didnt want to put that in the playlist section

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lettersfromverabookreview · 4 months

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The Percy Jackson Saga

What a saga! I´ve still yet to finish it (while writing this, but i´ll post it when I finish it), but it´s SO fun, such a light read.

My history with Percy Jackson series has MANY comes and goes and it intercepts with many characters of my life that definitely not align with the Percy Jackson books at ALL. Seriously, If by any chance you´re a pre-teen reading this and you seem to be a bully who reads percy jackson, why do you think percy has SUCH a bad time in the school?? Anyway, getting over the personal comment….

I was mainly attracted to it because the series has come out (watch it !! its definitely interesting) but the nostalgia has come back with a kick and I definitely relate to little Percy, Annabeth and Grover (none of them would love me calling them little, but they are kids!!! Give them a SECOND of peace please), a little misunderstood, a little lost, not only when I was a teenager, but now on my 20s I can def relate (in a sense) to this lost feeling.

I doubt it ever goes away, Hell (or Hades?), Its difficult even to the gods what is happening in the books!! Everyone has to make tough decisions every once in a while, sometimes is whether to have the literal sky to help the goddess Artemis to fight Atlas, sometimes is leaving a job!

And I definitely relate to the strand of white hair after going trough the stress. And yes, everyone has a difficult choice and sometimes some are tougher than others, (like cmon… my job change example its what Ive been going through but Im guessing that maybe having the sky on your back may be a lil more difficult) but difficult choices are difficult choices, and these books have helped me, at least, to get anxious over whether Percy was going to be able to save his mom, instead of me getting anxious of my life choices.

I´m sure that anybody reading this may be going through a tough time (I mean, not to wish that upon you, and if you say “nah thanks i´m good, having the best time of my life” great for you!!) and i definitely believe that these books may seem focused for children, and yes, the repetition of what happened the last books that appears in every book after the first one, it sure is annoying, but overall its a huge break for the brain! Its a nice reading, a nostalgic one, and a hug to the heart.

A good reminder that good friends are worth lifting the sky and more, that families may not be what we always expect, that blue food is DOPE, that what we see may not always be what it truly is, that friends are not always what they seem to be, and that enemies (or people who we are taught are “enemies”) may not always be enemies.

[Finally, as a last comment since I´ve finished reading now] Sometimes it is not only good but necessary to go back to your child-self. To embrace new experiences with the forgiveness of a mother, the strength of an adult, but also for the inner ability of a kid that's learning how to walk, to stand immediately back up and continue trying. Embrace your strength but also your weaknesses, continue always learning, get around people you would sacrifice yourself for. Remember that its good and also essential to rest (sometimes on a lost island surrounded by the daughter of Kronos that's actually good and leaves you with a bunch of questions), and never forget to get back home (or at give out a sign when you're well so that everyone around you knows that you´re fine, turning the light blue of the Empire State can be an example).

If you´re going through high school, read this.

If you´re a lil lost, read this.

If you´re pretty sure you may be a lost child to a Greek god, yeah sure, but also read this.

If you wanna learn more about greek myths! I mean they are not super explained sometimes, but they sure deserve a good google search afterwards, which is good brain food!

If you really like sloooooow burn romances, yeah maybe you may like this (super far from the actual trama of the story but its so TRUE how long Percy takes to realize y´know…the thing)

If you like cute Cyclops, who are NOT murder machines, read this!!

And you must definitely read this if you like the water!! -Vera

#percy jackson #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #annabeth chase #percy jackson spoilers #percy jackon and the olympians #grover underwood #pjo spoilers #pjo tv show #book review #booklr #booklover #book life #booklaunch

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

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HI 🫶🏻🫶🏻 it’s the mind reader anon !! can i please request for “I’m not as good as you think I am.” X “Maybe, but you’re everything to me.” OR “nobody needs me,” x “i need you.” with bucky barnes?

YEAH SURE USING AN EMOJI DIDNT COME TO MIND BUT im gonna use this from now on 🐙

— 🐙

I HAD 3 CUPS OF STRAIGHT BLACK COFFEE AND WROTE THE WEIRDEST THING I'VE EVER... EVERED. HERE IT IS!! I'M SO SCARED OF MY OWN BRAIN RIGHT NOW!! I LOVE YOU!!

the eggs benedict to your mass production

college! himbo!bucky x tutor! cynical!reader (and both of them are stupid) notes: absolute crack, it's all just infatuated bucky going from himbo to educated, emotionally mature feminist king like every other word, mutual pining, swearing, a shit ton of dialogue but it's good fucking dialogue, dramatic bucky, you're stupid, he's kind of stupid but like no, just read it and find out i swear it's worth it

w/c: 2k .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. “you’re really good at this, you know,” bucky whispered, his peppermint breath caressing your face. he was tucked into your side, one elbow on the table, one arm around your chair—sure, maybe it was a bit too close to be professional, but neither of you was complaining.

“thanks,” you murmured, not bothering to glance up and meet his eye, partially because you were concentrated on the work in front of you, and partially because you knew you’d get flustered and expose your big, fat crush on the boy who’d, for some reason, was taken by you.

well, not “taken,” exactly. he wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, though both of you wished that could be true; both of you also did not realize your feelings were reciprocated. in more specific terms, he was taken, as in ‘awed by,’ your determination.

whether that be your raised hand, steady and confident in class, or the quick wit that you weren’t afraid to weaponize against anybody who dared challenge you, or even the determination you’d initially had to avoid him.

bucky knew he wasn’t exactly in your league, so to speak. your social circles might as well be different planets, but he figured you were an actual planet and he was your moon, circling around you, forever and ever trapped in your gravitational orbit. (at least, that’s the comparison he would make if he was passing physics.)

and that’s how you’d met him. you had lingered after class was dismissed to finish writing down the last of your notes, while bucky had hung back because the teacher needed to talk to him about his grades. to bucky’s delight, the refreshingly disinterested girl who would’ve never given him a second glance without necessity was the tutor that your teacher had recommended.

call him a masochist, but he loved that you treated him with just as much disdain as you treated the rest of his friends. it was… an unpopular opinion. att least, his friends—consisting of three-quarters of alpha delta theta and a little less than half the school’s men’s lacrosse team—certainly thought so.

bucky shifted in his seat, sending another wave of his cologne your way. you tried not to show how much he was affecting you, but you broke immediately when the arm he’d been resting on the back of your chair had finally snaked itself over until his fingers had settled on your shoulders. he began massaging small, slow circles into your skin, and you thought you might melt and mold yourself into the chair.

“okay, i- i think this is pretty good.” you scooted your chair away from him just an inch with reluctance; he smelled wonderful and had a warm presence and was so, so lovely… however, you were here to help him with physics, not get seduced. (though you’d obviously prefer the latter.)

a momentary flash of disappointment—or was that hurt?—crossed his face before it settled into its usual expression; in other words, he was gorgeous and he knew it.

“it’s not pretty good,” bucky took the paper from your hands with his eyebrows pinched in concentration. your stomach sank. “it’s amazing, doll. how are you- fuck, why do are you so beautiful and so, so smart? you’re killing me, here.”

you begged to differ. you were the one on the verge of combustion.

you pursed your lips to hide the embarrassingly exposing beam that threatened to escape and reveal your hopeless affinity for a man who was obviously out of your league. you wanted to hate bucky, you really, really did, but it made sense why he was able to pull whichever strings he wanted to. he was charismatic, confident, and had a way of leaving people in a dreamy, delirious daze that made them vulnerable to whatever kind of intention bucky had. he’d passed numerous classes that he had decidedly failed, slept with too many people to count—his pool was endless; male and female both—and had somehow managed to talk himself out of a suspension after he’d managed to break a window.

so was it wrong to be wary of his advances? as far as you knew, he was still “talking” to your roommate’s ex-boyfriend’s lab partner (though it seemed as if not many words were being exchanged in their ‘conversations’) and supposedly was hooking up with the quarterback.

but those could be rumors, your inner naive schoolgirl with a crush said. rumors have an element of truth to them, your rational side said. you interact with less than half the number of people he’s friends with, your cynical side said, and he’s only talking to you so he can go back to his theta kappa beta alpha friends and make fun of you.

“bucky, i appreciate the… compliments, i really do. and i mean this with, uh, kindness, but don’t you think it’s a little… immature? manipulative? i don’t know, i just-”

this time, the crestfallen look on bucky’s face lingered, and it was most definitely one of hurt. “manipulative? sweetheart, i’d never manipulate you into anything, oh god no! i don’t und-”

“well, you’re always making fun of me so you can get some reaction out of me, and i don’t understand the appeal of trying to- to fluster somebody for entertainment, and maybe it makes this whole ‘tutoring session’ more interesting for you, but damn it, that’s not fair to me!” you snapped, eyes narrowed with malice.

you expected bucky to reciprocate. to hiss at you, or deny it, or make some vaguely misogynistic comment, but he just sat there, like a kicked puppy that had also been caught in the rain. he licked his lips enticingly and his eyes flickered down to… your lips? was that it?

the gall of him, to continue to mock you even after you’d confronted him.

bucky laughed bitterly, shaking his head. his knee was bouncing and it was giving you secondhand anxiety. “i can’t- ha, i can’t believe you’d think that’s what- have i not been obvious enough? i don’t understand why- why you don’t understand. i like you, a lot, actually. i have since the first week of physics when you told the professor he was wrong and then pulled out evidence.

“why would you think that i’m…” he looked at you incredulously, “making fun of you? if anything, you’re the one who’s teasing me! i’ve been trying to, well, yeah, i’ve been trying to get a reaction out of you so i can see if you feel the same way!

“and you always seem to do this little routine, where i’ll try and ask you out or- or tell you that you look pretty, or ask you questions about yourself and you do this fucking scrunch,” he pointed to his face, “on your nose, and it kills me. and it kills me that you always scoff at me like i’m nothing but you’re like… the whole world, or something. you’re like, the bonnie to my clyde.”

you bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling, not wanting to spoil his rant. “bonnie and clyde were serial killers,” you whispered amusedly. bucky looked at you, took a mental note, and continued without correcting himself.

“you’re the… apple to my eye. the chicken to my egg. and the… alpha theta to my kappa beta. and i think you’re incredible, i really do, but you won’t even give me the time of day. so yeah, i don’t understand why you think i’m the one manipulating you.

“there’s obviously a social power dynamic here,” bucky added, waving his hands around like that would help make his point clearer. “you’re cool and smart and people love you, and i’m like, a piece of shit, kinda. so i guess it makes sense why you don’t like me.

but that’s beside the point. you have the dominant position in this relationship because you’re the one tutoring me; therefore, my performance relies on your decisions. you wield the power of controlling my gpa or whatnot. and did i mention that you’re smart and pretty? so basically, you’re just better than me which means in society, aka the individual social bubble that is every academic institution, you have more, um, influence than i do. you’re like, the prefect, and i’m the dude you report for breaking curfew. or you’re like, the ta, and i’m the guy whose essay you rip apart.

‘cause you’re like, shit, you’re so wow. and i’m so, wow,” he said the second bit with exaggerated sarcasm and a dramatic eye roll. “and i learned about all this in women’s studies, so if you think i’m pulling this out of my ass, go talk to bell hooks and simone de beauvoir, alright? i’m not, like, trying to manipulate you into a date or anything—not that i’d complain about getting a date, or like, just a shot, and i mean shot as in chance, not as in alcohol—i just really like you. like, like-like you.”

bucky took a deep, shuddering breath after his profession of infatuation. you gaped, probably comparable to a fish, at the frat-adjacent, notorious fuckboy, and delectable specimen of a man in front of you who also took women’s studies and also seemed to genuinely want to take you out on a date—though you weren’t particularly sure about the second one since his explanation was very long and not very easy to follow—that you’d severely misjudged.

“i-” you sputtered, for once, out of wit. “that’s so… nice.” you fiddled with the paper that the two of you had been working on. you could hear the sound of bucky’s heart shattering from where you sat.

you hung your head in your hands, bewildered. “okay, you said you didn’t understand what i said but now i’m not understanding what you said because you’re saying i’m all… admired and intellectual and alluring and, powerful, even, but i- i’m not. bucky, i’m literally sitting in the library tutoring you on a subject i suck at because i have no other weekend plans and because i’ve been bullshitting my way through this class and the professor just so happened to eat it up.

“i don’t know what i’m doing either, bucky. i’m not- i’m not as good as you think i am. i’m… if we’re going back to that stupid chicken-egg analogy, you’re like a crowing morning rooster and i’m an egg produced by a capitalist’s hellish factory farm that’s dropped on the ground and will probably grow mold before someone cleans it up.” you paused. “oh wow, that was a way worse metaphor than yours, wasn’t it?”

bucky shook his head, a brilliant, dopey smile slowly growing on his face. “no. no, that was… so beautiful. you’re so smart,” he insisted, and it seemed like he genuinely believed it. “you think you’re some- some rotten egg, but to me, you’re an eggs benedict that’s been approved by gordon ramsey. you keep saying all these self-deprecating things and y’know, my therapist says that’s really bad for your subconscious perception of yourself and your value, and i know i just said that you’re smart but you’re actually being so stupid right now. because i think you’re really awesome. so…”

bucky swung his legs under his seat, which was really awkward because his legs were already so long that his knees were brushing the top of the table, so it looked more like he was trying to kick the table apart.

“can i kiss you?” bucky breathed, eyes scanning your face with pure adoration.

“absolutely not,” you grimaced, planting your hand on his face and pushing it away. “don’t push it. but… how does dinner at 7 tonight sound? not the cafeteria shit, i’ll take you somewhere nice. and don’t get it twisted, i’m asking you out, okay?”

bucky nodded eagerly, going from kicked, wet puppy to newly-adopted, instagram account worthy puppy. “i- wow, thank you! wow. i’m so- yes, i will be there. should i get flowers or are you going to do the flowers thing? because i really like you a lot and i don’t want to mess this up and-”

“i’ll do the flowers. and the picking you up. and if you’re a good boy, maybe you’ll get a kiss at the end of the night. does that sound okay?”

it sounded more than okay to bucky.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

bucky barnes masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: (comment to be added!)

@bambamwolf87 @yourallihave @im-a-slut-for-fluff

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #college bucky barnes #bucky barnes college au #bucky barnes university au #bucky barnes college athlete #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes cracfic

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unusualfanbase · 3 months

Text

I'm sorry my insane thirsty creatures aka pookies I have your meal ( aka chapter 2 🥰)

Five x f!reader

SORRY IM SO SORRY POOKIES I WAS PROCRASTINATING but now I have chapter two and I hope yall like it.

Summary: You were born on October 1st 1989 and you had powers your mother forced you to go to the funeral and that's when you met him

⚠️ warning ⚠️: Blood, gore, weapons, mention of drugs, and five himself is a warning 😀

In the kitchen the boy was making a sandwich you stepped aside not wanting to intrude on a family matter. To intertain yourself you got into an argument with venom whether poptarts or waffles are better. The boy started walking up to you halfway into the argument so you paused. From what you could gather his name was Five hargreeves. He locked eyes with venom. Venom chose violence today. "You know little boy its rude to stare at your elders?". Fives face changed from confusion to irateion. The boy faced you instead "Who are you? What is that? And why are you here?" He seemed ready to throw fists but you weren't in the mood. " im y/n l/n this is venom my mother wanted me to come to this funeral.". He wasn't done yet. "How are you able to do that and how should I trust you?" You were going to start getting annoyed by his attitude. "You don't have to trust me because I have people that do and I was born on October 1st 1989 like the rest of you except I have two powers which makes me better." You finished of with a sly smile he didn't like what you had to say " if it makes you feel better im not from the commission I just read minds." He looked at you shocked after that Klaus was in the back yelling about how you were his new bestie or something.

There was tension between the two of you until Diego cut in. "Y/n can you read our minds?". You got confused for a sec " wait wait a minute. So what your telling me is that you want me to read your minds and clear you to make sure you didn't kill your dad?" Luther wasn't the happiest with Diego's idea but he thought it was worth the shot. Diego was nodding at your statement. You sighed "... fine as long as I get * your fav food*" Diego thought for a sec " deal" you shook Diegos hand. Diego looked like a kid at his first time at Disney land. You began with Luther " whos mind is she reading? Maybe Diegos right and I'm being over dramatic." You repeated what Luther had said and did everyone else . "There all done now you owe me * fav food again*" Five stepped to close to your personal space for you to be comfortable " how do we know she didn't do it?" He stated. Venom thought it was his time to shine. Still running on violence venom answered. "I can volunteer to answer she and her lonesome dumb ass didn't leave her house all week unless it was for work and spent most of her time watching dance moms and let's not forget those fan fic-" you started to panic at those last words you covered his mouth and quickly pulled away " EWW WTF DID YOU JUST LICK MY HAND--"

Hope you enjoyed sorry for the long wait hope you enjoyed 😊 ☺ see ya pookies 😚

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua x reader #five hargreaves x reader

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watery-melon-baller · 1 year

Note

3, 7, and 40 for weekend and belos'

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

ooooh theres so many i would never touch. the first one that comes to mind is accidental pregnancy which like. i dont even write romance much. also hate student/teacher. uhh nonromance id go with. uh. i cannot think of anything rn lmao

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

ooooh id have to go with a snippet from a shera fic i did a while back. torn between two but ill go with the shorter one just because. not sure what counts as a snippet oops.

"Adora rolls her eyes, but stands up to join them. As she runs over, she knows that she’ll trip over her dress several times, and their clothes will all be covered in grass stains that will take forever to wash out. But Adora is here, in a future where there is no war to fight, where they can laugh freely and love and she doesn't feel selfish anymore for wanting a happy ending."

bad at explaining myself but like. its the potential of a happy ending, of not everything being perfect but it good, and thats worth living for. its a whole metaphor about feminity and wartime and accepting yourself. that its okay to be safe now, its okay to be soft and vulnerable and to start healing. apologies for being incoherent

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

ohohohohhohho you know whats funny. i actually did have an alternate ending planned where hunter just. slept through the rebelllion and just woke up after it was over and was like "what the fuck." anyways i sat down and wrote this in a night (ive been saving the ask until it was finished so thats why im answering it late sorry!) so enjoy 2k words of that under the cut. apologies for typos i tried my best to read this over lmao. you can also read this on ao3 now yipee

Hunter stared at his clock, and scowled. Shit. He had 20 minutes until the coven head meeting!

He stood up, quickly scrambling for his notes. He wanted to try and get there early, so he could figure out somewhat of a plan.

Flapjack lifted their head up, disrupted from their slumber. What is boy doing?

His foot slipped on a piece of paper, and he barely managed to catch himself on the edge of his desk. “I have a meeting! I need to go talk to the other coven heads, and-”

Have time! Should rest!

He scowled. “Flapjack, I don’t have time to rest! I need to prepare my notes! I still haven’t figure out what I’m going to say to Terra, or Adrian, or how to deal with the recent riots-”

Nap time! Boy too tired to think!

“You always say it’s nap time.”

Because boy is always tired!

He sighed, flopping back on his bed and letting the stack of papers in his arms scatter onto the floor. Flapjack did have a bit of a point. He had been staying up later and later, getting less sleep in favor of trying to take care of… well, everything.

He could get ready in ten minutes. It wouldn’t take long to teleport. Just closing his eyes for a few minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. And he wouldn’t actually fall asleep. He would just lay here!

“Just ten minutes. Then I have to go.”

Flapjack chirped. Nap! Nap!

“Not a nap, Flap,” He mumbled. “M just resting my eyes.”

He didn’t even realize he was falling asleep.

___

He woke up to the smell of smoke.

He shot up out of bed, head swiveling as he took stock of the room. Everything seemed to be in order, except-

“FLAPJACK!”

The bird had at some point moved inside his shirt. They peeked their head out, looking adorable as always, but Hunter wasn’t fooled.

He glared at them. “I said ten minutes.”

Boy needed nap!

He pointed at the window. “IT’S DARK OUTSIDE NOW! IT’S NIGHTTIME!”

Not that late. Sun just set. More like evening!

He dragged a hand down his face and groaned. “Flapjack. I missed the coven head meeting. The one thing I cannot, under any circumstances, miss.”

Flapjack did not look even remotely apologetic.

Hunter sighed, standing up and brushing back his hair. The smell of smoke was still lingering in the air, and he poked his head out the window, following the smell.

Ah. That might be a problem.

The area of the castle where Terra and Adrian had been fighting the other day looked even worse than before, mainly because it was on fire. Several scouts were running around in a panic, and if he listened closely, he could hear the faint sound of screaming.

Flapjack had moved to sit on his desk, and he slowly turned to glare at them. “Flapjack.”

They chirped.

“This is why we don’t skip coven head meetings! Look at what happened while I was asleep. The castle is on fire!” He sighed.

Could be worse!

He flung his arms out, staring the bird down in frustration. “How could this be worse?!”

The Titan must have thought that was funny, because at that moment his door was slammed open with a war cry.

“GOLDEN GUARD!”

Something (someone?) charged through his door, and he screeched, barely avoiding their tackle. Whoever it was slammed into his wall, sending feathers flying everywhere. Why there were feathers, he didn’t know. Maybe they were because of the large wings that were almost smacking him in the face.

Flapjack screeched, dive bombing the intruder, and Hunter quickly scrambled back, grabbing a heavy textbook detailing the criminal justice system and hurling it at their face. They shouted in pain, falling back onto the floor, and Hunter decided that was his cue to go.

He skidded out into the hallway, his slippers barely staying on his feet, while Flapjack circled nervously around his head. Behind him, he could hear the sound of the mystery attacker getting up, and he risked a glimpse behind him as Flapjack transformed into a staff.

“Golden Guard, kid, wait a second-”

Their voice sounded somewhat familiar, but he was too busy grabbing his staff. The last thing he saw before teleporting away into a haze of golden light was what looked to be some kind of harpy woman, heading straight for him.

He bounced across the castle, not having much of a destination in mind besides something that was away from the harpy lady. He materialized in a small room with dim lighting, and as he leaned against the brick walls he realized he was in the break room.

There were technically several break rooms scattered around the castle, but those were all empty storage closets scouts had converted into a break room in their free time with their own money. (Hunter may or may not have contributed to them with money from the castle treasury). This, however, was the official break room, the one all the coven heads used, and the one that the Emperor made somewhat of an attempt to maintain.

He hadn’t been here in a couple weeks, with the whole “accidentally killed my Uncle and now running the government from my bedroom” issue. Not much had changed since the last time he was here. The table was still stained, one of the chairs still had a wobbly leg, the sink was still dripping water because no one knew how to fix the leak, there were still a few spare coven cloaks lying in a pile on the floor, and the fridge still had several post-its about labeling your food properly and not letting it sit in the fridge for months and stink up the room.

The bulletin board, however, had a few changes. The ‘days since Kikimora tried to assassinate someone’ board had been reduced back to zero (last time he saw it it was at 11, which was a new record), and there were several notes stating that due to being understaffed, everyone would be getting extra shifts. Which was weird, because Hunter thought he was in charge of scheduling guard shifts, but he had handed off so many of his duties to Kikimora and random coven captains that he wasn’t sure anymore. Also, why had no one told him they were understaffed?

Someone had also brought in cookies, and there were still a few left. Yay! He grabbed one from the box, biting into it.

“Want a piece? Its chocolate cricket flavor.” He broke off a small chunk, offering it to the palisman, who began gleefully pecking it. He finished eating the rest of the cookie, wandering over to the sink.

He smacked the faucet, hoping that maybe this time it would stop the leaking, but it did nothing. Like it did every time. He sighed, and turned towards the clawfee machine, turning it on. Next to the sink was a small collection of drying dishes, one of which included a mug that said ‘world’s best nephew’ in hot pink script.

“Hey Flapjack, I found my favorite mug!” He picked it up, thankfully finding it clean. He had been searching for that mug for weeks! Although, it seemed a bit inaccurate, with the whole ‘killed my uncle’ and ‘being a grimwalker of his brother’ thing. Nope, that was a problem for another time.

He shrugged, watching as the clawfee pot came to a boil. Flapjack was hopping around the table, pecking the various crumbs that had been left behind. Hunter should probably be stopping them, but he figured if Flapjack had survived this long with such little self preservation, they would probably be fine.

Probably.

He poured the clawfee into his mug, and moved to sit down in a chair. The good chair, not the one with the wobbly leg that made you rock back and forth every time you moved the slightest inch.

He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and stared vacantly at the wall. “So,” he said calmly. “I think there might be a rebellion going on right now.”

Flapjack chirped anxiously. Hunter stared at the bird. “You know, this is why we don’t skip coven head meetings.”

He sipped on his clawfee, savoring the bitter taste. Oh, sweet caffeine, how he missed it. Having energy was fantastic.

“I should probably go out there and deal with that.”

Or don’t! Don’t risk yourself!

“Flapjack, I don’t think that's an option.”

Run away to woods! Can hunt for worms!

“I can’t eat worms! You can hunt all you want, I’ll forage for berries.”

Good plan!

Hunter groaned. “Terrible plan.” It wasn't like he had any ideas. He had been slowly preparing a runaway bag, but he had hoped he would have a few more weeks before he had to use it. This was his punishment for procrastinating.

He stood up, taking a long swig of the coffee. “Okay, my stuff is in my room. Let’s see if we can try to sneak back there, and if anyone is still alive.” He looked down at himself, grimacing at his lack of armor. He was still in his PJS!

Hesitantly, he lifted one of the coven scout cloaks from the pile on the floor, checking it over. There didn’t appear to be any visible stains, so he shrugged, putting it on.

Flapjack chirped, and fluttered on top of his head. Hunter sighed, but said nothing, pulling up his hood to cover the bird. He opened the door and hesitantly peeked his head out. There didn’t seem to be anyone, so he stepped out into the hallway, letting the door shut behind him.

Picking a random direction, he began walking, the only sound being his bunny slippers slapping against the tile. He nervously clutched his cloak, suddenly beginning to regret every decision he had ever made that had led him to this situation.

He rounded a corner to see a hallway that looked very much destroyed. A section of the ceiling had collapsed, and plants and abomination goo was everywhere. Several coven scouts were lying unconscious on the floor.

Hunter bit his lip, and with a start realized he was still holding his mug. There was still a little bit of clawfee in it, so he could throw it at someone and run if he needed to. The perfect weapon. What a plan.

He froze at the sound of footsteps, frantically looking for a place to hide. He slid behind a pile of rubble, hoping that he would just be mistaken for an unconscious scout.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and then stopped. “I could have sworn I heard something over here,” a familiar voice muttered. Oh shit.

Hunter involuntarily flinched, shifting the rubble he was hiding behind with his movement.

“Over there!” Oh, he recognized that voice too, although it was only marginally better than the first one. Maybe if he stayed very very still, they wouldn’t notice him?

He yelped as abomination goo wrapped around his legs, dragging him out into the open and pinning his arms to his side. He scowled at the awkward angle his arm was held at, the clawfee slowly dripping out of his mug and onto the floor.

Darius crossed his arms, lifting an eyebrow at Hunter. “Ah, Little prince. You’re looking… unwell.”

Hunter, very maturely, stuck out his tongue, something that only caused Darius’s scowl to deepen.

Behind Darius, Luz cheerfully waved at him. “Hi Hunter! You kind of caught us at a bad time.” She turned down the hallway, cupping a hand to her mouth. “HEY GUYS, WE FOUND HUNTER! OVER HERE!”

Darius winced at her yelling, rubbing his ears. Hunter wished he could do the same, because wow Luz could shout loud.

The two of them turned back to face him and he grimaced. “Uh, hi?” He said awkwardly. Maybe they would be nice and just kill him right away. Luz could probably convince them not to hurt Flapjack.

Luz shoved her hands in her pockets, grinning casually. “Hunter, my man! I’ve been looking for you! Sorry about the whole, uh, overthrowing the government thing.”

‘It’s fine,” He said, even though it was very much not fine. “It was already falling apart anyways.”

Darius stepped towards him, frowning. “About that, actually. We have quite a few questions to ask you, Golden Guard.”

Luz’s grin became just a bit more shaky. “Not bad questions! Just, uh, questions. It’ll be great!” She did not sound convinced of her own words. “It’s fine.”

Hunter sighed. He should have just stayed in bed. This was all Flapjack’s fault. He was never trusting that adorable little bird again, no matter how cute they were.

#fanfic #ask game #toh #weekend at belos's #lilac post #writing #can't believe none of you bothered to mention the numerous typos I had to go back and edit :(

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aaronstveit · 6 months

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hi! ive been around for awhile now but never said hi to u off anon jdkdmdjd

how are you?

okay question, how do you read so many books? i used to be a bookworm in middle school but then high school and depression happened and i lost the ability to focus. im adhd so its not surprising but none of the tricks people recommend works for my brain. i sit down to read and after two words im like "okay nevermind."

i really like audio books but i miss actually Reading the words myself you know? there is a difference between them for sure and i also notice i remember the new words and phrases better when im actually reading them instead of just hearing them.

you read a lot so i thought maybe any advice you have might help me? its worth a shot to ask jfkdkdjd no pressure tho. <3

omg hi!!🫶🏻 i'm good, how are you? <33

i was exactly the same! couldn't stop reading in elementary & middle school, then high school completely destroyed my love of reading & learning. it's honestly taken me years to get back to being an avid read and to enjoying it </3

i'm lucky to have a lot of free time. i also have a lot of sleeping problems & end up unable to sleep around 2am most nights, so i get a lot of reading done from like 9pm-2am. it's not ideal to my sleeping schedule and i definitely don't recommend it, that's just one of the ways that i end up reading so much.

i think cossette @hollyfhumberstone has a phenomenal post here about tips for reading more that i definitely refer to when i find myself in a reading slump!

for me, it really helps to set a daily goal for reading. i use the finch app and every day i set goals to read at least one chapter of whatever it is that i'm reading. there is no punishment for missing a goal, but there are rewards for accomplishing them, and that helps me! like right now, i'm reading wuthering heights, which i've put off reading forever because it intimidates me. so i set a goal of just reading one chapter a day so i can get through it. sometimes i'll read two chapters a day, especially if they're short, but it's easier to get my brain to do it because i've taken the pressure off myself, if that makes sense! a lot of my reading is really about tricking my brain into letting me do it tbh.

i also let myself take breaks between chapters, even when i'm sitting down to read for a few hours! if i finish a chapter and i want to check social media or play solitaire on my phone for a second or get a snack or something, i just do it. i know some people really try not to look away from their book for certain amounts of time, but that doesn't work for me because then i'll be looking at the words but i'll just be thinking about doing something else the entire time.

one of my favorite things to do is talk about the books i'm reading, so that helps me, too! i talk to my dad and my friends about books, which always hypes me up to read more. if you ever wanna talk about books with me, my DMs and asks are always open! i literally just LOVE talking books, even if i haven't read them yet!

setting reading goals works for me too, but i tend to set running goals instead of definitive goals. like, i'll set my goodreads goal for x number of books each year, but the rest of my goals are not numerical. they're more like "read more diversely," "read more classics," "read more science fiction," "read more fantasy," "read more historical fiction," and "read more nonfiction." (those are my goals for 2024 btw). that way i'm not chasing a number, i'm just broadening my horizons!

what has really helped me the last couple of years was finding genres i enjoyed and getting really into them. i discovered i like mystery, thriller, and horror books a lot more than other genres, so that's most of what i've been reading! i still run into books i don't like, and i still branch out and find some incredible books in other genres, but i'm done forcing myself to read what's popular just for the sake of it.

oooh and another thing i do when i can't get myself interested in a new book is to reread an old favorite. i reread the hunger games pretty much every year when i find myself in a reading slump, because i know that series will keep me interested no matter how many times i've read it. annotating old favorites also works for me! i annotated thg this year, the raven cycle last year, and i think next year i will try annotating lord of the rings!

i hope this helps! i wish i could give you some better advice </3 if you have any other questions, please let me know!! 🫶🏻

#thank you!#answered #charlieisverybored #love letters only💛

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i-sveikata · 6 months

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Hola my dear autor Thank you so much for the amazing chapter 💯😚👌🏻Wanted to post this since long ago but let me tell you that I spent all that first Sunday reading it and when was time for go to bed I just HAD TO finish it and it was totally worth the wait. Poor Pete it was his time to insist like a looot to Vegas to finally open his eyes and not do what he was doing. Like I'm really impress with his perseverance 😅 he never give up on Vegas 🥺 but really Kan had to die so Vegas could be free of his father because 😖 he really didn't want to stop the coup not even for Pete 💔When you write that note never imagined THAT level of make up hahaha like boys there is some gunfire in the same room as you 🙄😆 but well Pete did everything in his power to deter Vegas ☹️As a favor for VegasPete 😉 absolutely not to me😉 they deserve the fuck of their lives 🤭 😉 Pete totally letting it go and being true to his desires Thank you thank you thank you for the story, I really don't want it to end, all this past months omg noooo 😭 and btw Congratulations on its first anniversary!!!🎉✨

hellllllllloooooo anon!! ah youre so very welcome and im so glad you dedicated so much time to it as soon as it was posted!! yeah poor pete he was carrying all of the common sense in that last chap trying to keep vegas from doing the stupid thing!! yeah im not sure if he would have been able to cut himself off from his dad entirely, not unless his father backed him into a corner about pete and tried to kill him in front of vegas- then i think vegas would have made his choice even if hed agonise over it for the rest of his life. this way hes still going to agonise over it but pete isnt involved in a way that would strain their relationship. omg hahahahahah they were so dumb like literally making out everywhere, pete trying to figure out if they can sneak off someone for a quickie whilst bullets are flying everywhere and ppl are dying like cmon dude focus!!! ahhaah

yeah i dont think there was any other option for pete he had to do everything in his power to try and stop him otherwise hed never be able to live with himself after. ha they totally do ur so right anon! but vegas' injuries and petes uncertain feelings are going to deter them for a bit!! promise they will get there- we all know they can't resist each other.

you're so very welcome!! oh i totally get that!! but all good things have to end eventually! im just so happy that everyone has enjoyed the ride. ahhhh thank you so much i didnt even realise this had happened until u guys mentioned the anniversary!! what a wild thought!!

#fic asks #ill fill the graveyards until i have you

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skippyisabramble · 1 year

Text

WIP

hi blimps im still here. dead or not ill keep posting

silly little wip i’ve been working on. too lazy to make a fancy info thingy before it. I’m not sure if I’ll finish it because even though Khadija is a character I use regularly, this is not for a roleplay and more of a uhhh oneshot, I guess you could say.

I also must add a disclaimer that theres some pretty offensive language here but none of these are my genuine opinions. I write in the perspectives of my characters and Khadija is not the nicest by a long shot.

Oh and these guys are dogs djrnkfmymy anyway its below the keep reading :)

—

Ofelia was amongst the worst of all Khadija’s stepmothers. Her mother always muttered to her about how insufferable she was. Well, she had a lot to say about all the other consorts.

Lavinia was more of a sharmouta than a woman of royalty. Snakelike Marica’s only redeeming quality were the three bastards she bore, and yet those three bastards brought nothing to the table. (A son who wanted to be more of a peasant than a prince, a daughter who’d only exceed in mopping floors, and another son who believed he was worth the title of King.) The palace would’ve been much more comfortable had Leona’s tongue been cut out long ago, and the same goes for Marica. Estella was only memorable for dying during childbirth, and that *golden girl* should have died with her. It’s a wonder how Cyriacus could love someone like her, even when shes dead and gone.

And Ofelia was just dreadful. The only thing she does is cry. Just speaking the name of another consort could bring her to tears. Hell, even a drop of a pin. With such thin skin, it was no one's fault but hers that she was so miserable in the castle. She was probably doing it for attention, and that made it even more sickeningly childish. And speaking of which, Aloisia thought of her stepchildren just as highly as she does their mothers. Even if they weren’t the princes she prayed for, Khadija and Djamila were worth more than all of them combined. Cyriacus should be thankful for such perfect girls; they were the best things to come to Shorus after Adelia being sent off. Nearly all of Khadija’s siblings were older than her, adults by the time she and her twin sister were born. But she knew one of them was her age. It was another sister, albeit half, and her name was Aletta. Her mother was none other than the palaces whiner, Ofelia. Khadija, Djamila, and Aletta were born within the same month. Khadija was unsure of who was older, but she did know they were days apart.

But Khadija wasn’t keen on finding out. She didn’t care about Aletta. She didn’t like her. Why? Because Aletta was no good, nor worth her time, so her mother said. She and Djamila should best focus on their studies, not get involved with the likes of her, nor any of the consorts spawn. And Aloisia couldn’t be wrong, as if she were, she wouldn't be so certain whenever she said so. She always knew best, and her advice always made sense to Khadija. She never really spoke to Aletta, not really. The same goes for the rest of her half siblings. She met them, but never really spent time with them like she does Djamila. Especially since Khadija was newly weaned, now at the age of 2 months. She did meet them when she was a young baby, however. Viewing the newest born princess or prince was customary in Shorus, after all. Khadija remembers seeing one of her brothers, Ahsan, quite often. He was the first to introduce art, specifically paint, to her before she’d have to sit through dozens of paintings Aloisia commissioned of her. He once let her place a clumsy paw print on one of his newest paintings, but Aloisia wasn’t too happy he’d bring ‘chemicals’ so close to her daughter. From what she could remember, pale Runal was always kind, though he didn’t come around often. But his two pale siblings, Hassan and Fatima, seemed more curt than anything, especially Hassan. Aloisia doesn’t like Hassan too much. Shahnaz and Malik were nice, but she didn’t see them often.

While Khadija didn’t talk to Aletta, it didn't mean they hadn’t at all. Being the same age, it would be more likely that Khadija, Djamila, and Aletta would’ve met. Ofelia was hopeful that Aletta could have been friends with the twin sisters, and pushed the possibility. Khadija recalls brief glimpses of sharing toys with the other girl, who arguably looked quite similar to her and Djamila herself. She could recall giggling with the other girl as they played, but she was unsure at what. Aloisia wasn’t too fond of Aletta being daughters playmate, though. With how sensitive and emotional Ofelia was, it probably ended up in Aletta having some sort of compromised immune system, or worse; an ill-mind. Something like that being so close to her daughters would be disastrous. The older Khadija became, the larger the wedge between her and Aletta grew. She’d see her in the halls and say nothing.

#the silver throne #Khadija Aloisia Merenda #the mushroom writes

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emetkoto · 2 years

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idk man I just really like your style of rambling about them ig? like I find peoples' enthusiasm for things very sweet and infectious sometimes and your emetkoto posts defs hit that spot for me? like your joy and love for them seeps through and infects me too it's great. emetkoto good. anyway tell us about after vauthry. do it. give us the deets.

well thank you very much, it makes me happy to hear that ive had that effect on you 🥺🥺🥺 thats exactly what i hope to do with my posts about them but i do have bad demon brain so sometimes im like hmm. 'am i just being unbearably annoying instead actually???' and ofc sometimes its 'oh this is not original at all nobody wants to read this' so its always nice to have a little reassurance like this ghsljgsfd….

cracks my fingers so hard they all break anyway now for that essay you asked for

RIGHT SO LIKE right before vauthry, literally the night before that fight is when emet selch takes k'oto to the tempest to marry him and seubsequently erase his memory of it to "keep things fair" or whatever (basically he still had tiny little pangs of doubt about how things would turn out bc of yknow the whole being tempered for 12k+ years situation and he wanted to make sure that if it like. came to them having to fight. k'oto wouldnt hesitate bc he had smth like that holding him back :,) little did he know that he tried to hesitate in the end anyway and was only stopped from sparing him by ardbert) but thats a whole like other thing i still have to finish writing the worlds longest stupidest hardest to read post about so im physically restraining myself from going on about this anymore right this moment as much as i want to repeat myself forever about it bc GOD. God. god.

but anyway he was full of love and hope for k'oto, so much hope that he would be able to hold the light and prove mankinds worth so he could lay his mission to rest and stay by his side (and undo the spell holding his memories of the wedding) he was so SO ready for it and then. it just. all came crashing down :,) he'd allowed himself to let his guard down and put his duty aside and have hope in humanity again one last time and fall in love and k'oto just couldnt do it! even with his subtle help holding the light back he couldnt handle it, he was still too weak at 7 rejoinings and that shit hurted bad!!! he succumbed to the tempering and grief and rage and disappointment and closed himself off again…from there its probably the more canon adjacent bit of their story, graha tia acting embarassment, back to the tempest (altho k'oto doesnt remember having been there once before AUGH), amaurot, dying gasp :,)

throughout it all k'oto is trying desperately to get him to listen to him again but emet selch keeps cutting him off and ignoring him which hurts A LOT and ofc he says some. mean things to try and get him to just leave it be and accept what has to be done and stop talking about it bc HE didnt wanna think about it anymore EITHER obviously here but k'oto doesnt give up he keeps trying all the way to the very end….he never planned to kill emet selch, he just wanted to weaken him enough that he would take a moment to stop and think and listen , a last ditch effort to fix things but ardbert (and everyone else really) saw that it was like. too late for that. there was no way in hell emet selch was hearing reason anymore and if k'oto let him live there was a pretty high chance he would just kill him when he tried to get close to him so he took control of his body and made sure that axe killed, oops! way to kill a dudes soulmate and then be absorbed into his soul so you can never actually apologize for it…when the dust settled and k'oto realized what had happened he. was. A MESS!!

the only thing stopping him from breaking down right away was emet selch shushing him like 'let me enjoy this last moment with you in peace and quiet'……remember us and all that (although 'us' had a very obvious double meaning here

anyway tldr; WEHHHHHHH,,,,,,,

sorry for unreadability i very much wrote it exactly as it came out of my brain which is a long run on thought with no consideration for line or paragraph breaks. i tried to turn it into a few chunks for you

#words of mimi #emetkoto #shadowbringers spoilers

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ramabear · 2 years

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Do you have any idea how long trustful will be whem all is said and done? What's written is already nearly as long as siaod and we're not even through the sports festival arc yet. It's already nearly 100k longer than as siaod was when Tessa was introduced, about halfway through, which would put it at about 450k words to get to point where siaod was, which was nowhere near a resolution. There are two of five parts posted and you're at 220k words, so at this rate, the finished work would be about 550k, half a million words long, which is insane. Your writings so good though, I'd definitely read it all the way to the end.

Anyway much love, i hope all those numbers dont make writing it seem overwhelming, it's just my first instinct to calculate it out like that.

ok, first of all, i love the numbers. i mean, I've been tracking my daily wordcount since 2020 and trustfall has been written since that point so like, I'm aware of how many words it is and i adore it haha.

as for when it's all said and done... god, i have no idea. i honestly don't. i do know that the first 19 chapters of inertia is going to be about 100k (give or take a few hundred) because that's what I've got written for it right now. i can also say that like, as grand a project siaod was, the layers of trustfall are far more interwoven and far more complex--which of course leads me to have to write more to put all the pieces into place and then even more to reveal them to the right degree in order to accomplish the story in an interesting way to the best of my ability.

i'd consider inertia to be....if not half written at this point than at least a third, which means that there's another 100-200k of words to write for it before the end. that would put us already at the half million words, which is such a fucking commitment to read (i just spent like half of last week reading a 600k fic so I'm even more aware of how much time that is than usual) (not that i don't think people will do this. i am aware of the vested interest people have in trustfall and honestly im kind of counting on it to help motivate me to finish the damn thing because if i can get it to do on paper what i see in my head i totally believe it will be worth spending all that time reading it)

i dont know how long the BTS/intermission piece between act 3 and 4 (and between 4 and 5) would be (presumably between 2-10k, depending on what i need from it) and considering what i have planned for act 4, i think that i can safely say that there's another 100k in that part, at least. tbh, i think act 5 is going to end up more of an....extended epilogue? maybe 60kish? i don't have nearly as much planned for that act as i do for 3 and 4. it is, after all, the final act, our denouement, if you will.

so, considering trustfall is at 220k now, has for sure 100k to be added with inertia, between 200-300k for the rest of inertia, approximately 5-20k for the two remaining intermissions, probably 200-300k for act 4 and perhaps 50-80k for the final act well... we're looking at between 750k and 1million words by the end of it.

which would be kind of ironic if we hit 1mil, bc i started rewriting trustfall the same year i completed my 1mil word challenge.

no matter what the end result is for the wordcount, though. the thing that will satisfy me the most will be to get the story down in my head.

thank you for the love, i appreciate the ask. its fun to talk numbers and i don't do it very much because Reasons haha.

#ramables #trustfall ask #trustfall related #wordcount update #i need to revisit my pinned post and also update my wordcount tracker on my profile #i'll have to do that later though :)

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sharkbaitouhaha · 2 months

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Tell me about your book !!! (I saw the name of the book btw) I just don't know what it's about . Curious to know why it's not that enjoyable but you're still reading 😂😂

Lola i am about to write you a novel i am so sorry

for anyone curious this is a bout the book "a touch of darkness" okay so! i have to start with the fact that this was a book bought for me for my birthday and was very much a shot in the dark on if i'd like it or not. and this is all going to be very rambly because i'm really not sure why i'm still reading it 😂

it's a retelling of the hades & persephone myth but it's like a ✨spicy✨ retelling. so look i love some good smut but i'm not a big romance or smut book reader, it's just usually not my jam or something i'm drawn to outside of fanfic. i adore greek mythology which is why the book was bought for me, with the biggest worry being "is the retelling going to be good enough for my dear darling wife who admittedly is sometimes too critical of retellings". My sweet darling beloved husband also did not realize this was a smutty book he was buying which actually is the funniest part of this entire story to me.

at the time of writing this i'm about 50% done the book. now the way this author has gone about doing the actual retelling or reworking of the myth is just, in my opinion, not great. however it really reads like maybe they had this other story and just slapped some greek mythology characters onto the book. the story very much feels like they wanted to write that kinda 'billionaire, possessive, enemies to lover' type story which again just not my usual type of story but hey it's good to give things a chance. also persephone, who this particular book really places the focus on, is just really fucking stupid

the smut is also just not really smutting to put it in the worst possible wording i can. there's like hints of it but nothing has really happened. perhaps i am just impatient but also there's been moments where there's definitely build up and then it doesn't go far and just ends very abruptly.

honestly it feels like maybe the book would have been better if it was not meant to be smutty at all, or there was more commitment to the smut. it almost feels jarring, like i'm being pulled out of one type of story and i'm being plopped into another type of story.

now with all of that i'm sure you're still wondering why is she reading this she has many a complaint. and i really wish i had a firm answer here because i wouldn't be so confused myself. here are some thoughts on why i think i have continued to read it despite all of the above

like sometimes things are objectively bad but they're fun and so it's still enjoyable and while it may not be a super enjoyable book it's also not unenjoyable, it's kind of a middle ground i guess. at no point have i been reading and felt "this is so atrocious that it's a waste of time to read it". so while i don't find it's very good i also don't think it's bad enough to just stop reading. ya know what i mean?

i am also genuinely curious to see where this author takes the myth. i don't necessarily think it's a great retelling or rework of the myth but i am so curious to see where she takes it, at least for this book because i don't see myself reading the rest of the series. that's part of the fun in reading retellings is seeing how things are changed and while i don't love the current choices i've seen the authot has in fact piqued my interest enough to see where things go, or at the very least where this book ends in terms of the myth.

it's also a pretty quick read so it doesn't feel like it's draining or taking more mental energy than its worth to read it. and hey why not try to just finish a book in a genre you never would have bought yourself

anyway i don't know if any of this makes any sense or really explains why i'm reading it. i guess there's just parts of the story i am somewhat interested in but as a whole im just not really liking it. if i had to rate it right now i'd say it's like a 2/5 so not the worst but also not good.

#asks

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elleirbagsstuff · 2 years

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uhh camilo x gender neutral artist :D (romantic) reader asks camilo to proofread one of their stories and hes like "damn... the mc sounds familiar 😕😕" and its based off him lmao im not sure if i worded this right TT

Writer, got it, ok!

"It's me!"

Pair: Camilo x Gender neutral!reader

Genre: romantic, fluff

Summary: Y/n and Camilo are spending their mornings in his room, when y/n suddenly asked Camilo to proofread one of their works.

••

Camilo was waiting for Y/n to arrive at his room, both of them were together earlier, until Y/n forgot their notebook where they write their stories, so they asked Camilo to go ahead and just wait for them.

After a few minutes, Y/n came running inside Camilo's room, obviously tired, they didn't want Camilo to be waiting that long so they ran.

"You look like you ran a marathon, mi dulce!" He laughed while looking at Y/n, meanwhile the latter glared at him and they threw the notebook on his face. They flopped themselves at Camilo's bed groaning.

"I needed to get that, i finished it last night and could you like proofread it?" They ask, Camilo stayed silent so Y/n turns to look at him and saw Camilo looking at them with a strange face.

"Proofread? ¿Que demonios es eso?" He asked them.

"You know, read it and see if you can spot any mistakes for example, spelling, what if i spelled one word wrong." Camilo nodded thoughtfully as Y/n explained to him, he was flipping the pages and went to the last one. "Find the part where the protagonist went to annoy his sister for money."

Camilo quickly scanned the notebook to find that scene, and when he did find it, he read it out loud so Y/n can hear it too.

"Diego went to find his sister inside her room, and when he saw her peacefully reading a book he smiled mischievously as he entered her room without knocking "oh dear sister!" He said. "You know that you're my favorite sister in the whole world right?" His sister gave him a stern look before saying. "I'm your only sister." " Camilo snorted at the scene he just read.

"Hey keep going!" Y/n shouted at him but Camilo kept laughing and Y/n can't help but join him. "Seriously keep going!"

"Okay okay! He rolled his eyes at the response he got but; nonetheless he went beside her giving his sister a pleading look "can you lend me some money Elena?" The girl paid no attention to her brother causing Diego to whine "c'mon Elenaaaaa, pretty pleaseee???" Annoyed she looks at her brother and plainly said, "no." Jeez what does he need the money for?" He asked Y/n.

"You have to read to find it out." They said with a smile, Camilo smiled as well, he didn't mind he was enjoying the story Y/n wrote.

" Diego pouted, it was a sore eye for his sister. "Why can't you get your own money? Find a job you're 20!" Elena shouted at her younger brother while shaking her head. "That's why i'm asking for money! I'm finding a job!" The boy shouted hopeful that his sister would believe him, but boy is he wrong. "No, you're asking money so you could go and visit your girlfriend from another country." She said while smirking at Diego, the boy grumbled before standing and he whispered "worth a shot" Woah- okay hold up, i knew he was kind of familiar ever since i read this." Camilo said to himself, "who did you base the main character from?" Camilo asked Y/n who was beside him.

Their face was flushed, embarrassed? No, maybe flustered. They cleared their throat before answering.

"Uhm, i based him off of you." They answered unable to look at Camilo, meanwhile the latter gave Y/n a tight squeeze and a kiss on their cheeks.

"I knew it! It's me! You just love me so much that you had to make your main character like me, huh?" He teased, Y/n playfully rolled their eyes with a smile on their face as they shove Camilo.

"Shut up, just read the whole thing."

And so the two of them enjoyed teasing each other for the rest of the day.

••

Sorry it's short! But i had fun writing this :))

#encanto #encanto fic #camilo madrigal #camilo madrigal x reader #camilo x reader

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

“What could I possibly get you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s none of your busi-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m literally asking you.”

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

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

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

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

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

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

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

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What time’s your date?”

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

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

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

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

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

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

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

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

He was sure he picked it up.

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

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

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

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

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

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

See? Good luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The box.

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

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

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

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

He fucking trips again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Motherfu-

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

“James?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You must be really dehydrated."

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

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

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

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

“I, uh,-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

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

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

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

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

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

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

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

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

“Just fix it.”

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

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

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

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

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

Huh?

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

He’s confused.

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

“The shoelaces?”

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

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

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

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

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

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

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

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

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

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

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

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

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

He nods briskly.

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

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait here a second.”

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

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

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

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

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

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

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

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

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

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

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

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hotch-stufff · 3 years

Note

can i get angst 47 with gibbs 👁👁

Bruises

gif is not mine

Paring: Gibbs x Reader

Warnings!: mentions of abuse, angst, crying, comforting, abusive relationship, cursing, mentions of injuries from abuse

Prompt: "You flinched"

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I laid on the ground, not having enough energy to stand up. I couldn't move, and God did it hurt to breathe. Probably a bruised rib, would definitely have some bruises to add to the collection.

Hopefully nothing bad enough to send me to the hospital. The last time I did that, well it was just really bad, and Darren was pissed. So pissed that when we got home, he beat me all over again.

Now I know what you're thinking. What is a federal agent doing staying in an abusive relationship like this? Truth is, I had no idea. At first it was because I thought the beatings would eventually stop, but they didn't. And after realizing they would never stop, I tried to get out. But that only left to another hospital trip and threats. The threats were the only reason that I stayed.

Darren threatened a lot of things. He threatened to beat me so bad I couldn't move. To kill me. But the worst was that he threatened to hurt my team. He knew the whole team, he knew them really well. He worked at NCIS for God's sake, just not on Gibbs team. And that was enough for me to stick around.

Of course, it should be known that it wasn't always like this. Darren was a good guy in the beginning. He brought me flowers and took me out to nice restaurants. He made time for me, and I did the same for him. But then, he didn't get the open spot on Gibbs team. I did. And it all went downhill from there.

The bruises were getting extremely hard to hide. Turtlenecks and long pants were becoming my everyday wardrobe. Which wasnt the easiest thing to work in, but foundation was expensive, and Darren spent most of our money on alcohol or cigarettes. Whatever his weekly fix was. It was ... exhausting. The front I had put up in front of everyone was tearing me down, and people were starting to notice.

Tony and Ziva, who sat closest to me would send me a concerned glance each time I winced when moving. I blamed it on muscle pain, from working out so much.

Abby would see the amount of makeup I was wearing and would ask if I was okay. Of course she just thought I was insecure. She would always tell me that I was bueatiful and that I didn't need makeup. It warmed my heart each and every time she said it.

Palmer was concerned because he had caught one of my bruises. It was on my wrist and my sleeve had rolled up slightly. He had asked about it and I had told him the first lie that popped in my head. That I had fallen. He had taken me straight to Ducky to make sure that it was actually okay. Which is how Ducky got involved.

And then there was Gibbs. Gibbs didn't ask questions, he didn't push for answers, he didn't send me concerned glances. But I was certain he knew something. He didn't know what was actually going on, because he would beat the shit out of Darren if he knew. But he just seemed like he knew something. I knew that if I was going to go to anyone about my "issue", it would be him. Gibbs had been there for me since I had joined the team. And we both had spent plenty of late nights in the office talking. Me, avoiding going home to Darren and him not wanting to go back to his empty house.

Everyone had said that Gibbs was this hard man that never opened up and remained silent most of the time. But boy once he got talking, he never shut up. We talked about eveything. And sometimes nothing, just enjoying each others presence. And if I'm honest, I may have been developing feelings for the guy. But I could never do that, because Darren would probably kill him. And that scared me more than anything.

But life seemed okay. Atleast I was the only one getting hurt.

Of course until it all came crashing down. And it had just been a normal day.

* * *

I sat at my desk, working on and endless stack of paperwork that came with each case. We had just wrapped one up, a good ending thankfully. The team was in high spirits, talking about going out to a bar tonight. But I knew Darren wouldn't have it. I had turned down the offer, instead opting to sit and do paperwork until I had to go home.

Everyone had left for the night, leaving me alone in the bullpen. My hand was a scribbling away, when I had felt the gentle tap of a hand against my shoulder. I should have been more careful, but I had thought it was Darren. So I flinched away from him and crossed my arms in front of my face.

"Y/n?" Gibbs. It was Gibbs. That was it. Just Gibbs. I instantly pulled my arms down and straightened up.

"H-hey Gibbs. What um, what can I do for you." He just stared at me, giving me the usual Gibbs glare.

"You flinched." I grimaced. Of course I did. I didn't want him to find out like this, but I guess this is how its gonna go.

"Um- I, I. Well you see Gibbs-" he cut me off.

"Is someone hittin ya?" He paused thinking, before remembering my oh so lovely boyfriend. "That son of a bitch."

"Wait Gibbs. Its not what you think." But the damage was done. He was going through everything in his mind. My clothes, the grimaces everytime I jerked around, the excuses, the late nights avoiding going home. It all made sense to him now.

"Take off your shirt." My eyes grew wide.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." There was no avoiding this, he wasn't letting me off easily. I took a deep breath before grabbing the bottom of my turtleneck and bringing it over my head. His breath hitched when he saw the bruises that littered my skin.

"My god y/n." He shook his head, running the rough pads of his fingers up and down my arms. "Gonna kill him." And he stood back up, turning quickly before stomping towards the elevator. I slipped my shirt back on and ran after him, but he was already gone. I hurried down to the parking garage and jumped in my car speeding off.

He was gonna kill him. Although who would kill who, I didn't know.

I broke just about every speeding law on the way to my house. When I got there, the door was kicked open and yelling was coming from inside the house.

"Gibbs!" I shouted, running as fast as I could. I walked in the door and gasped. There was glass littering the floor, and picture frames scattered across the ground. I walked further in the house and found them in my kitchen. Gibbs on top of Darren, repeatedly punching him in the face.

"Gibbs! Stop!" I ran to him, pulling him off of Darren. "Stop, he isn't worth it." I pulled Gibbs up by his arm and dragged him away. But he wasn't finished.

"Ya ever go near her again, you're gonna wish you were dead. We'll come back for her stuff, you better not be here when we do." I wanted to cry, to scream, to shout. But I held it in, grabbing Gibbs more forcefully and dragging him back outside.

Once outside, we hopped in his car, and he began driving back to his house. Saying I was grateful was an understatement. Grateful that it was finally over. That maybe I could sleep at night now without worrying about waking up to another beating.

The ride was driven in silence, and soon we were at his house. He got out of the car and walked inside, leaving me out here by myslef. I walked in after him.

I found him in the the kitchen pouring a glass of Bourbon. I came up behind him hugging him.

"Thank you." He froze for a minute before turning in my grasp and brining me into a tight hug. And thats what started the tears. We stood there as I cried into his chest for what felt like forever. Until he finally pulled away and cupped my face.

"Ya didn't deserve any of that. Don't know what happened, or when it started. But ya didn't deserve any of it. You are beautiful and loved and noone should ever have to be treated the way you were." He paused and I began rambling out whatever words came to my mind.

"It was you. I stayed because he threatened you. He said he would hurt you and the team and I couldn't let him." He leaned his forehead against mine. The tears pouring steadily down my face, sobs racking by body.

"Shh, shh. Sweetheart its okay." He leaned in slightly, our lips brushing slightly. And then he leaned in the rest of the way, kissing me into he most gentle way he could. So much different than the bruising kisses that Darren would give me. He broke away after a second.

"Dont know if your ready for it, but I love ya." He said softly. "We can do this, if you want. At your own pace. I just want to show you whats its like to be loved the right way." I nodded.

"I might need some time. But I love you too... Jethro." He smiled.

"Take all the time you need. But m'not leaving your side." I giggled softly as he brought me into another hug. And I stood there whispering thank yous and I love yous until we headed off to bed. I hadn't felt this safe in a long time, and I never wanted to let this feeling go.

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Hope you guys enjoyed this one. I'm really enjoying writing for Gibbs. Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! Im so sorry if I don't get to your request! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#ncis gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis #imagine #angst #fluff #reader insert

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