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capseycartwright · 4 days

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oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he?

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

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t’s been a long time since Eddie Diaz had set foot in a church – of his own accord, at least. He’d been to the christenings and communions and confirmations of all of his various nieces, nephews, and cousins, he’d sat stiff in the pew as he’d watched friends, and family get married, trying his best not to remember how own wedding day, the way Shannon’s hands had shaken in his grip as they promised to love each other until death do them part, both of them young, too young to understand the covenant they were signing up to. Eddie had been there, for all those occasions, but he hadn’t gone to mass, or even sat in a church, just because he wanted to in a very long time.

He wasn’t even really sure if he wanted to be there today, but it was a Thursday, and Christopher was in Texas, and Eddie wasn’t working, and he’d been having an extended mental breakdown for the last few weeks, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the pew of St Brendan’s Catholic Church, listening to a softly spoken priest with an Irish lilt to his accent – faded, after years in America, Eddie presumed, but still there, noticeable in the inflection of certain words – recite the Our Father.

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but it felt like every other church he’d been to in his life. They didn’t all look the same, necessarily, though they followed the same format, rows of uncomfortable wooden pews and an altar decorated in gold, as opulent as it was suffocating. Eddie had thought it beautiful, before, the way Catholic churches were decorated in gold and jewels, believing for so much of his life that the wealth honoured God – but living life had made him learn the grandeur and displays of wealth were nothing more than indicative of the wealth the Catholic church had hoarded while their devout followers starved, all in the name of faith and of God. True faith didn’t need to be gilded in gold to be sincere, he’d decided.

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but mass was the same. It didn’t change – though the wording of some of the prayers did. He’d sort of been checked out of being a regular churchgoer by time they had changed some of the prayers, only discovering the difference when he confidently started to recite it wrong at his youngest niece’s communion, his mother fixing him with a glare so icy hell might have frozen over under the power of Helena Diaz’s gaze alone. He’d never learned the new ones, not really, and so Eddie just recited the one’s he’d learned for his own confirmation, the words falling from his lips, muscle memory more than it was faith now.

Our father, who art in heaven – hallowed be thy name .

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, a little, as he murmured the prayer. Hallowed be thy name. He knew the prayer talked about God, their holy father, but the prayer had always made him think of his own father, of the way Ramon Diaz was a hallowed man in his own right, how he parented with an iron fist and expected to be obeyed.

Things were getting better now, with his dad. Maybe – maybe that was part of the fear. Eddie had always been afraid of letting people down, but more than anyone, he was afraid of letting his father down – of seeing that look of disappointment set into every crease of his father’s face, an expression he’d been on the receiving end of for more of his childhood than he’d like to admit. Eddie had tried so hard to make sure he was never on the receiving end of that look again, but nothing he had ever done was good enough – not marrying Shannon, not the way he had tried to take responsibility for his young family, not the army, not the man he had been when he’d come home from Afghanistan.

Distance had lessened the number of disappointed looks, but Eddie knew that was because he was simply not seeing them anymore; he was sure his father sometimes frowned at the phone when they’d finally call, silted conversation about Christopher and life at the firehouse the best either of them could muster.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better.

At least it had been, until his parents had taken Christopher with them to Texas. It hadn’t helped their relationship – but it hadn’t hindered it as much as Eddie had expected either. He was never going to thank them, for the way they had swooped in, ready to take Christopher at a moment’s notice, but he could thank them for giving his son the space that he needed to process. Eddie couldn’t give him that space, right now, but he was grateful someone could. Still – he would be ready to drive to Texas at the drop of a hat when Christopher decided he was ready to come home.

Things were getting better, that was the thing. His dad called, every night, to update Eddie on Christopher’s day. Eddie could hear the familiar sounds of the Diaz backyard as his dad softly spoke, telling Eddie about how Christopher had been to the lake, with his cousins, and how he’d finished another book, and how he was helping Helena to make dinner, right then. It had filled the gap until Christopher had started to call Eddie himself, his voice tinny as he mumbled over the phone, things not quite back to normal, Christopher not willing to talk to him about anything except Marvel and Minecraft and how abuela’s tamales were better than Eddie’s, but better than they were, at least.

Every time they were on the phone, Eddie reassured his parents that he was working on himself. He was back seeing Frank, every week, and at Frank’s encouragement, he’d joined a veteran’s support group. Eddie wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect military veteran he assumed he needed to be, to join a veteran support group, but the rag-tag group that met at his community hall every month weren’t exactly the flag-wearing, gun-toting veterans he’d expected them to be. James was a 63-year-old man from Massachusetts who ran the group – he had moved out to LA to live with his daughter after he retired and referred to himself delightedly as a stay-at-home grandfather. Luisa was a vet around Eddie’s own age, and she’d gone back to university after she got out of the army and got a fine arts degree. She liked to paint, and talked about her wife with a reverence and openness that Eddie could only admire.

He hadn’t said a word the first time he went, and Buck had sat in the Jeep in the carpark, a ready-made escape plan for Eddie in case he decided it was all too much. Eddie had sat quietly as the group had chatted, drinking tea and coffee out of flimsy paper cups, and eating homemade biscuits – made by James, who, as it turned out, was quite the prolific baker – and he’d watched. He’d watched as the group had talked about their bad days, and their good days, and how they were coping with life after the military, and not a single glorious war-story was exchanged.

That was when Eddie knew it was safe to keep going. He was never going to be a man who was proud of his service, and he didn’t want to have to attend a support group of people who’d talk about their time in the military like it was the good old days. He had spoken a little more, the second time he went – Buck doing his groceries, two streets away, rather than sitting in the carpark – and he’d introduced himself, his voice gruff as he tried to figure out what version of Eddie he wanted to present to the world.

Eddie was still figuring that part out – the version of himself he wanted to be, that is.

He was figuring himself out. That was the point. He was trying, he was really trying – and people could see that, Eddie was sure. His parents said they could, at least.

Which was why he was here – in a church not dissimilar to the one he’d attended every Sunday in El Paso growing up – on his knees, praying to a God he wasn’t sure he actually believed in for guidance.

read the rest on ao3

#911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #writing this was both hashtag healing #and the fic equivalent of ripping my own heart out with a rusty spoon #so you know. enjoy

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01zfan · 8 months

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Can you do a story where the female reader is getting backshots from shotaro and his members walk in and see you naked?

rushed | o. st

idol!shotaro x reader | 2.8k words

contains: sneaking around, backshots, getting caught

you rarely got to see shotaro. separate lives kept you apart more days than you would like to admit, and time always felt like it was slipping away when you were with him.

it was also increasingly hard to get him alone, always surrounded by his bandmates. you couldn’t blame shotaro or his team, they were only doing their job most of the time. you knew it wasn’t your place to ask them to clear out their shared dorm so you could have alone time with your boyfriend. unplanned alone time became a luxury, and you two treated it as such.

it was a shame that time always felt like it was fleeting when you got shotaro alone. you two never knew when someone else would walk through the door, or when shotaro would get called to go to practice. the fleeting time made you two act like hormonal teenagers no matter where you were. time was of the essence, you two had to do whatever you couldn’t do in front of others as fast as possible. this meant dry humping on that black couch in the studio in the middle of the night, or shotaro pressing your body against the glass in the practice room early morning before everyone else arrived. making out the second you two were alone became a habit, lips instantly attaching and hands grasping at the other the second no one else was around.

there were several close calls when you guys would fool around. it didn’t help that you two would get so caught up in the moment you forgot there’s other people in the world, too. you remember pushing shotaro to the floor when someone almost caught you two making out on the in a lounge room. you were laid on your back while shotaro kissed your neck, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. shotaro was no help, he was awful at paying attention to his surroundings in these situations. shotaro’s only thoughts were filled with you, the way your skin was so soft and how he hasn’t had the chance to kiss you in so long. he thought it was criminal he didn’t get any alone time with his girlfriend, sometimes he cursed the life he chose because it kept him away from you. shotaro was taking his time when you saw the blurry figure of someone through the frosted glass of the door. before the knob was turned the same hands that were pulling shotaro closer to you pushed him backwards by the shoulders. he launched to the other side of the sofa and you grabbed your phone that was previously forgotten on the coffee table.

poor anton was subjected to seeing you two pretend like the obvious wasn’t so obvious. you looked to the anton and then followed anton’s eyes to shotaro’s mussed hair and wrinkled shirt. your boyfriend wasn’t only bad at listening for people coming, but also terrible at acting nonchalant. shotaro had a shocked expression on his face and was frozen in place on the couch. you were also frazzled, but atleast you had the sense to pretend like you were looking at your phone. anton saw right through your act though, especially because you looked just as disheveled as shotaro.

“just here for the vending machine.” anton said.

you three were forced to bask in the awkward atmosphere as anton walked to the machine. anton took his sweet time, going over the options a million times like it was his first time seeing the machine. you couldn’t see anton’s face but you’re sure he was smiling, making you two suffer through the consequences of your actions.

“you like cola right, anton?” shotaro said.

now you were trying to hold back your laugh at shotaro ver yclearly trying to rush anton out of the room.

“i love cola.” anton said, holding back a laugh.

the soda dropping from the vending machine was the only sound in the room. anton slowly walked to the door and opened the soda, making an obnoxious sound after taking a sip. with his hand on the door, anton cast a look backwards.

“you two lovebirds have fun.” anton said giggling.

after that incident, you and shotaro became more careful. you set rules in place to avoid having to bear through another awkward moments like that one. only kissing on the lips was allowed in public places with no locks on the doors. no more grinding, no more shotaro putting a quick hand in your pants in shared spaces or you giving him hickeys in spots his shirts covered.

because of this, you two hadn’t gone beyond chaste kisses for nearly two weeks. it had gotten to the point that you thought you were going to die if you weren’t able to get him alone soon. your prayers were ironically answered when shotaro got sick. it wasn’t anything serious, something similar to a simple cold. so close to the comeback it was important for shotaro to quarantine from his group so it didn’t spread.

you won’t believe this, but i’m all alone in the dorms right now.

you nearly fell over when you saw that text. you had never been somewhere so fast in your life, getting to the dorms in record time. shotaro did seem a little sick when he opened the door, but your need for him outweighed the risk of getting sick.

shotaro couldn’t even close the door before your lips were on his. you had to shut the door with your foot as you continued to kiss shotaro, moving backwards towards his bedroom. you two made a mess in the space between the door and shotaro’s room. things were pushed off of the tiny table beside the couch as shotaro leaned you against it. being able to lean against the piece of furniture gave you the ability to wrap your leg around shotaro’s waist, pulling him into you.

“someone is eager.” shotaro laughed before going to kiss your neck.

he was mocking you but just as depraved. you could feel his hardening dick press against your heat. your rushed hands made quick work of your shirt. you had strategically chosen a button up so you wouldn’t have to waste time pulling a shirt over your head.

“how long do we have?” you asked.

you contemplated letting your boyfriend fuck you then and there on that tiny table, or moving it to the couch. but if time allotted, you wanted to fuck him properly on his bed.

“an hour atleast. my medicine is across town.” shotaro said.

you push shotaro lightly by the shoulders, getting off of the table.

“let’s go to your room then.” you say.

shotaro basically runs to his while you laughing at him. all signs of shotaro’s being sick is gone as he undresses himself at the speed of light. shotaro doesn’t even bother to take off his shirt before he pulls you to the bed with him. you both giggle as he helps you out of your clothes. he kisses the exposed body that he hasn’t gotten the chance to kiss in so long.

“look who’s the eager one now.” you laugh.

shotaro is still giggles as he trails kisses up and down your body. you laugh when he hits a ticklish place and gasp when he bites you slightly. all the kisses are wet and melt into your skin.

“how do you want it?” shotaro asks.

he has to look up at you from your thigh, the place where he left an already forming hickey. shotaro hopes that you get the hint of him being so close to your heat that you let him eat you out. you want nothing more than that, feeling his sloppy wet kisses on your folds and his fingers on your clit. but you know that shotaro has the tendency to get carried away while tasting you, and you won’t be able to stop him once he starts. you also know that you need it rough and fast before time slips away and you don’t think you can go another day without feeling him inside of you. so you sit up on the bed as shotaro follows your every move.

“can you do it from the back?” you ask.

“of course.” shotaro says.

he leads you to your hands and knees and you sink into your arch while shotaro helps you, spreading your legs a little wider so he can slot himself between them. before you reach for his pillow shotaro stops you by placing a soft smack to your ass. he swipes his dick between your folds, collecting the slick that’s there. you let out a tiny gasp feeling him.

“i need to hear you baby.” shotaro says.

you had become so accustomed to hiding your mewls and moans into shotaro’s pillows and blankets that it had become second nature to grab a muffler for. your cries. but you were alone, so you let out a tiny whine as you could hear shotaro pumping his length.

“that’s my girl.” shotaro said.

his other hand goes to the small of your back, pressing down slightly. anticipation builds over your body as you wait for shotaro. just when you think he’s about to put it in he rests on his haunches. he puts two fingers inside of you and you moan and push your ass back. shotaro gives you another smack to keep you in place as he fucks you with his fingers.

“taro.” you whine breathlessly.

you are so desperate this alone has you on edge. shotaro places a kiss to your ass cheek and sucks on the skin. you can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers in your clit and he breaks away from your ass cheek with a lewd pop.

“gotta stretch you out. but you’re so wet it won’t be a problem right?” shotaro says.

you can hear the smirk in his voice as he adds in a third finger. you don’t care if he’s teasing you or if he wants you to beg. you will give him whatever he wants if that means he’ll fuck you. you shake your head into the mattress and you clench around his fingers.

“shotaro please put it in.” you cry out.

shotaro withdraws his fingers and gets up from the back of his legs. he gives your ass gentle pats, watching the recoil of your ass.

“patience baby.” shotaro says

shotaro uses the same that was inside of your to guide his dick to your entrance. he moves his hand from his dick to your ass to spread you out further. your hands grip the sheets of the bed when you can feel him prodding past your folds.

you let out a prolonged whine as shotaro slowly sinks into you. the way he has you spread makes you feel him more and guides him in deeper. you are both lost in the feeling, shotaro takes the bottom of his shirt into his mouth for a better view. he keeps you still when he sinks all the way in, loving the feeling of your squirm and clench around his length. you can’t believe how cruel the world was, keeping you from feeling this for so long. shotaro pulls out all the way before sliding back in just as slow. he takes off his shirt, his body becoming too hot feeling you clamp around him

“i missed this pussy so much.” shotaro said.

he looks at your face, half of it pressed into the mattress. the half shotaro can see is contorted in pleasure, lips slightly open as little sounds escape you. he needs to find time in his life to fuck you slow and steady so he can kiss your eyebrow kisses as he draws sounds from you. but right now, there’s an carnal need in him to fuck you fast before something interrupts him.

“can i go fast baby?” shotaro asks sweetly. “we are running out of time.”

you free one of your fists from the sheets and reach a hand backwards for shotaro to hold. he grabs it without hesitation.

“please.” you say.

that’s all shotaro needs before he pulls out his length and thrusts it back into you. you begging lit a fire inside of him, breathed a new vigor into his hips. his skin slaps against your ass as he fucks you from the back. his hand gives you stability, to the point you start pushing your hips back to meet his.

“oh my god.” you cry into the bed.

“i know. you feel so good.” shotaro groans. his words are accented with rough thrusts and almost drowned out by skin colliding. he adds another smack to your ass and picks up speed. “i can’t get enough.”

“don’t stop.” you say.

you clench onto his hand before moving your grip to his bicep. shotaro uses his strength to pull your upper body up from the bed, and you place a hand on the headboard to support your body. you can feel yourself getting close, sensitive from days of no contact. you curse yourself for not being able to hold on a little longer, but maybe shotaro will be a little mean and keep fucking as your orgasm takes over your body. your chest bounces from the force of the thrust and you feel shotaro’s hand that was on your ass reach underneath your extended arm to grab your breast. he kneads the supple skin in his hand. his thrusts remain consistent, fucking you in a steady but fast pace.

“can’t stop when i’m in this pussy.” shotaro says. “so tight it won’t let me go.”

everything about you is so soft. your breast is soft in shotaro’s hand, the skin of your ass that smacks against his pelvis is like a pillow, and your gummy walls bring shotaro relief from everyday life. he wishes he could tell you about all the things he loves about you, how badly he wished he had a day alone with you to make up for his absence. but he can barely form a vocal thought as you whine to him.

“i’m close.” you whimper.

“i got you.” shotaro grunts

you let go of shotaro’s bicep and he lets you go. you lower your hand from the headboard and go back to your original position. shotaro takes handfuls of your ass to spread your cheeks and lifts his leg up. this has you nearly screaming out grabbing onto anything you can find.

shotaro is desperate, trying to get you to cum as soon as possible. his stamina always comes in handy in situations like these. he admires how your body quickly reacts to his tempo changes and how deep he goes. its like you were made for him the way you clench around him perfectly.

between shotaro’s thrusts and you clamping around him, neither of you are paying attention to the outside world. your moans had turned into whimpers and pants, so entrancing that shotaro doesn’t hear the door open. you don’t hear sungchan asking where the hell the mess came from or footsteps coming towards shotaro’s closed door.

what you do hear is the door open and eunseok’s loud oh my god and sohee yelling out loud. it happens too quickly, shotaro pulling out of you and grabbing the covers to hide your naked body. you quickly turn your body to face the door, seeing seunghan cover sohee’s eyes and anton’s jaw to the floor. next thing you know you’re yelling too, from the pure embarrassment of six guys walking in on you naked and exposed.

“what are you guys doing here?” shotaro asks bewildered.

he’s lucky his boxers were still on the bed. you don’t know when shotaro put them back on, you bring the sheets up to cover your eyes. you still continue to yell from the pure shock of the moment.

“we brought you soup and your medicine. is this why you wanted us to get it from the place across town?” sungchan asks.

he sounds as bewildered as shotaro, not believing the sight in front of him. you slowly bring the sheets down from your eyes to see the six men still frozen in the doorway. even shotaro is still on the bed, trying to process everything

“please get out.” you screech.

this pulls everyone out of their trance, suddenly aware of you being completely naked underneath the sheets. they bump into eachother trying to back out of the room, someone at one point even falling down. they apologize profusely to you, saying they didn’t know.

even when shotaro’s door closes you dont emerge from underneath the covers. you stay there mumbling over and over again how traumatized you are. shotaro finds a little bit of humor in the situation cooing at you while he hugs you over the blanket.

“did you cum?” shotaro asks sarcastically.

you emerge from the sheets for only a second to hit him with a pillow before going back under.

#requestz #blurbz #shotaroz #01zfan: shotaro #shotaro smut #riize smut

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foxtrot91 · 6 days

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brave

It’s been six months since Buck and Tommy had their first disastrous date, and it’s not a coincidence that Buck chose Micelli’s for their date tonight. The last week has been rough for them both, and Buck thinks that maybe revisiting where they started could do them both some good. It’s a reminder, if nothing else, that they weathered one storm and they can weather this one too.

It had started with an offhand comment, and before either of them knew it, it had snowballed into their first actual fight. Buck has had arguments with girlfriends before, but something about this one felt different, it felt real, like the stakes were somehow higher than they were in his previous relationships. Eventually, when it was clear that they weren’t getting anywhere, Buck had taken off and found himself at Eddie’s with a pack of beer and a bag of Eddie’s favourite Doritos.

“I just don’t get what his problem is,” Buck says, and then cracks open a bottle. “It’s like he saw the-the lease renewal papers he just – he just…”

“Just?” Eddie prompts, stuffing his face with chips. Buck decides against telling him about the crumbs and Dorito dust stuck in his moustache, figuring he’ll discover it eventually and in the meantime, Buck can quietly laugh about it without Eddie knowing. He deserves some form of entertainment after the night he’s had.

“He asked me to move in with him,” Buck grumbles before grabbing his own handful of chips just to have something to do with his hands. He ignores the way Eddie’s eyes go wide at the admission. “It was out of nowhere a-and I don’t know what to do with that, Eddie. I-I panicked and I said some things I probably shouldn’t have… and then I took off.”

“If you’re not ready to move in with him then just say that,” Eddie says, as if it was that simple. It wasn’t that simple, was the thing, and Buck doesn’t know how to articulate that to his best friend, let alone to Tommy. Buck must take too long to respond because when Eddie continues, he’s looking at Buck with a thoughtful, borderline suspicious expression. “Unless… you’re not-not ready?”

Tapping his knuckles on the wood of Eddie’s table, Buck looks everywhere but Eddie as he gathers his thoughts.

“I-I shouldn’t be ready, right? I mean, we’ve only been together for six months, that’s way too soon.”

“So, it’s not that you’re not ready, but that you think that you shouldn’t be ready?” Buck nods, feeling a little helpless as Eddie looks at him like he’s an idiot, and Buck sighs in frustration. “Okay, I don’t get it. What is this about? Because if you’re ready, and Tommy’s ready, then I’m not sure I see the what the problem is.”

“I just-it just…” Buck pauses, forcing himself to take a breath before continuing. “It came out of nowhere and it just seemed so sudden and I…”

It doesn’t matter that he can’t seem to get the words out, because Eddie has a look of understanding dawning on his face as if he’s suddenly just realized what this is about and Buck lets out a sigh of relief. He can always trust Eddie to understand what’s going on with Buck, if no one else.

“Taylor,” Eddie says, before taking a long draw from his beer.

“Taylor,” Buck repeats in agreement. When Tommy had asked if he’d like to move in, Buck had felt a sudden rush of excitement and he’d almost, almost agreed without thinking. But that excitement had quickly changed into the sharp sting of anxiety as he’d thought about how quickly he and Taylor had jumped into that milestone, and then how quickly it had all fallen apart. Standing there, looking at Tommy, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying that they had an expiration date, and that this move would be the first step towards the end just like it had been with Taylor.

“Listen,” Eddie starts, and Buck knows that tone, it’s the same tone he used when telling Buck not to give up on something before he’d even known what it was before encouraging him to call Tommy. “You and Tommy are not you and Taylor, not even close. And if you’re really not ready for that step then that’s okay, and you need to tell Tommy that. I’m sure he’d understand. But if you are, and you’re just not letting yourself because of a previous bad experience then you need to figure out how to let that go before it hurts something that could be really good for you.”

He’s right, and Buck knows he’s right. He and Tommy have been doing so well together and Buck hates to admit that there’s been this part of him all along that’s just been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Tommy to come to the decision that maybe they’re just better off as friends. “You don’t think it’s too soon?” Buck asks quietly into his drink.

“I think that what’s too soon for some people is just right for others, and only you and Tommy get to decide what’s right for the two of you.” He’s speaking from experience, and Buck experiences a sudden pang of guilt at the reminder of Marisol and what led to Eddie blowing up his life.

Agreeing to give it some more thought, Buck decides to change the topic as a bit of sadness creeps over Eddie’s face. Without another word, Buck moves their location to the living room and puts on one of the telenovelas Eddie likes, and they both settle in for the night.

Eventually, Buck and Tommy had spoken, and had agreed to table talks of moving in together for the time being. Tommy hadn’t understood why Buck had reacted the way he had, and Buck wasn’t sure how to explain that thoughts of moving in together exhilarated and terrified him at the same time. He especially didn’t know how to explain that it’s thoughts of his ex-girlfriend that have him feeling so anxious.

But now that some distance has been put between the fight, and Buck’s had some time to think things through, he knows what he wants. And while things still weren’t quite back to normal between them, Tommy having pulled back slightly since the argument, they’re still them and Buck wants to celebrate that.

“Brings back memories,” Tommy quips once they’re settled into their table. When Buck made the reservation, he’d specifically requested this table, wanting to recreate their original date as much as possible. Hopefully with a much different ending this time.

“Yeah, uh, that’s why I chose it, actually.” Buck feels his face heat slightly at the admission as he glances up at Tommy. He hates that Tommy still looks a little guarded around him, hopes that he can erase that look with what he plans to say. “I thought maybe we could, I-I don’t know, paint over the old memories with new ones?”

That gets him a fond smile before Tommy looks down at the menu, shaking his head before he looks back up. “You’re adorable,” he says, voice soft and fond and Evan feels himself relax slightly at the glimpse of warmth there.

“You said that last time.”

“I meant it then, too.” Another smile, and Buck feels himself melt a little more.

The waiter appears then, and they put in their orders. Instead of sharing a pizza this time they order individually; Buck orders himself the gnocchi, and Tommy choosing the Chicken Parmigiana. Conversation is light as they wait for their food, Bobby is finally back in the captain’s seat which means that Buck is happy to talk about the goings on at the 118 and Tommy is always happy to listen. Tommy tells him about his last shift in turn, about the helicopter rescue of the missing hiker that could’ve gone wrong but didn’t thanks to Tommy and Lucy’s quick thinking, and for the first time since their fight, Buck feel sat peace.

This is what he wants, he thinks as their food arrives, him and Tommy. Whether they’re at a fancy restaurant or lazing about on Tommy’s couch, Tommy is where he feels content and happiest. There’s only two other people who’ve ever made him feel truly at ease and one of them is his sister, and the other is Eddie, and that he gets to count Tommy among that group fills him with so much warmth Buck thinks he could burst with it.

Only you and Tommy get to decide what’s right.

Eddie’s words come back to him as silence settles over the table while they dig into their food. He’s right, six months, twelve months, whatever, they’re all just arbitrary numbers and Buck is tired of letting his past dictate what feels right, right now. They’re nearly finished their meals when Buck sets down his fork with a soft clink, deciding it’s now or never.

“Tommy I uh, I wanted to-”

“—Wait, let… let me go first Evan,” Tommy says, cutting Buck off. “Look, last week I put you on the spot and that wasn’t right.”

“No, Tommy, I-”

Tommy raises a hand, as though silently asking Buck to let him finish and Buck’s mouth snaps closed. “It wasn’t fair to you, is what I’m trying to say, and neither was my reaction when you weren’t ready for that conversation.” He lets out a weary sigh and Buck wants nothing more than to reach across the table and pull him in for a tight hug, but he can tell Tommy has more he wants to say and thinks that maybe he wasn’t the only one who has been stewing on the events of last week. “When I saw that your lease renewal was coming up I just – I knew that I didn’t want to have to wait another year for you to move in with me. I got ahead of myself, and when you didn’t seem on board, I let myself get in my head about it, and I took it out on you and I shouldn’t have.” Tommy pauses there and takes a sip of his wine before continuing. “You’re incredible, Evan, and I think I just got so caught up in how quickly we’ve tackled every other stage of this relationship that I assumed this would be the same, but it’s okay if it’s not. I love you, and you needing more time before we consider that step doesn’t change that, okay?”

Once finished, Tommy reaches across the table to cover Buck’s hand in his own and Buck feels himself let out a long, steady breath. There’s so many different things flying through his head that he struggles to grasp onto one coherent thought. Eventually, he’s able to settle on the one that matters most, which is that he loves this man, quickly followed by the fact that he’d almost said yes that night, before he’d let his fear get the better of him.

“I didn’t renew my lease,” Buck blurts out, knowing that he should’ve started with literally anything else but that’s what came out and he can’t exactly take it back now.

“Evan,” Tommy says, eyes wide, and a memory of Tommy saying his name in that exact same tone flashes through Buck’s memory, only that time they’d been outside and Buck had gotten Tommy’s coffee order wrong.

“I um, I wanted to say yes, when you asked,” Buck starts, picking up the fork that he’d previously put down and fiddling with it as nervous energy rushes through him. “I was going to, a-and then, well, I got in my head a little too? The last person I moved in with, it um, it fell apart, and we’d moved in sort of early in the relationship and I just… I got scared.” He’s talking to his plate now, face heating as he feels Tommy’s hand squeeze over his. “I love you,” he says, turning his hand palm up underneath Tommy’s and squeezing back. “I loved her too, o-or I thought I did, at least, and it still fell apart. I just didn’t want that to happen with you.”

“Evan,” Tommy says again, slightly breathy as he looks at Buck with a warmth that Buck sometimes thinks is reserved just for him.

“But I-I realized that I can’t let that stop me from having what I want now, and what I want, Tommy, is to be with you.”

“Evan, are you sure?” Tommy asks, sounding a little disbelieving, and Buck can’t exactly blame him after the abrupt one-eighty he’s done.

“Yes, I am, i-if the offer is still on the table.” He really hopes it is because he wasn’t lying about choosing not to renew his lease. He could probably talk to the landlord if needed, they have a good relationship, and Buck is sure he’d prefer to keep things as is over having to search for a new tenant. But still, he’s really hoping he won’t need to do that.

“Of course it’s still on the table,” Tommy says emphatically, looking a little dazed.

Before Buck can answer they’re interrupted by their waiter checking in on them and offering dessert. Neither of them has to think very long about it before they’re ordering a slice of carrot cake to share. He feels giddy as they exchange excited glances over their shared cake.

“So, about my couch…” Buck says when they’re about halfway through their cake, trailing off as he lets the sentence hang there. They’d been discussing the finer points of Buck moving in with Tommy but had yet to address furniture.

“I seem to recall you making a big deal in the past about my couch being your favourite,” Tommy responds with a grin. “But-” he interrupts Buck before he can retort, holding up a hand, “as you already know, I have been working on finishing the basement. If you bring your set over, then that just means we won’t need to buy new furniture. Win-win.”

“I like the way you think,” Buck agrees. Grinning, Buck takes another bite of cake, not missing the way Tommy eyes his mouth as he slides the spoon out from between his lips.

Tommy takes a bite of his own, and then gives a mournful look to the near empty plate. “We should have ordered two slices,” he says with a mournful sigh.

Laughing, Buck pushes the plate towards Tommy, offering him the last of it. “We could always just order another to go,” he suggests. “There was an apple spice cake that sounded really good.”

Tommy seems to seriously consider it as he savours the last bite of their shared carrot cake before he shakes his head and looks up at Buck. “Mm, no, I think I’m going to be hungry for something else when we get home.”

Buck feels his breath hitch at the low tone coupled with the sudden heat of Tommy’s gaze. And well, Buck can definitely get on board with that, is always up for it the second Tommy so much as looks in his direction. But still- “Tommy Kinard? Turning down cake? It’s like I don’t even know you,” he teases, unable to help himself.

“Baby,” he says, voice husky as he leans forward over the table, “I think you’ve misunderstood. No one said anything about turning down cake. I’ve just decided I want an entirely different variety… one not offered on restaurant menus.” He gives Buck a wink before he sits back and flags down their waiter for their check and Buck… Buck thinks he’s going to have trouble walking out of this restaurant without embarrassing himself. Tommy eyes him as he pays the bill, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smug smirk as he stands from his seat. “You coming, babe?”

Not yet, he thinks, but definitely later. “I um, yeah, yes,” he says before clumsily getting out of his seat, hip knocking into the sharp corner of the table. Tommy’s laugh fills the space between them and Buck wishes he could bottle it because it’s quickly becoming his favourite sound.

As they leave the restaurant he looks over at Tommy, who’s grinning back at him and has the realization that he gets to have this. The laughter and the belonging and the bone deep love that he feels, he gets to have it, it’s his to keep if he’s brave enough to take it.

Standing next to Tommy, it’s easy to feel brave.

Link

#bucktommy #tevan #kinkley #fox writes #unbeta'd #just a quick little fic i wrote tonight #based on info we've gotten from interviews

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hells-wasabii · 8 months

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A/N: in case it isn’t obvious this is another heavy work, so do with that information as you will. I took a completely different approach to this one than the one with Velvette, I don’t feel that Carmilla would actually act on the information unless it was something you explicitly expressed desire for. I didn’t fully proof read this either so lemme know if I’ve made any mistakes

Character: Carmilla

Type: Fic (Carmilla x fem!reader who had abusive ex, Angst, Fluff)

You had just wanted a cup of coffee. That’s all it had been. Coffee and a muffin during an early morning in hell.

It should have been simple. It was simple. But still, you found yourself tucked into a booth with your face buried in your hands on the verge of a breakdown.

And yet your heart still pounded away in your chest. One moment had been fine, and the next notes of an all too familiar cologne met your nose. You would have recognized that scent anywhere, the notes of pine stinging your nostrils. It was the sort that did little to cover the smell of cigarettes, you remembered. The smell was burned in your mind, embedded in the deepest recesses of your worst memories. Fuck, you hated it.

With each panicked breath that entered your lungs, your fear grew. Screwing your eyes shut you tried to will yourself to calm down. They weren’t here, you tried to remind yourself. You needed something to ground you, anything. And so with shaking hands, you wrapped them around your cup. The heat seeped through the porcelain and into your palms, but even still it wasn’t enough.

All at once, it was like you could hear everything and nothing at all. It felt akin to drowning. And you were alone with no one to save you. It was a fact that only served to unsettle you more. You couldn’t help but wonder, would the other patrons jump to your aid should they make an appearance? Or would they turn a blind eye and whisper amongst themselves just as they did when you lived?

They weren’t here, you tried to remind yourself. They weren’t even in the same city for fucks sake. You’d made damn sure of that when you chose to settle in Pentagram City. Rationally, you knew this, but it did little to settle your nerves. You thought that you had done so well to make progress, but now you weren’t so sure. Had all that work to get away really been for nothing? Maybe you really should have killed the bastard sooner…

You screwed your eyes close tightly, gripping the hot cup even tighter. The cup in your hand burned, but you didn’t care. It helped ground you to reality. This would pass, you told yourself just as you had countless times before. It had to.

But you couldn’t help but half expect them to slide into the booth opposite of you.

Your blood ran cold when you heard the door to the shop open. The thought of potentially getting up from your seat and quickly leaving the cafe sprung to your mind, yet you remained frozen in place.

A soft conversation between three women met your ears, light-hearted. It’s not much but the voices sooth you, even from across the cafe. It wasn’t them.

Once more the noises melded together, a horrible amalgamation that was quickly becoming too much.

A sharp gasp left your lips as you felt a hand rest upon your shoulder. You nearly spilled your coffee as fear flooded your senses. Your head whipped around to find a tall demon with white hair and sharp eyes staring back at you, looking almost as surprised as you felt. You realized that you recognized the woman as she quickly retracted her hand, as though if she weren’t careful she would burn you.

Carmilla Carmine, the biggest name in arms dealing in the pride ring. A powerful overlord whose reach even extended to the other rings. You knew each other, or at least knew of each other.

The overlord's eyes scanned your features, taking only a moment to gather herself before she spoke. “Are you alright?”

You didn’t reply at first, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Instead, you nod, shifting under the arms dealer’s gaze. She stood there, silent, as if she were deciding something.

“Girls,” Carmilla called out gently after a moment, and soon two younger women were at her side. Her daughters, you realized. “Go on without me, I believe I’ll stay just a bit longer.”

The overlord’s daughters looked between themselves and then back to their mother. Both of the young women seemed to have a look of understanding when the one in the white coat replied. “We’ll see you at home, mother.” Carmilla watched as they left, setting her drink at the table as she settled into the booth opposite of you.

“Now, would you like to talk about what’s going on?”

Truly, you couldn’t understand it. You had only spoken once, maybe twice before and that had been in the company of others. Why was she doing this? You couldn’t help but wonder if something like this was what you had so desperately wished for when you still breathed. And so you let this woman distract you from your panic.

What followed was a conversation that would change your afterlife. While you didn’t dive into specifics. You expressed your fears, and her, understanding and support.

Eventually, the conversation drifted to other things. The conversations that fell between the two of you felt effortless. She had gotten you to smile, to laugh even. You had felt a rare sense of pride when you had managed a chuckle out of the overlord in return. You weren’t sure you had felt this at ease in a long time.

To be quite honest, you hadn’t even realized how long you sat in that cafe with the overlord until Carmilla’s phone began to buzz, her screen lighting up as a few messages appeared on its screen.

“I’m afraid that’s my cue.” The arms dealer sighed, seeming a touch disappointed as she rose from the booth. Though she took a pause, her eyes locking with yours again a moment. She reached into her pocket, receiving what had appeared to be her receipt from earlier, and quickly jotted something down on the receipt before she folded it neatly. “It seems my daughters are expecting me home for a late lunch.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,“ Carmilla slid the folded receipt in front of you, offering one last gentle smile before she left. And so you watch her go, offering a small ‘yeah,’ though you doubt that she heard.

Once she had exited the cafe it was like you had broken out of a chance. With a shake of your head, you sank back into your seat as you turned your attention to the slip that the overlord had left behind for you. Carefully you took it into your hands.

Your eyes widened as you opened the folded slip, revealing her name and phone number.

‘In case you want to talk more.’

#hazbin hotel #hazbin imagine #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel x reader #carmilla carmine x reader #carmilla carmine #carmilla x reader #hazbin hotel carmilla

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skelliko · 11 months

Text

★-Tokyo revengers

- their insecure

๑-Context: them thinking about their crush (you) but then they start to get insecure and self sabotage about not being good enough

๑- featuring: kazutora, chifuyu, keisuke, seishu, rindou

-for seishu it was so hard because I know that boy is perfect-

°- kazutora hanemiya

• everything, he thinks of every little thing about him but manages to miss the bigger parts about him that does need fixing. his main thought was that no one as good as you would want to be seen around someone like kazutora due to his delinquency, heck even if you've also done some bad stuff he's still afraid that he'd just bring you down and be an awful influence on you.

for someone who went to juvenile for 'accidental' murder and is in quite a dangerous gang, thats a good reputation to hold in terms of strength, but for wanting something other than fights and instead something innocent like feeling what it's like to be loved... that's difficult.

• he also still dislikes how his face looks, to others he's handsome. to himself, he's nothing but a shit show that he looks deep and hard in the mirror with a straight face but then his expression changes to disgust.

sometimes he thinks if you've also felt like that, he's asked his friends about that sort of thing and the response is always 'sometimes' but when he thinks about you being insecure he feels like he's gone mad because to him you're absolutely perfect.

°- chifuyu matsuno

• sometimes he feels as if he can't protect you, there are times where he pictures out scenarios and he's afraid that he can't keep you safe due to where gangs would get the innocent involved even when they have nothing to do with either of the two bickering gangs and that always ends badly.

he doesn't want you to become a target and he's scared that his strength alone wouldn't deal with anything and you'd get involved in something that you didn't have a choice in. due to that he's forcing himself to stay away from you but part of him can't, he calls himself selfish for talking to you and going out in public with you where anyone would be watching.

• he wants to make you his but how can he keep you as his when there's a lot of options to choose from? he's afraid that there's someone better than him, that eventually you'd lose interest in chifuyu and that's not because he doesn't trust your trust but he's seen other guys and how they easily attract and how they can go on the day confident, chifuyu can't and he can't see that it's not because there's something wrong with him but it's just because he's not a player and he can't see that for himself or others.

°- Keisuke Baji

• when it comes to Baji he knows hes a good looker and as well as the heart, but sometimes in school he'd see you walk in the hallways and he gets a little embarrassed that he turns the opposite direction in hopes of you not seeing him in his nerdy disguise just so the school doesn't kick him out or hold him back for his delinquency. his slicked back hair that he honestly spends time on and is proud in the moment, but when he looks at it for too long he has to hold back on scruffing it up and going to school like his normal self.

You're aware of how he looks outside of school but not everyone does, he's nervous that if you're seen talking to him then he'd just embarrass you, and because of that he thinks you're embarrassed to talk to him too and you force yourself to, even if you've held conversations for a long amount of time and you seem to enjoy it with a smile Baji has a little worm in his brain telling him otherwise

• held back a year for him failing his exams, sure someone being smart isn't exactly a top priority for some people but he thinks you're one of them and he curses himself for not having the academic smarts for it, he'd sometimes compare himself to someone else in his class and think 'how the fuck are they able to memories this and I can't?' In all honesty though academics is pretty hard when you've got other stuff going on too

°- seishu Inui

• his burn mark isn't exactly something that bothers him but whenever he thinks of you and gets a glimpse of the mark from a window he can't help but think that it bothers you. he tends to get a little frustrated about it and whenever he thinks too much of the mark his frustration ends up in sadness because all the memories of the fire and his sister come rushing in.

• whenever he looks at you he can't keep his eyes away, he's always in awe at everything you do. but what does seishu do? getting hurt in gangs here and there and making bad decisions for himself? he knows his skills and the good of him but he also knows his flaws and he can't stand that. he wants to do so much more but he can't, he doesn't know how to and he doesn't want to disappoint you in any sort of way yet he always manages to disappoint himself

°- rindou haitani

• sometimes he considers himself to be in his brother's shadow, he hasn't thought of it like that at all but rindou would pick some things out and then look at his brother and that sense of being younger than him equals to being lower, his older brother seems to always do great causing jealousy to grow. it's like regular sibling rivalry, nothing major but it does linger around his brain that maybe at somepoint if given the chance you'd run right over to ran inside of rindou

• rindou knows the reputation that he holds, the dangers that he keeps with his gang. and one of those dangers also happens to the innocent. he's been foolish to be part of those sort of things before and karma always plucks out the ones that finally find something to be happy about. he doesn't want you to accidentally get involved and get hurt or even killed.

considering that the haitani brothers are quite well known if anyone were to see the sentimental value that rindou has for you, then you will become a target from other gangs that want to take the brothers down. rindou looks through multiple of scenarios as to how or where that could happen and in all of those scenarios the date is all unexpected. rindou's afraid that he'd be the reason to you getting hurt from someone else and he won't be there.

♡---

#tokyo revengers #kazutora #kazutora hanemiya #baji keisuke #baji #baji x reader #kazutora x reader #chifuyu x reader #matsuno chifuyu #chifuyu #seishu inui #inui #rindou #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #seishu x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers angst

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charnelhouse · 2 years

Note

I’m not saying soap would definitely eat ghosts cum out of red but …

A/N: Ghost x F!Reader (Red Fox) x Soap. Mentions of painful sex/dp.

It’s between the three of them. The moments are rare, but they happen. All those near-death experiences. All that bloodshed and adrenaline working through them like dry, rasping kindling ready for a fire.

“Fuck, lass,” Soap mumbles against her throat, fingers knotting in her hair. “Yah make me feel like I'm burnin’.”

She’s trembling, her lashes wet and clumped together, and a terrible bruise creeping across her cheekbone, swelling something fierce. Ghost’s enormous hands latch onto her hips. He cocks his head, blue eyes breaking ground as they meet Soap’s. It took him a long time to realize that Simon even had blue eyes due to all the coal-dark war paint hiding the truth of them.

Simon’s thumb sweeps over the bruise on Red’s cheek. He presses his naked lips to it, and she shudders. “I’d kill the bastard again,” he declares. “I’d kill him a thousand fuckin’ times, duchess.”

Soap seals his front to her back, touching her between her legs. He lives for how she gets wet and locks up tight like a monkey fist knot.

He calls her a calamity. He calls her a hurricane, banshee, and siren and says it with so much deference that you’d think he was the one in love, not Simon.

Fuck it. Maybe, he is.

Maybe, he’s a foolish mad cunt.

***

When he walks in on them, he isn’t sure if it’s an accident or another invitation.

He assumes that nothing Red or Ghost do is ever unintentional.

The hallway is full of shadows and gray-blue moonlight. 3 am. A safe house in Cork. The air here smells like yellow furze and cider, and Red demanded they take her to the butter museum.

Ghost has her cheek shoved against the wall as he fucks her from behind. Her linen sleep shorts are around her ankles, her back arched, and her legs kicked apart. Ghost claims her in long, powerful strokes, and she’s nearly forced onto her toes each time he drives to the hilt. The flesh of her ass quivers, and her teeth flash white as she bites down on her lower lip.

Their noises are low and quiet - everything wrapped in tissue paper and wool.

He steps closer, and Ghost turns his head to look at him. His mask is on, his eyes glinting like bits of black glass as he coaxes her through it. Soap doesn’t know what Ghost calls her in the dark. He doesn’t know everything they discuss when they’re curled up together, when they communicate through expression alone.

He watches as Ghost’s pace grows sloppy. He’s breathing hard, his hand on her waist visibly tightening as he braces his other hand on her shoulder. Soap continues forward. The team is sleeping below them. Just a floor away.

He knows he won’t get instructions here. This is all just instinct. The three of them functioning as a single unit as they have done out on the field. The only wrinkle in the fabric is that he can’t wind himself into the golden net that holds them together.

You must love her then.

Shut up, Johnny.

He knows he has a place with them, more so than the rest of the team, but sometimes he wishes he could have more. He wishes he could absorb the two of them to understand what scuttles through their heads day in and day out.

“Fuckk,” Simon rasps, sinking to the root as he empties himself. “Good girl…bloody fuckin’ good for me….I want-”

The words dwindle to red-hot coals. He whispers them into her ear so that Soap misses the rest.

It’s not an accident.

When he eases himself out of Red, she flinches. Simon’s cock hangs heavy between his legs, shiny with Red’s cunt. Soap wonders if he’s branded her insides, if he’s left his mark by stretching her to her limit. Soap scrubs a hand over his jaw before pushing a lock of Red’s hair out of her eyes. “Too sore for me, bonnie?”

Foxy. Red. Red. Red.

Sometimes all he can see is the color red: sunsets, blood, wine, and cough medicine.

She leans into Soap’s touch. “No,” she returns - all sharp and sturdy. It would take a million sticks of dynamite to unmoor her. “I can take you, Johnny.”

Once, they’d fucked her at the same time. Simon worked his way into her ass as Soap kept her impaled on his cock. It was too much. Even though they’d prepped her, she was digging her nails so deeply into Soap’s shoulders he started bleeding. She didn’t say a word. She wouldn’t admit failure until Simon finally had to stop because he could sense it, smell it off her. It was like his special telepathy: knowing when Red was in pain.

I want to be part of it - part of that.

Soap had had various girlfriends throughout his life. First loves. Temporary affairs.

Not like this. Nothing like this.

She flips her hair over her shoulder as she casts Soap one of those Siren-stares that uproot him, shove him off his axis. He moves behind her, dragging a palm down her spine, catching in the wrinkles of her cotton shirt. Ghost is tucking himself back into his pants before leaning against the wall, massive arms crossing over an enormous chest.

“Be good to her, Johnny,” he warns.

“When is he not?” Red murmurs defensively, and oh, that rides his lungs, fills his chest with warmth and flickering wings. She trusts him.

“I know,” Ghost mutters. “I know that.

Soap likes that too.

“What’s he done to you, lass,” he husks as he crouches, his hands on her ass as he spreads her apart so he can see what Ghost has done to her pussy. It’s dark, all soaked and swollen as milky seed drips down the lips of her sex and the insides of her thighs.

He wants to do something new. Imbibe both of them. He wants a piece of what they have, and they’ve already given him a key. His off-white invitation.

Slowly, he leans forward and glides the flat of his tongue through her folds. She shivers and jerks a little, and Soap knows he’s caught her off guard. He presses harder, and buries his face into her from behind. It practically forces her up the wall, onto her toes, just as Ghost did as he fucked her.

He laps indecently, flicks her clit, and teases her entrance. He savors the salt and the skin, and his face is so embedded into her ass and cunt that he might just meld with her flesh. He feels Ghost trace his hairline with a gloved finger before he fists his short hair. It encourages Soap to lick further and then pump his fingers into her already fucked-out pussy.

The act of it is crude and filthy. It’s nothing he’s ever done before, and it makes him painfully aroused. He can’t imagine what the rest of 141 would see if they crept up the stairs and found them. Soap on his knees, spreading his teammate open as he devours L.T. 's come out of her.

Doesn’t matter.

None of it does.

It’s theirs. Just this. This interlude in a moonlit hallway miles from their next mission.

#simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x John soap mactavish #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mw22 #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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reysdriver · 2 years

Text

Beautiful Boy | J.P.

James struggles to keep his cool when you go into labour — james x fem!reader fluff

warnings: reader giving birth (but not graphic or anything)

words: 1k

You laid on the bed in St. Mungos, James at your side. The potion a medi-witch gave you a few minutes ago was starting to kick in, and the pain was subsiding. You were warned that it wasn't going to help for the whole time, but you were only concerned about stopping the pain at that very moment.

The same medi-witch checked your dilation, and her report disappointed you. "You're almost ready to have this baby. You've still got a few centimetres to go, maybe two or three. It's just a waiting game right now."

You didn't want to wait. You wanted that baby out right away.

"Why does she have to wait? Can't we speed this up somehow?" James asked.

She shook her head. "The baby will come when her cervix is about ten centimetres dilated. Right now, she's only about seven or eight." She showed the measurements with her fingers, and James' face flushed.

The witch then left, promising to come back and check up on you in a few minutes.

"Love, I know I've told you nonstop how proud I am of you, but I really want to tell you again." James said to you. "I can't even imagine—"

You didn't mean to cut him off, but another wave of pain crashed over you and it was impossible for a groan to have not escaped your lips. You squeezed his hand so hard you were sure you were passing the pain onto him.

"Is that a contraction?"

"Yes, James." You said tearily. "When I make that noise and squeeze your hand every few minutes, it's because of contractions."

He held your hand and breathed with you every time you had a contraction after that.

You had healers coming in and out of your room every ten minutes or so, and after about an hour, finally one of them told you that you were ready to push.

Even though you had told your husband he didn't have to be in the room with you once you started active labour, he insisted on being right by your side. He should have listened to you, since it was obvious he was spiralling. He was asking a million questions, his eyes were wide and frightened, and it looked like he was going to pass out.

You wanted to gently get him out of the room before he needed more medical attention than you. "Jamie, honey. Why don't you go get some ice to chew on? You love that. Or you could go update everyone on how we're doing?"

He knew he was freaking out. Everyone in the room knew. He just really didn't want to leave you alone. "No, I'm fine. I'm great, love."

One of the healers tried getting James out too. "Sir, you really don't want to be here for the worst part. Your wife will be very well taken care of under our care, you don't need to worry."

James looked to you with a guilty expression. He was torn between staying and leaving, so you assured him you were alright.

He kissed you, quickly said how much he loves you, then reluctantly left the room.

✦✧✦✧✦

You called James back in after it was all over. Your baby boy was in a bassinet next to the bed, and James' eyes started welling with tears the moment he saw you two.

"Hi, Jamie." You said as he walked closer.

He sat at the side of your bed and leaned down to kiss you gently but passionately. "I love you. I'm so proud of you." He told you in between light kisses scattered across your face.

You smiled at both his praise and his touch. You could have sworn it was really helping to heal the pain. "Do you want to meet your son or are you just going to keep kissing me?"

His kisses stopped, but his hands remained holding your face as he let out a little laugh. "I wish I could do both." He looked back at the bassinet and let out a sigh. You nodded as a sign of encouragement, and he stood up and went over to your baby.

He was half-asleep, so James was incredibly careful in picking him up. He held an arm under his little dark curls, and James noted all of his other features. Your eyes were passed down, but all of his other traits so far were from James.

"Hello, my beautiful boy. I'm so excited you're here."

You were surprised at James' soft tone. Usually, he was hyper and loud, and you had spent the majority of your pregnancy telling him off whenever he was talking to your baby bump and made a dirty joke. Now, he was speaking at a volume just above a whisper and it was adorable watching them.

"Your mum and I have been waiting such a long time, but she's been through a lot more to get you here than I have. She's so strong, you're gonna love her just as much as she loves you already."

Your husband looked over to you for a second, then looked back at the baby in his arms.

"She's looking at you with the most adorable smile right now. She's probably watching 'cause she knows you're sleepy. Well, before you go to sleep, I just want to tell you that I love you, and I'm always going to be here for you, and I'll never let anything bad happen to you."

James kissed him softly on the forehead as he lowered him into the bassinet again. He walked back to your bed and you let him lay down in the thin space beside you. He went back to peppering kisses on you, and you melted into his touch.

"We should let him sleep for a little bit, then people can come in and meet him." You told your husband.

He smiled. "The boys are outside flipping coins to decide who gets to see him first."

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #marauders era #marauders fluff #harry potter #dad!james potter #dad!marauders

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koyagifs · 12 days

Text

shattered trust

pairing: Ravenclaw!Hongjoong x Hufflepuff!reader au: harry potter genre: angst | fluff | Summary: as the years go by, you never noticed the dark side of your lover.

Warning(s):

Some cursing, their ages will be aged up a bit! This fic is not meant to reflect how Ateez are in real life. This is a fanfic.

st masterlist | ateez masterlist

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖☾

Sitting in your compartment, Hongjoong by your side as Seonghwa, Mingi and Yunho sat across from you. The ride back to Hogwarts was always your favorite, the joy of seeing your friends always warms your heart. Hongjoong laid asleep on your lap, his gentle breathing creating a calming rhythm. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, a stark contrast to the lively chatter of Seonghwa, Mingi, and Yunho across from you.

“Looks like he’s finally out,” Seonghwa teased, glancing at Hongjoong with a grin.

“Someone had to keep him up during the Sorting Feast,” you replied, brushing a strand of his hair from his face.

Mingi leaned forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “You mean you were just talking his ear off? Poor guy!”

Yunho laughed, shaking his head. “Can’t blame him for dozing off. It’s been a long day.”

As the train sped through the countryside, the scenery blurring past, you felt a warm sense of belonging. You leaned back, letting the rhythmic clatter of the train soothe you. The anticipation of a new school year filled the air, and despite the challenges ahead, you knew you wouldn’t face them alone.

“What do you think the new year will bring?” you mused aloud, breaking the comfortable silence.

Seonghwa shrugged, a thoughtful expression on his face. “More adventures, I hope. And hopefully fewer detentions.”

“Yeah, right,” Mingi scoffed. “With Wooyoung around, we’ll probably have a record number.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Not if we stick together!”

Yunho nodded in agreement, and as you all exchanged hopeful glances, you felt a surge of excitement. This year better be less dramatic you thought, remembering the drama that happened since Harry Potter came to school.

You shuddered slightly at the memory of last year’s escapades, from surprise Quidditch matches to that chaos involving a rogue bludger and a rather angry hippogriff. “Honestly, I’m hoping for some peace this time,” you said, shaking your head.

“Peace? In this school?” Seonghwa chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Good luck with that!”

“Hey, we could at least try!” you countered, your smile returning. “Besides, maybe we’ll get some new classes that’ll keep us busy. I heard there’s a new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Mingi perked up at that. “Really? What do you think they’ll be like?”

“Hopefully not another one who goes mad halfway through the year,” Yunho added, crossing his arms.

“True, that would be nice,” you agreed, glancing at Hongjoong, who remained blissfully unaware of the conversation, still sleeping peacefully. “But whatever happens, at least we have each other.”

The train rattled on, and you caught glimpses of the lush greenery outside. You could almost feel the magic in the air, a mix of anticipation and nostalgia. The thought of another year filled with spells, laughter, and unexpected surprises made your heart race.

Just then, Mingi leaned back, pretending to think deeply. “You know, if we’re going to have more adventures, we should definitely come up with a team name!”

“A team name?” you echoed, amused.

“Absolutely! Something cool and epic!” he insisted, gesturing dramatically.

“Alright, let’s hear it,” you challenged, leaning in with a grin.

“Um… how about ‘The Daring Duelists’?” he suggested, striking a heroic pose.

You all burst into laughter, and even Hongjoong stirred slightly, blinking awake to the joyful chaos. “What’s going on?” he mumbled, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

“Just discussing our epic team name!” you said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Please tell me it’s better than ‘The Daring Duelists,’” he chuckled, stretching his arms.

“Let’s just say we’ll work on it,” Yunho replied, a teasing glint in his eye.

With that, the conversation flowed seamlessly, filled with laughter and friendly banter, as the Hogwarts Express carried you closer to another unforgettable year that is unbeknownst to you all.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁

You sat beside your fellow Hufflepuffs as the sorting feast, conversing this years plan to win the house cup. Feeling a pair of eyes, you looked around until you noticed Hongjoong eyeing you. You waved, causing him to blush as he noticed that he was caught. As you waved at Hongjoong, his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, and he quickly looked down at his plate, trying to act nonchalant. You noticed Mingi confusion before he looked where Hongjoong was just staring at before he chuckled, shaking his head as he began to tease Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but giggle at how easily he was flustered.

A felt a tap from behind, turning to see Yeosang, Seonghwa, Jongho and Wooyoung a smirk plastered on their face as they noticed the interaction between you and Hongjoong.

“Looks like we’ve ruined a moment,” Yeosang said, his smirk growing as he leaned towards you.

You turned to face them, a mix of embarrassment and amusement flooding through you. " clearly you Gryffindors have no idea what you're talking about"

They laughed as Wooyoung put a hand over his heart dramatically. “Ouch! A direct hit!”

“Don’t worry, we’re just here to support your blossoming romance,” Yeosang teased, leaning closer. “Consider us your cheer squad!”

“More like a bunch of gossips,” you shot back, grinning despite yourself.

Jongho piped up, “We’re just trying to help you out! Imagine how epic it would be if you two ended up together and we had the inside scoop!”

“Yeah, imagine the stories we could tell!” Wooyoung added, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can already picture the headlines: ‘Hufflepuff Heartthrob Caught in a Love Triangle!’”

You shook your head, laughing. “You all are impossible.”

“Just remember,” Seonghwa said, a playful glint in his eye, “we’re here to make sure you don’t miss your chance. We’ve got your back!”

As the laughter continued, you felt a warm glow of friendship surrounding you. But then you noticed Hongjoong glancing your way again, his expression more curious than before. For a moment, your heart raced at the thought of him actually being interested.

“Okay, okay, enough!” you finally declared, trying to regain some composure.

They laughed again before they turned back to their table, Dumbledore standing up to give his usual speech before declaring dinner was over.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁

There all 7 of you sat at the quidditch field, watching Mingi and Hongjoong practice as they soared through the air on their broomsticks, the wind whipping through their hair. You leaned back against the bleachers, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the field. The rest of your friends—Seonghwa, San, Yunho, Yeosang, Jongho, and Wooyoung—were scattered around, chatting and enjoying the show.

" i think Ravenclaw has the quidditch cup this year. Better watch out Gryffindorks," You said, smirking at the four proud lions that huffed in annoyance.

"laugh it up little badger, we have Jongho on the team now," Yunho said.

You turned your attention back to the field, where Hongjoong was effortlessly gliding through the air, weaving around Mingi with impressive agility. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, his confidence radiating as he practiced his shots on goal. You couldn’t help but admire his determination.

“Look at him go,” you muttered, a small smile creeping onto your face. “He’s really in his element.”

San, overhearing you, smirked. “See? Even you can’t deny he’s got skills.”

“Fine, I’ll admit it,” you said, half-heartedly, glancing back at your friends. “He’s good.”

“Good? More like phenomenal!” Wooyoung shot back, laughing. “Just wait until the first match. He’ll have all the Ravenclaws trembling.”

" just admit it ynie~ you have a crush on our Hongjoongie" Seonghwa said, tickling your sides making you squeal.

You burst into laughter, squirming away from Seonghwa’s fingers. “Stop it! I do not!” you protested, though your cheeks were undoubtedly flushed.

“Oh, come on! It’s written all over your face,” San chimed in, his playful smirk growing wider. “You can’t hide it from us!”

Just as you were about to deny once more, Mingi and Hongjoong landed near by. Wooyoung was going to tease you once more before you took your wand out and casted out Silencio. With a flick of your wand, the spell took effect, and suddenly, the teasing voices of your friends fell silent. They looked at you in surprise, their mouths moving but no sound escaping. You couldn’t help but grin at the success of your spell.

You smiled, blowing them a kiss as you began your decent down the stairs to met Hongjoong and Mingi. Wooyoung, ever the dramatic one, pretended to act out a silent scream, clutching his heart. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. You pulled Hongjoong by his practice shirt, giving him a peck on his cheek that made him blush profusely. Mingi let out a whine, " where's mine little badger?"

You turned to Mingi, placing a kiss on his cheek as well. Both boys now blushing profusely. The footsteps of everyone launching from their seats, their voices coming back as you lifted up the spell from them. As the spell lifted, the air filled with laughter and playful banter once more. Wooyoung dramatically clutched his chest, feigning a swoon. “What is this madness? Kisses flying everywhere!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, enjoying the moment as both Hongjoong and Mingi tried to hide their embarrassment. “Just spreading some love!” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye.

The boys all crowded you, begging for a kiss from you as Mingi and Hongjoong howled with laughter.

#angst #ateez imagines #kim hongjoong x y/n #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong ateez #hongjoong ateez #hongjoong angst #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong x y/n #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #hongjoong x reader ateez #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez fanfic

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peonysgreenhouse · 6 months

Text

the ghost of you. (welt yang x reader)

summary: welt finds another version of 'you' among the stars.

tags: welt yang x gn!reader, reader is implied to have been a valkyrie, light spoiler's for hi3rds second eruption, implied march 7th/stelle, sorry for hurting the old man </3

It takes Welt months to rebuild his body.

He had known how the war ended; known that the Void Queen was neutralized and that the Abyss Flower had done much to mitigate the causalities of the war. Welt tells himself that he did all he could, and hopes one day that he can believe it.

Though, he can tell something is amiss. His body and mind may still be getting used to having shape again, but Tesla and Einstein are quieter around him, gentle, even. Even if he could hardly walk they would never treat him like he was fragile; they had been proponents of tough love since he was a child.

Maybe he should contact you and see what was going on... Einstein and Tesla were always more open with you, anyways.

Still relearning his steps, Welt limps out of his room and into the main atrium. Einstein speaks on her comm to Amber, while Tesla types behind her hologram's screen.

"You--?! What are you doing out of the infirmary?" Tesla huffs, quickly wiping her eyes on her sleeves. Einstein turns to face Welt, then hangs up her comm quickly.

"Relax, I'm fine." Despite his words, he finds himself gripping the side of a desk to keep himself upright. "Just wanted to check in with a special someone. It's been too long since I've heard from them, I want to make sure all is well where they are."

Einstein and Tesla share grave looks, Einstein immediately getting up and leaving the room afterwards. Tesla bites her lip, slamming her fist down on the table before grabbing a manila envelope, crossing the room over to Welt with an angry stride.

She hands him the report with watery eyes, apologizes with a gentle touch to his shoulder, then exits the room.

Welt immediately knows something was very wrong. Tesla rarely was emotional without getting angry; if it was something that he did wrong, he'd be sitting in a lecture right now. Besides, she had already scolded him for playing hero. This was something much worse.

His mind works in autopilot, he falls into the empty seat at the desk. Welt pulls the report into his lap, and his heart sinks when he sees it's your Valkyrie profile. His eyes move to the bottom of the page, fighting the panic welling up in his chest.

19xx - Killed in battle against the Herrscher of the Void alongside Cheng Lixue. Body retrieved by Schicksal.

Welt reads the words over and over, as if the repetition would somehow change their meaning. His eyes dart up to see the picture of you in the corner of your file. In the picture you were shining, alive.

You were just 18, then, recently graduated from St. Freya's. He hadn't met you yet, but you had told him many stories about your time there. You even expressed interest in teaching there one day, once you weren't needed on Squad Snow Wolf.

Welt sets the folder on his desk in a neat pile, and buries his face in his hands. He should have been there; should have known you would've done something reckless. He could save billions of people as a Herrscher, but he couldn't save the one person who he loved more than the world.

Welt hopes that in your last moments, you knew how loved you were.

When Tesla comes to check on him later, he's asleep, but she can see that he had been grieving. His face is red, eyes puffy; curled up like he intended to suffer alone. Just like he did as a boy.

-`♡´-

It was meant to be a quick stop at a smaller planet. Somewhere near the Xianzhou Luofu where they could rest after they dealt with the Stellaron crisis. Himeko asserted that all of them deserved a little break.

Himeko ended up choosing a rich planet that traded often with the Luofu; they even had a huge shopping district that March 7th just had to see. March 7th had dragged Stelle and himself along for the trip, and somewhere along the line he had gotten separated from the pair of lovebirds.

Oh well, better to give them some time alone, he thinks.

Welt sighs as he sits down on a bench. The suns shine brightly in the sky as he takes in the sights. Outside the shopping district it was mostly quiet, save for the people training across the courtyard. If he squints hard enough, he can just barely see what they're doing.

He becomes so engrossed watching them spar that he hears it before he sees it. A loud whizzing noise that has him casting his body towards the end of the bench, away from whatever was coming straight at him.

"Apologies." The person calls, jogging on over to the bench. Another inch and the spear would've lodged into his arm. He can feel the cold radiate off of it. He scoots over as far as he can, adjusting his glasses. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think my sparring partner would dodge."

Welt finally looks up at the person who had almost killed him, and the words catch in his throat.

It was you, maybe a little taller, a little older than he remembers, but still you. There is no world, no lifetime in which he wouldn't recognize you.

Welt had thought the ghosts of those he left behind could be ignored. Himeko, Bronya, even the one who looked like Otto... he was fine worrying over them from a distance. He knew that they weren't the same people he knew; their faces might be the same, but their personalities, their destinies were not.

But you... he never expected to see you. On lonely nights he found himself pondering the what-ifs, but he dismissed the possibilities as foolish whims. Even if he did find your counterpart, it still wouldn't be the same person he knew as a best friend, as his only love.

"Joachim?" You say, and he flusters. It had been so long since he heard your voice say his name; his heart races at the mere word.

"How did you...?" He starts, clearing his throat. "How did you know my name?"

Your eyes widen in shock, hand covering your mouth. "Sorry, I didn't... You just look like someone I know. Knew."

Welt wants to press you more, he wants to surge forward and pull you close and live in your embrace for an eternity. But instead he grips his cane tighter. He needed to control himself, like he did around every other counterpart of his own world.

"I was going to say the same thing about you." Gentle. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment, not daring to breathe, lest it shatter the illusion. You're the first to look away, eyes growing glassy as you force back the tide of emotion building in your chest.

"I need to get back to training." You say simply, tapping your lance against the earth.

And before he can get your name, to see if it's the same as the you he knew, you run off back to your sparring partner.

When you're out of sight, Welt feels it hard to breathe. He shouldn't leave you behind; he should reach out his hand and talk to you. Just for a little while, just to satiate that nagging feeling taking root in his chest.

And yet he can't bring himself to follow. The world around him feels hazy, his whole body aching with longing. He walks around the grounds aimlessly until the suns set in the sky, telling himself over and over that this wasn't really you. That his incessant curiosity would only get you both hurt.

But when he closes his eyes that night, he can't help but hope that he would see you again.

-`♡´-

Your name is the same.

Though, that should be the last thing on his mind as you pull your lance out of a dead Voidranger; its body disintegrating into the ether.

"Are you guys alright?" You ask, looking only at March 7th and Stelle. Your chest heaves with effort as you sheath your lance into the ground, leaning on it for support. "I didn't think that the Antimatter Legion had a presence here... This is very troubling."

"Yes, I'm fine!" March 7th speaks first, eyes glittering with excitement. "More than fine, actually! The way you and your friend swooped in like that was so cool! Can you teach me how to do that?!"

"You want her to teach you how to... swoop?" Stelle answers, scratching her cheek in confusion.

"Ugh, you know what I mean! Like make that dramatic and dashing entrance!" March clasps her hands together, lost in some fantasy. "You have a lance, Stelle, I'm sure you could be that charming if you tried."

Stelle mumbles something, and Welt steps in before the two can start their playful bickering. Your partner, a girl that looks about Stelle's age, calls your name. Whatever words the two of you exchange next are lost on him; he rolls your name around in his mind until you turn back to March.

"If you're interested in training with us, you could always join in one of our sparring sessions." You fiddle with the sleeve of your uniform. "I'm not sure how long you guys are staying, but if you have time I'd enjoy seeing an outlander's fighting style."

"You'll do it, won't you, Stelle?" March tugs at Stelle's sleeve, and Stelle shrugs at you. "And you too, Mr. Yang!"

Welt finally meets your eyes, and you smile sheepishly, obviously not expecting March to volunteer him for the training too. After you tell her the date and time, March skips off, her hand in Stelle's.

Without the crutch of March 7th, Welt feels himself not knowing what to say to you. You refused to even look at him, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

He would be okay with the rejection. In some ways, it would be better than you accepting him. It had been twenty years since your death, but Welt was just starting to rid himself of the guilt that came from not being able to protect you.

Time could heal some wounds, others would just bleed and bleed and bleed. Your death was one he knew he would never fully recover from. Seeing another version of you older and alive only made those old wounds ache. Like this is the you he could've been chasing the stars with.

"I'm sorry for them, they're a handful." He says, voice shaky. "Thank you for stepping in, though. I didn't want the girls to have to fight on our vacation."

"It's my job." You say. "It can get pretty rowdy over here, with how close we are to the Luofu. Most people here are merchants though... If we weren't here, they couldn't protect themselves."

"That's very admirable of you." Welt remembers you saying something similar as to why you became a Valkyrie. He adjusts his glasses, hoping you don't see the flush on his cheeks. "Most people wouldn't be brave enough to take up such a calling."

You shrug. "I actually joined on a whim. My family are traders, but I just felt like the universe was telling me to join. Like protecting people was my purpose." When Welt goes silent, you add: "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this. You're not..."

"It's okay, I enjoy listening to your voice." Welt steps closer to you, but you step back. "I..." He starts, but can't bring himself to voice his feelings. To tell the you in front of him about the you from his world. "Never mind. I should go. It'll be dark soon. I... hope to see you again."

When you don't answer, he turns to leave.

"Wait." You say, clutching his sleeve. He can feel your nails dig into his arm through the fabric; Welt has to stop himself from shivering. "You're... okay, right? You didn't get hurt?"

Welt swallows, the urgency in your eyes making him feel hot. "Yes, I'm fine. You got here before it could really do much."

You hold eye contact with him, your jaw clenching tight. "I saw you step in front of them when that enemy first appeared. Are you sure it didn't hurt you?"

"...It did hit me, but I'm fine. Just some light bruising."

Your grip on him tightens. "Are you sure? I... don't want you to lie for my sake. There's a clinic nearby, I don't mind taking you there."

Welt's gaze softens. He almost wants to take up the offer to spend more time with you. "Yes, I promise you."

You release his sleeve, walking back over to retrieve your lance. He feels himself missing the contact.

"Okay, good. I just know... my Joachim would lie about that kind of thing to put my mind at ease." You shake your head, expression heavy with grief. "But you're not him. When I look at you, I forget myself. I apologize."

-`♡´-

Himeko crosses her legs, picking up her teacup on the round table in front of her. Welt squirms under her inquisitive gaze.

"You've been acting strange lately." Himeko taps a manicured nail against the glass, inhaling the scent of her 'coffee'. Welt wonders how she can stand it. "I know we both have our secrets, but something is obviously bothering you. I wish you would tell me what it is."

Welt pretends to take a sip of the coffee Himeko made him, making an exaggerated noise to show his approval. Welt had always been a tea person, anyways, and the black sludge Himeko made did not change his mind whatsoever.

"I... am not sure what you mean." He replies, eyes flicking to the floor.

"See? You can't even look at me when you say that." She rolls her eyes. "Darling, if something happened on this planet, I need to know."

Welt sighs, deeply. "Something did happen, but it's nothing you need to worry about."

"Nothing I need to know about, or nothing you want to tell me." Himeko sets her teacup down, focusing all her attention onto Welt. "I want to know if something's bothering you."

"I just... saw someone who looked like someone from my world." He swirls the coffee in his cup absentmindedly.

"Oh? Was it like what happened with Luocha?" She leans forward, red hair falling onto her shoulders. Welt can't help but think her curiosity was just like the Himeko he had once knew. He can't help but smile to himself.

"No, nothing like him." His voice is firm. "It was... someone important to me."

Her eyebrows raise, eyes bright with interest. "Oh? An old friend? ...An old flame?"

Welt takes a sip of the 'coffee'. Maybe if he died here he would be able to dodge her questions. "...Something like the latter."

"What?!" She sits back, cheshire grin on her face. "Mr. Yang, you never told me you had a lover back home!"

Welt's expression falls, and Himeko notices immediately. She quickly apologizes.

"Oh. Did... did something happen to them?" Himeko frowns sympathetically, patting his hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's fine. It was... a very long time ago." He admits. "But even so, seeing them again, even if it isn't them... I want to talk to them more. I miss their voice, I miss seeing them... Talking to them eases some of that ache."

"Then why not talk to them? To them, you're a stranger, right? It couldn't hurt anything."

"But they knew a version of me." Welt sets his coffee down, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "They knew my name instantly."

Himeko is quiet for a minute, turning his words over in her mind.

"You don't have to listen to me, but if I was in your situation... I would want to get to know them." Himeko smiles gently. "Welt, not many people get a second chance with a loved one. You don't have to feel the same way for them that you felt for the version of them that you knew, but the way I see it... It's easy to see that you feel guilty for losing them, maybe talking to them would help lessen that guilt. And if they lost their version of you, I'm sure it would be the same for them. Call it closure for the both of you."

Welt's eyes feel glassy; emotion threatening to choke him. Himeko was right. Denying himself would only leave him with one more ghost. He had enough of those for one lifetime.

"Thank you, I think I will."

-`♡´-

Welt decides to take up March 7th when she asks him to come and spar with you. Stelle decides she would go too, if only to show off for March 7th.

Stelle announces that she'll go first, and it's hard to take his eyes off the two of you. March 7th bounces excitedly on her heels beside him, cheering on Stelle as Stelle readies her lance to fight you.

You roll your shoulder, readying your own lance. Welt sees a determination in your eyes that he hadn't seen in a long while.

You and Stelle trade blows, but it was obvious that you were a much more experienced fighter. Stelle liked to overwhelm her opponents with a show of force, but you were more lithe on your feet. You move quickly, not letting any of Stelle's blows land. The you of his world was an A-rank Valkyrie, but even so you were still green to the title before your passing. Here, you seemed more confident, your moves fluid and graceful, but still powerful.

After a few rounds, Stelle concedes, running a hand through her sweaty hair. She uses her lance to propel herself off of the ground, going over to rest on the sidelines with March. You look relatively unfazed as you catch your breath.

"Mr. Yang, it's your turn!" March yells, pushing him forward. His glasses nearly fall off from the force. Maybe she should be the one fighting you...

"Well?" You say, cocking an eyebrow. You lean against your lance. "You wanna spar?"

"I don't... I mean..." Welt starts. "I didn't think I'd be fighting you."

"Aw, c'mon, Mr. Yang! Don't be scared!" March 7th winks at him. "We'll be cheering you on, right, Stelle?"

Stelle gives a lazy thumbs up, still laying in the grass. Welt sighs, knowing he can't get out of this; not when his two girls were cheering him on. And especially not when you were there, too.

"Well, alright. I suppose I can go a round or two." Welt picks up his cane; his ever reliable Star of Eden. "If you don't mind, that is."

"I'm down. Just don't go easy on me, okay?" You look serious, readying your lance. Welt nods, announcing that he's ready; it's you that makes the first move.

As you rush toward him, he realizes how much faster you were than he was. Were you holding back against Stelle? He just barely manages to dodge, losing his footing as he does so.

You take advantage of that and slam the side of your lance into his ribs, hard. Welt winces, stumbling back, managing to slow you down with the Star's gravitational powers. Stuck and slowed, you launch your lance at him, ice crystals forming underneath its path. He ducks just in time, but you've already managed to close the distance between you two. You were relentless.

You both trade blows for almost an hour after that, but it was obvious that you were wearing Welt out. Exhausted from just watching, March announces your victory, and drags you and Welt along to get victory dinner together.

Welt doesn't miss your smile as March slips her hand into yours.

-`♡´-

The cool night air doesn't bother him when he sits at your side. The indentation where your lance lodged was still in the bench; he can't help but smile.

Dinner was nice, March 7th seemed to pick up on Welt's fondness for you and made sure to have you both sit across from each other. You were a little more open when it wasn't just you and him; you laughed and told stories about your home planet. He enjoyed listening to your voice.

It was him who asked you to join him on a walk. You had seemed hesitant to accept, but did so anyways. He was glad.

"You're a very talented fighter." He says, sincere. "It's been a while since I've been bested like that."

"You were holding back." You shake your head. "I would almost be mad, but it's so like you. Or, the you I knew, I guess."

"I didn't want to hurt you." Welt grabs his ribs subconsciously; he can feel that they're already starting to bruise. "But it seems like I didn't need to hold back."

"...I just wanted to see how strong you were." You lean back, the golden hour glow making you look breathtakingly beautiful. Welt finds himself unable to look away. He wanted to commit this moment to memory before it slipped out of his grasp. "You're definitely stronger than he was. That's good."

Welt feels himself dancing on an invisible line, but he can't live with the regrets. He has to know. "What happened? To your version of me?"

You laugh, bitterly, feet kicking into the dirt. "He was always playing the hero. Rushing into danger so that no one else would have to... It was one of the things I admired about him before I started dating him. And after... it was one of the things we argued about the most."

Welt had heard this song before; you and Tesla would always scold him for acting recklessly. But he had a Herrscher core that he could rely upon, he's guessing your version of him did not.

When he's silent, you continue on. "It was just supposed to be a routine thing, you know. We were investigating a case about some stolen goods... but it turned out to be a trap. The guys expected us to come and... I was just too slow. They shot him before I even had a chance to react."

Welt puts his hand on your shoulder, but you pull away, sniffling. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know, I know. I've been told that a hundred times but... when you watch someone you love bleed out in front of you and you can't do anything... It just feels like it was. Like I should've been more careful or something." You shake your head. "Joachim was... he was supposed to be a teacher, anyways. He joined us because he needed the money. He shouldn't have been there."

Welt adjusts his glasses, thinking of how similar he was to your Joachim. Maybe if he hadn't met Welt Joyce, maybe if he didn't take up the mantle of Herrscher from him, this too would've been his fate.

"He seemed like a good man. I'm so, so sorry." Welt's voice is gentle. He wants to say more, but knows that words can do little to alleviate the pain of loss. All he can do is sit and listen.

You wipe your eyes with a sleeve, trying to even your breathing. Welt's hand lingers in the air, as if wanting to wipe away the tears spilling down your cheeks. "He was. He was the best." You sniffle, shaking your head. "I miss him every day."

"I know how you feel... I lost my version of you, too." He smiles, sympathetically. "It was over twenty years ago but I think about them every single day."

You look up at him, eyes glassy with tears. "What happened to them?"

He hadn't talked about your death since the day he found out. He didn't like to remember you that way; not when you were so vibrant in his memory, so full of life. When he talked about you, he told others his fondest memories of you. So that your memory would transcend time.

You deserved to be remembered.

"There was a... world-ending level threat on my home planet. I had fought as long as I could, but eventually I was too injured to go on. That's when... them and their squad member challenged the enemy to a fight. It was really a distraction so their friend could get away safely... They... were impaled by a lance." Welt leans forward in his lap, rubbing his face with his hands. "I always feel like I could have done more."

You touch his arm, so feather-light he's sure he imagined it. "Hey. If the other version of me volunteered to do that then... I'm sure they knew the possible outcomes." You give him a watery smile. "I don't think they would want you to feel guilty about it. I wouldn't."

Welt has to blink back tears. It was beyond cathartic, hearing that in your voice. "The other version of me wouldn't want you to feel any guilt either. It wasn't your fault, what happened. You deserve to be at peace."

You nod, slowly. He can still sense some hesitancy from you; it seemed your wound was much fresher than his own. Maybe if he kept reminding you then you would one day believe it.

The night grows dark as the two of you sit there, in a peaceful silence. You both think on happier days, and soon your head falls onto his shoulder.

"Maybe... maybe a change of scenery will help." Welt says, the stars above as your only witness. "What would you say about coming on a trip on the Astral Express with me?"

#welt yang x reader #welt yang #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai impact 3rd #hi3rd x reader #imagine #angst #hurt/comfort #x reader #fic #:^)

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kiirotoao · 3 months

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Dani @will80sbyers with all of your s3 posts you’re making the gears turn… I can’t believe that the season where Mike and El have the most romantic screen time is also the one where they’re so unserious?? I get that s3 is the dawn of teenager-hood and the messes that come with new emotions and decision-making prowess (failure), but to focus all of that on Mike and El is wild.

Mike is always like “they’re conspiring against me” and blaming Max for making El “spy” on them, and he’s so focused on blame. It’s not his fault for anything he does, which is an incredibly immature mindset, especially towards your supposed lover. It’s not even his fault for Will not liking girls, too. We all know the line and the hurt that he brought with it. So amongst all those offenses, when he looks back, who does he look back to? Who does he show to have offended most and desire to reconcile blame with?

It’s so obvious who he truly cares for. He’s not confused over Will’s emotion. He knows when he hurts him. Meanwhile, he’s making the most confused and detached-from-the-point faces at El when she points out how he hurt her.

Mike cannot read the room when El’s in it. But he can when Will isn’t. That’s true attachment and connection.

And don’t even get me started on the fact that El’s having the time of her life with Max and not Mike. In fact, Elmax’s love throughout this season alone powers El to connect so deeply with Max that she’s able to bring Max back to life after clinical death. In one season.

For the kids, season 3 is about Max being a girl’s girl to El as she dumps Mike’s ass, Lucas being a bro’s bro to Mike while he barely beats a single allegation against him, and Will the Wise ultimately being a fucking boss (with the floundering Sir Mike at his feet as seen above).

Even in such a funny and lively season, it can’t get any clearer to me how much Mike and Will’s relationship is foundational to the emotional storyline of ST and what true love means. Just look at this scene. I remember first watching it and being so moved by how suddenly, between all the bright summer sun, Nancy’s fun dresses, the perpetual noise and laughter, we get this.

This is an argument that bursts because of love. They’re trying to reconnect and understand why they don’t see eye-to-eye anymore. It comes with hurt, but doesn’t love come with hurt? A parent’s discipline. A flesh-wound to heal. Holding someone when they’re crying. Giving up something that you wanted or had. Arguing before you realize your mistakes and come together again. Love does not come when you dump someone who’s not adding to your life. Or when you eat your feelings away instead of facing the problem. Or when you try to fill your apology with material goods. Or when you give compliments. Or especially, love does not happen when you can’t express it.

Love persists against all testing, and we see how that doesn’t work out for Mike and El who stay broken up until the very last second but Mike and Will get back together as a team within the next episode. And people still dare to say that Byler isn’t going to happen? Okay.

#byler #byler analysis #stranger things 3 #a tribute to the most underrated season #mike wheeler i know what you are #shout out to Elmax they’re wonderful #anti mileven

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tai0miemi · 5 months

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For you, my favorite moralists♡

Caution! The topic of dark content, transophobia (as it seems to some), double standards and hypocrisy

English is not my native language, I express myself as best I can, OK?

This post is dedicated to all the freaking moralists who, because of fake characters, bully real writers and people who read what they like.

Are you worried that a child/teenager will see inc*st/r*pe topics, but for some reason you think it's okay not to put tags in works where there are trans people?

The authors of dark content set an age limit in bold text, write a bunch of tags and warnings so that your delicate brain does not deteriorate, at the same time as the authors writing about trans!reader × character or trance!character does not put anything at all most often.

I'm tired of you. I don't want to read the work and in the middle realize that a female reader has a d*ck. I don't want to read a work where a biologically male character turns out to have a vag*na. PUT IT DOWN. FUCKING. TAGS. So that people can just block you and not read it.

I'm not opposed to your writing, I just don't like it and that's okay. We're all different people and we like different things. However, I am fed up with moralists that in every tag that they do not like they make a tragedy of universal scale and then humiliate the authors who write it while they do not care about such a topic with trances. Seriously? Do you think that if a child sees these works, then it's ok? If you're against it, then you're fucking hypocrites. Leave the authors of dark content alone.

And here's another thing. I really "like" when they write "mention of female anatomy" in job warnings. Hmm, I wonder who it is? I don't even know if this creature is called a WOMAN. And leave your comments about the sex change, an artificial hole between the legs is not a biological vag*na, OK?

Do not write comments, do not like or reblog. This post was made with the sole purpose of attracting attention and adding kirosine to the fire♡

UPD: Thank you all for promoting the discussion, thanks to you, as many people as possible will see the post!

UPD2: You can call me transophobic all you want, but your brain missed the point of this post. No matter what you say, you have no right to poison other people just because you personally don't like something. Trans people is a specially chosen topic so that you can look at yourself from the outside, how stupid you sound from the outside. Congratulations you got caught :P

UPD3: For fans of protecting trans people: Do you think that no one has an injury related to this? Maybe a person made a sex change and regretted it, maybe someone was raped by a trans person and for them this is content that they want to avoid. However, you protect some, and wish death to others.

You are shifting responsibility for the crimes to the authors. Much more innocent things can encourage a person to commit crimes.

I sincerely believe that no matter what dirt a person writes, if it does not go beyond fan fiction, then everything is fine. The harassment of authors is much worse than any violence in literature!!

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 9 months

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It's Who We Have | Part Three

Summary: Following the devastating events at Westhaven, something beyond their control is aching to pull them together | Word Count: 3.7k~ | Warnings below the cut!

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Warnings: funeral, suggestions of neglect, mentions of sexual intercourse, mild angst, mild violence

A/N: my babies are back :) hope you like this chapter <3 who has a feeling there's something Billy doesn't know? 🤭

Funerals always felt strange. But he supposed that wasn’t a bad thing.

He looked around, shifting his weight from foot to foot and stood next to his parents. All of Lana’s coworkers were here, some dressed in their military uniform, some in black suits like he was. They’d all formed their own groups, chatting idly amongst themselves to fill the silence that was entrenched with the knowledge of what they were here for.

To send off their beloved coworker, who had so long been at their sides, that he somewhat felt like family.

Nut was a dear friend of Lana’s.

He remembered at first, how they absolutely could not stand each other, each too similar for their own good. Stubborn, proud and strong-willed both in and out of their dangerous occupation.

But they were funny together.

Lana had insisted that she was fine, and that she had to keep working, otherwise she’d ‘go mental’. But Billy knew her. She was just delaying the inevitable, and that some day, she’d crack, and crack hard.

You couldn’t bottle up a feeling like that.

Not when a further 12 people died in the attack, with many more than the news originally anticipated injured as well.

He’d stopped checking the BBC Homepage. It was becoming just an act to distract him from what was really going on around him, mindlessly scrolling through all the flat-toned ways in which they described the horror of the situation.

Nothing could distract him from the weighted guilt that was left behind by her presence.

Lana turned up to St Mary’s Church one grey morning looking as if she hadn’t slept a wink, and had simply pulled a blazer haphazardly over what she usually wore to work. Her face was gaunt, like she’d not wanted to come but was trying to hide it on her expression. Billy liked to think he could read his sister, but over time he felt as if the person he grew up with was fading away.

He gave her a hug in greeting, one hand on her back to let her know he felt the enormity of her loss.

“You look smart, Billy”.

He didn’t reply to that, he simply bowed his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling a wash of insecurity flood through him at the way she’d said it.

Like she still thought he was a fuck-up.

“Bit grand, all this, eh?”, his mum raised her eyebrows, obviously having seen all the military uniformed men scattered about, with lines of medals on their breasts. Billy grimaced, and made eye contact with Lana as if to say ‘that was a fucking weird thing to say at a funeral’. But his mum must have realised it and followed up with, “Nut would love it, though”, which did nothing to take the sting out of the previous insensitivity.

Billy watched longingly as she disappeared, feeling even more alone than when he started.

He looked into the crowd, expecting her figure to weave through the people milling about on the pavement. Her bright, warm face and eyes all mischievous as they met him. And he didn’t know why a sudden memory came to him right at that moment. St Mary’s Church wasn’t unknown to either of them. They’d pissed off the priest too much by age 14, having broken in one too many times and knocked over a silver candlestick.

Since the church was no longer suitable for their mischievous evening excursions, they’d moved onto the local museum, noting that the CCTV around the fire exit didn’t work. Once inside, he didn’t question why she was wearing her school skirt and a mucky top, skipping about on the marble floor like they were much younger than they were.

If he’d asked now, he wouldn’t have liked the answer.

If he’d asked then, she wouldn’t have told him that her mum had been lying unconscious on the sofa for the better part of eleven hours. She wouldn’t have told him that the kitchen was so messy and piled high with dirty dishes that Environmental Health had been called round by the neighbour. She wouldn’t have told him that she wore her school skirt because it was the only thing in the house of hers that was relatively clean.

“Quiet Wash!”

“Don’t call me that. I get enough of that at school.”

“Fuck me, sor-ry,” she grinned, nudging his shoulder with hers, “this place freaks me out.”

“Fuckin’ boring, more like. Remind me why we’re here again?”

“For our weekly therapy sessions of course!” she beamed, covering her mouth when the echo carried further than she intended, “got any sins you need to confess?”

Billy huffed, loosening the school tie from around his neck, swinging his long, gangly arms as they wandered through the dark hallway. He only answered when they passed the ‘Victorian Era’ section.

“Didn’t take you for the religious type.”

“I’m not, but sins is a good word.”

He smiled at that, “Ummmm, I suppose I cheated off someone for my Maths test earlier.”

She turned to him abruptly, a look of delight and horror on her face, “You did not! Who off?”

“That weirdo Andy.”

“Aw, he’s not a weirdo. Just…misunderstood.”

“Like how you’re misunderstood?”

As soon as the words came out his mouth, Billy regretted them. Mostly by her reaction. A forced laugh, graced with a settling of her eyebrows into a grimace at the end.

And by how she tried to change the subject.

“You still going on holiday on Friday?” she asked.

“Yeah, going to see the grandparents. Back on Sunday though.”

“That’ll be nice, to see them I mean,” she added with a shy smile.

He hated how desperately shy and cowardly he was not to say what was on his mind then. That he would miss her, in the barely two days he’d be away, he knew he would.

But he never told her.

She never seemed to hold it against him at the time. Or even now from what he could detect.

A subconscious smile wormed its way to his face, remembering how the twitching of the security guard’s torch whipped at their backs as they desperately ran for the fire exit.

They’d ran and laughed completely out of breath. Their heads high on adrenaline and excitement, swearing and shouting whenever they’d snagged even the tiniest of inconveniences. He’d even lifted her over the gates, turning bright red at catching sight of her knickers through her school tights, not that she’d noticed, and jogged with her to the nearest alleyway, throats raw and lungs burning as they gasped for breath, smiling widely.

He missed being young with her.

And now he thought that even if people weren’t slipping away, the personalities seemed to.

More people dropped by for the wake at the Forester, not Billy’s local, but known to him.

He remembered being here twice before now. Once with his mum and dad for a Sunday carvery, when his dad had said the mash was ‘lumpy’ and ‘he could load a gun with the roast potatoes they were that hard’. They never went back for food.

The second time, he’d come with her. They’d barely turned 18 and were enjoying flouting the use of their provisional licences by ordering some of their first legal drinks at the bar. He’d ordered a pale ale, and she’d had a bottle of fruity cider. Billy at least remembered she didn’t like the bitter taste of normal beer, and found what she lovingly dubbed ‘fruit shoot for adults’ more acceptable.

Even in the awkward little booth all the Washington’s were squeezed into, choked by silence, it made him smile remembering the face she’d pulled when she got a taste of his pint.

“You working?”

He’d barely had a moment to tear himself from his memories to look up and see his sister’s face as she’d asked the fated question, a brief flicker of annoyance passing his face at her smug expression, knowing the answer before he had a chance to reply.

It hadn’t taken her long to slip back into her bitchy older sister mentality then.

“Is he bollocks”, the same warning glance turned to his dad, who was by now, several glasses of whiskey deep.

Mum’s driving again, then.

He searched his mind quickly for his go-to answer. He had several choices.

I’ve applied to some this week, just waiting to hear back.

Was at the job centre the other day.

Stopped by the garage, handed in my CV.

But he settled for, “It’s just tough at the minute”, with his lips flat, looking at her from under the blonde wisps of hair on his brow.

Lana raised her eyebrows, not smirking specifically, but clearly amused at his dull response, “Oh, right?”

I’m not fucking doing this. Not sitting here to be labelled as the family fuck-up. I already know that.

He thought that with his Mum sitting next to him and Lana and his dad opposite, he was more his Mum, and Lana more his dad. Not only in their colouring, in their temperaments and attitudes as well. As hot-headed and stubborn as they both were, his dad would always always stick up for her, whether it was the right thing to do or not.

A sort of alliance, so to speak.

“Drinks, anyone? Mum?”.

“Don’t be such a mardy git”

“No, Dad, just leave it, all right?”

Now that came out harsher than anticipated, more forceful. And Billy saw the look of acceptance on his dad’s face, as if Billy had given him exactly the reaction he wanted to justify his early opinion of his only son.

So Billy did the only thing he thought would help.

He got up and left. Cheap round at least, if it’s only him drinking.

She’d only just locked her car when she saw Mr and Mrs Washington pouring out of the Forester. Billy’s mum was much more grey than blonde now, with grey hairs peppered between the otherwise golden strands. His dad, though he still had a stern face, was much more rounded, rosy-cheeked from alcohol, and hair thinning atop his head.

But Billy’s mum lit up when she clapped eyes on an older version of the girl she once knew.

“Hiya, duck, you alright?” she beamed, squeezing with the force only a mother could give when she pulled her into a hug.

She wondered if she hugged Lana like this.

It felt nice, she was ashamed to admit, to have motherly love. Just not from her own.

“You alright, Mrs Washington?”

“Oh darling, it’s Val, come on now”, she smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes sinking in as she pulled away, “you’re a right little madam now, aren’t you? How was your degree? History, wasn’t it?”

She smiled, trying to make it not seem sad, “Yes, it was good, thank you”.

“You’re back for good now, aren’t ya?”, the gruff voice of Billy’s dad joined Val’s side, his expression impartial and his throat sounding scratchier than she remembered. Perhaps he was back into smoking.

“Yeah, I’ve uh…got a place not far”.

“You'll have to come over for tea, duck. Been far too long since we've seen you”, Val smiled widely, “anyway we've got to get off, Lana's inside if you fancy saying hello”.

The thought of having dinner with them again, the people who she'd very often seen as her own pseudo-parents, and often saw them more than she had her own mother, set off a warmth that fizzled in her chest.

She couldn't deny how nice it would be, to catch up with them all again.

Sometimes being at their house was like watching her own TV show, The Washingtons, watching them bicker across the table, sometimes in harmless quips and sometimes evolving into full on arguments.

Her and Billy would always sit next to each other, raising their eyebrows in a manner that expressed their discomfort. Always followed with a stifled giggle.

And there it was again. The lingering thought that, those days were gone now.

The pub had an immediate bitter smell to it when she first walked in, the stifling heat of bodies hitting her immediately, and the slight stench of sweat.

She thought, there was no place for judgement of people sweating, having to wear black to a funeral during a heatwave.

She spotted the group of guys at the bar first, all with their black blazers off, and the top buttons of their shirts undone now that their inhibitions had faded the more alcohol they drank. They laughed loudly with each other, but she didn't see Lana until she stepped out, she was so short compared to them.

“Hi Lana”, she smiled when she was close enough.

Those familiar blue eyes looked back, wide-eyed and joyful, the lines around them crinkling much like Val’s.

“Hiya! God, what you doing down this way?” she asked, giving a quick hug in greeting like she was seeing an old friend.

“I've moved back down for work and…to be with people I know again,” she replied, her eyes solemn, “I'm sorry about Nut, really…and I hope you're alright.”

She saw her face drop a bit like she might cry again and let the emotions take the reins, before the eldest Washington sighed, “Thanks. I'm alright. It's…just a shock.”

She nodded, unable to find the words to follow up. But luckily, in her alcohol-addled state, Lana changed the subject quickly and raised her eyebrows, in the way she always did when she was being slightly judgy.

“No mates up north then?”

“None worth keeping”, she smiled, which Lana mirrored.

“You having a drink?”

She thought, fuck it, might as well have one and still drive home, “Yeah go on then”.

They waited at the bar while the man behind it poured pints, pulling on the heavy lever every few seconds.

“I'd’ve thought Billy would have mentioned you.”

She couldn't help it. The statement took her so off guard her face must have blanched, though she tried to smile and make up some quick excuse, Lana simply smiled, her cheeks red. Clearly she'd had quite a bit already.

“Got ya”, Lana grinned, “he tells me fuck all but I know when something's happened. I'm not stupid.”

Shit.

“Just please tell me you haven't fucked. Otherwise I'll vomit right here.”

Her lips parted without her realising, heat rushing to her face at the bluntness of it. Bloody hell, alcohol made Lana an entirely different person.

“I-what? - no!”

“Oh, thank god for that,” she sighed dramatically, “it'll be good to have you back anyway, he's been a right miserable sod since you've been gone.”

Now that caught her attention.

“What do you mean?”

“He's always been a mardy bugger but he's turned the fucking dial up to 100, especially since Becky walked out on him.”

That was news to her.

She felt herself deflate a little. And didn't know why.

She lifted her eyes at the faint smell of second-hand cigarette smoke.

“Billy!” Lana beamed, “another drink? Treating your big sister?”

A chill settled in her skin at the mention of his name, and the fact that she'd known he was there before Lana had even said it. But a dull warmth crept back in, when she locked eyes on the other Washington, seeing his surprised expression at her presence.

They almost, almost, smiled at each other.

He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead, “Yeah, alright, do you…want one?” he asked, looking tentatively at her, eyebrows arched with nerves, leaving space between them at the bar like she might bite him.

“Just one, thanks. Driving”, she replied with a thin-lipped smile.

Billy nodded awkwardly and didn't even have to ask what she wanted as he tapped his card against the machine.

The bottle wasn't even in her hand two seconds before Lana beamed, cheeks tinged with drunkenness, “Off for a fag! Be right back”.

She shook her head as Lana waddled to the fire exit with another guy in a suit. As drunk as she seemed, she understood full well that she was leaving her little brother and her by themselves on purpose.

Billy seemed to understand this too, as he watched his sibling disappear with a heavy sigh.

The two sat on a tiny circular table, lined sticky with old beer that had barely been wiped off. And at first, neither of them knew what to say. Billy had never replied to her text message, so she wasn't sure if he was just doing this out of sheer politeness, or if he actually wanted to give it a go.

“You been alright?”

The sound of Billy's voice was so unexpected that she nearly stared at him mouth agape.

“Oh, yeah, um…got the keys to my flat the other day”.

Billy leaned back in his chair, undoing the top few buttons of his black shirt and tugging the tie down with it, “Nice, then?”

A smile broke free, “It'll do.”

Shockingly, he smiled at that as well.

“I'm sorry about Becky”, she started, trying to think of a follow-up when Billy threw a daunted look at her, “Lana mentioned it…sorry-”

“Nah, it's fine. She just can't keep her gob shut, can she.”

She smiled again as she sipped her drink, Billy did the same. Something warm drifted through the air between them.

“Saw your parents as I was coming in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Billy raised his eyebrows expectantly, “bet Mum's already tried to feed you her foul cottage pie again”.

“It wasn't that bad.”

“Oh come on, who the fuck puts marmite in a cottage pie?”

It felt nice to laugh with Billy.

Felt natural.

And when their eyes lingered after drifting into silence, she felt that if she looked any longer, the waterworks would really begin.

There was a flush on Billy's cheeks, like there had been on Lana’s. Whether it was sunburn or alcohol, it was difficult to tell.

But from the way Billy found it easy to smile, she would guess the latter.

She watched the way his lips parted and closed a few times, as if he wanted to say something. Years and years of feelings left unsaid, waiting on his tongue.

A distant voice seemed to shake them both. A familiar yet unsettling one.

Billy watched his friend go all rigid, pale and unsettled as she seemed to spot someone at the bar behind him.

He'd seen this look on her face only a handful of times.

With a half empty bottle of cider, she threw her bag over shoulder and quickly got up, “I have to go.”

He wasn't sure what quite got over him. The inhibitions had faded somewhat.

“What's wrong?”

She shook her head swiftly, “nothing, I just-”

When Billy looked behind him, he recognised the gait, the self-assured tone of his voice. He looked older than them, much older, from years of heavy drinking and smoking.

The boy she knew from school. The one she'd cried over.

Billy remembered that afternoon, hugging her to his chest at Cranstead Fields, after he'd shattered her confidence and broken her heart.

She grabbed his sleeve, “Billy, stop it, please-”

“And what?” His head snapped back, eyes wide and eyebrows arched in anger. The flush on his face made him look less endearing now, and more tight with rage.

“Just leave it,” she practically begged, her eyes flitting from her tall friend to the man, who mercifully had not noticed them.

Her hand slipped from his sleeve, feeling as if more than anything else, she was annoying Billy over feeling nostalgic about their friendship. And embarrassment nipped at her skin as she tugged the bag over her shoulder, her eyes sinking from his.

“Come on, I've got the car. I can take you home.”

“No.”

“But Billy-”

“Nah, got to stay here with Lana.”

She bit her lip, feeling as if he wasn't being entirely truthful, but it was good enough of an excuse that she didn't have a reply.

“Alright…well, look after yourself, okay?”

She'd barely taken the step before his cigarette-scratchy voice boomed across the bar, “there she is! Billy's only real mate, back from the dead!”

Billy watched her expression arch in something akin to pain, hearing his voice and what he'd said. And it was this moment that Billy realised he hadn't even remembered the bastard's name, only what he'd done to her.

She couldn't even really bear to look up and see his face again, to have to look into his eyes, the twist in her heart was much too painful.

“The North not want you either? Come back for some mor-”

It turned out she didn't need to. The entire pub seemed to erupt with excitement of both the bad and good kind as Billy's body twisted drunkenly and his fist barrelled through the man's face, grazing his jaw clumsily.

The ‘mates’ around him simply caught him as he stumbled back, but were too drunk themselves to find the situation anything but a bit funny.

“What the fuck did you say?!”

“Billy, fuck, Billy stop! He's not worth it!”

Billy barely moved even with her hands on his chest, pushing him back, watching his flushed face harden with frustration, stern blue eyes still trained on the man who was trying to find his footing.

“Get out my way.”

Her stomach flipped as his fingers easily wrapped around her wrist to gently push her away. At least having the mindset that he should be tender with her.

“Fuck’s sake, Billy, stop.”

He seemed near-fixated on the situation around the man he'd just assaulted, heedless of the repercussions.

But the tone of her voice made his blue eyes flit down to her.

He'd not heard that shift in a long time.

They seemed to stare at each other for a long moment. Not even realising that the man's mates had dragged him into the nearest taxi they could flag down, and that the bar idea had gone all quiet.

Billy shook his head as if shaking himself from a memory, “I need a fag.”

“Billy-”

She reached for him, but he disappeared out the fire door, a pack of cigarettes gripped so tight the package was yielding to his touch.

He'd slipped from her grasp. Once again.

And even though it wasn't the first time, she felt the grief of it all like it was.

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batrachised · 10 months

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Watching Anne of Avonlea (through sheer determination and after a series of events that involved unsuccessfully digging through the website's source code, I managed to rent it), and it strikes me how (in this instance, similarly to the book), Anne repeatedly crushes any romantic advancements on Gilbert's part. In the book, Anne avoids being alone with Gilbert and begs him not to propose to her. It makes me wonder: why did Gilbert think proposing to her would work? Is it because he wanted a sense of finality? Because he did genuinely think he had a chance? He does say this:

“There isn’t anything to forgive. There have been times when I thought you did care. I’ve deceived myself, that’s all. Goodbye, Anne.”

This implies that he did think a yes was possible. Yet I find this difficult to believe, because while we all know Anne does in fact care that way for Gilbert and doesn't know it yet, Anne has also been pretty blunt about how she doesn't think she does. Anne of the Island's first chapters are filled with Anne thinking about how awkward walks with Gilbert are now, or with her crushing any overtures he makes. Exhibit:

Gilbert suddenly laid his hand over the slender white one lying on the rail of the bridge. His hazel eyes deepened into darkness, his still boyish lips opened to say something of the dream and hope that thrilled his soul. But Anne snatched her hand away and turned quickly. The spell of the dusk was broken for her. “I must go home,” she exclaimed, with a rather overdone carelessness. “Marilla had a headache this afternoon, and I’m sure the twins will be in some dreadful mischief by this time. I really shouldn’t have stayed away so long.” She chattered ceaselessly and inconsequently until they reached the Green Gables lane. Poor Gilbert hardly had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

[Gilbert asks] “And after those four years—what?” “Oh, there’s another bend in the road at their end,” answered Anne lightly. “I’ve no idea what may be around it—I don’t want to have. It’s nicer not to know.

“I wonder if I can ever make her care for me,” he thought, with a pang of self-distrust.

“If I had my way I’d shut everything out of your life but happiness and pleasure, Anne,” said Gilbert in the tone that meant “danger ahead.” “Then you would be very unwise,” rejoined Anne hastily. “I’m sure no life can be properly developed and rounded out without some trial and sorrow—though I suppose it is only when we are pretty comfortable that we admit it. Come—the others have got to the pavilion and are beckoning to us.”

Anne was never attended by the crowd of willing victims who hovered around Philippa’s conquering march through her Freshman year; but there was a lanky, brainy Freshie, a jolly, little, round Sophomore, and a tall, learned Junior who all liked to call at Thirty-eight, St. John’s, and talk over ’ologies and ’isms, as well as lighter subjects, with Anne, in the becushioned parlor of that domicile. Gilbert did not love any of them, and he was exceedingly careful to give none of them the advantage over him by any untimely display of his real feelings Anne-ward.

The only set up we get is this:

Gilbert, to be sure, was still faithful, and waded up to Green Gables every possible evening. But Gilbert’s visits were not what they once were. Anne almost dreaded them. It was very disconcerting to look up in the midst of a sudden silence and find Gilbert’s hazel eyes fixed upon her with a quite unmistakable expression in their grave depths; and it was still more disconcerting to find herself blushing hotly and uncomfortably under his gaze, just as if—just as if—well, it was very embarrassing.

My guess is that based on the paragraph above, Gilbert thought he had a chance - that and his line about how "things can't go on like this any longer." It's still odd to me in the context of the larger pattern of behavior though. Not in a bad way, more in a "tumblr, please provide your thoughts because batrachised's brain cell has quit its job without notice" way

#i am slowly absorbing myself in shirbert #time to dig into this #aogg #anne of the island #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #anne x gilbert

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jimblejamblewritings · 1 month

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starlight moonlight sunlight — blurb one

Series Summary: Remus has a choice to make: his new boyfriend Sirius or his recently no longer ex girlfriend, Y/N. But when Y/N's world begins crumbling, Remus wants to be there for her. So he makes a decision... Continue dating his boyfriend behind his girlfriend's back.

Blurb Title: Reconnecting on the Train

Pairing: ex!Remus x reader, Remus x Sirius, eventual poly!Wolfstar x reader

Warnings: none

blurb series navigation here

1. Reconnecting on the Train

You sat up as the train pulled into King’s Cross Station. This school year was going to be good, hopefully. You had already taken your NEWTs last year because what else did you have to do in a safehouse but study? So all you had to do was relax this year. You looked out the window, coming face to face with a very tall, plus size redhead and next to her, an equally tall blonde with a bob. They did charades to try and ask if anyone else was in your compartment or the one right next to yours. You weren’t even finished shaking your head before they booked it.

They breathed out sighs of relief as they plopped down on the seats before disappearing the wall between the two compartments so you were one big room. The train benches were arranged to be in a square formation with an opening for the door.

The blonde with the spiky bob stuck out a hand. “Marlene McKinnon. 7th year.”

“Y/N L/N. 7th year also.”

A gasp echoed out. On the other side of James, Sirius froze up. His hand held on tighter to the taller boy next to him. He brought Remus’ hand to his lips, kissing it gently. How dare you show up here of all places? He was the main one to spend countless nights comforting the man when you left him. He had been the one to help put everything back together again and you were coming back to ruin it.

You felt the train bench shake a little bit as one of the boys on the bench with golden brown hai— “Remus?”

“Y/N?”

James went wide-eyed. “Wait, that Y/N…”

You both dug through your bags, pulling out polaroids sent years ago. Remus had to be sure. You held them up to each other’s faces for comparison. He looked different in only a year. The two of you were definitely the same people in your photos though. You were confused when his expression hardened at confirming it was you.

“What are you doing here? You stopped writing. For months.”

“I’m so sorry, babe.”

Sirius laughed from behind Remus. “That’s it. I’m sorry?”

You blinked twice, a bit taken aback by the hostility from his friends. “I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Busy? So the rest of us just don’t have jack shit in our lives?”

Fiddling with your hands a bit, you sighed. “Remus, can I talk to you alone?”

“I’m sorry but until I get answers, you have to understand that it’s a little hard for me to just go anywhere with you.”

“I’m a refugee. The MACUSA sent every new-maj into hiding because of Voldemort. Our schools grabbed us and our families in the middle of the night. We weren’t allowed to contact anyone outside. My family was rushed here because they got attacked. I’ve been separated from everyone else for their safety.”

“Y/N, are you okay? Are they okay?” Remus’ face softened.

His chest tightened as you shook your head. Honestly, you’d been putting on a brave face, telling him as much. You wanted to be a rock and a calming presence for your family during this time. And over the months, you’ve made peace with everything that’s happened. You understand it but you don’t feel like you’ve had a chance to be emotional about it. Remus jumped to his feet and pulled you into a hug when the tears started to fall. He rested his head against yours and rocked you back and forth.

“I wanted to write to you. I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, it’s alright.”

“I only found out two weeks ago that the UK was taking us in so I just decided to surprise you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it was that bad. Your letters before never…”

“I know. I tried to keep everything positive for you. I’m sorry if I made you worried.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s alright. You’re here now. Safe… Y/N, do you want to go to the observation car, calm down a little? No one’s really in there, I promise. I’ll come get you in a moment, okay?”

You smiled. That’s what you loved about your boyfriend. He was understanding and patient about the lack of letters. You nodded and handed him your stuff. He pointed out the observation car and waited for you to leave his sight before closing the carriage door.

Remus groaned. “I’m such a shit boyfriend.”

Sirius adamantly shook his head, offended that he would dare suggest that. “You didn’t know. I can’t believe she still thinks you’d be together after she left without a word.”

“Sirius.”

“He’s kind of right,” Regulus spoke up. “If I had disappeared for months, how could I possibly expect my partner to not move on?”

“She’s just not like that. We’ve talked about her friends’ relationships before.”

“That seems selfish.”

A lot of the train agreed.

Peter opened up his can of Fizzing Whizbee. “Just break up with her… again.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? Do you still love her?”

“No,” Remus answered without hesitation. “Feelings are long gone.”

“Then why not?”

“Y/N is fragile right now. Our relationship is her only stability. I feel like if I break up with her right now, it’ll shatter her.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Sirius said. “I know we haven’t announced ourselves to the school yet but this relationship means something to me. This might sound awful but I don’t care. I don’t care what she’s been through enough to leave you. I had to pick up your heart when she wasn’t there. She can’t just take you from me.”

“I don’t want to leave you either… Just let me make sure she’s on her feet then we’ll be over. Okay, love?”

“How long?”

“When we start the second semester? Is that okay with you?”

Sirius thought about it for a considerable time. “Fine. Nothing can stop me from kissing you in broom closets, though.”

Mary put away her crossword puzzles to grab a book instead. “You do know that she’ll want to be our friend, right?”

Remus nodded. “I’m not saying to not be friends with her. She’ll fit right in here, I know it. I’d like to be friends with her if we can split amicably. Just don’t tell her about Sirius and I, let us break up naturally.”

“Can do.”

“Thank you… Love, do you have any rules for me?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Can you try not to be intimate with her? Just never initiate it. Kisses are fine, I expect that. You can even flirt. I won’t think anything of it. It’ll be like you and Lily or Mary. But no large gestures. And no calling her love or starshine or sweetheart. Those are my pet names, she’ll have to find her own.”

The rest of the train ride wasn’t sat in uncomfortable silence but social conversation. You put your headphones back in and pulled out the crochet project you were working on. Your boyfriend looked over at you, tapping your ankle incessantly until you finally looked up and took out your earbuds.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Do you want anything from the trolley?”

“Um, no, I’m good. I’m on a tight budget for now. I’ll just get another water.” You looked down in betrayal when your stomach grumbled.

“Here.” Sirius handed you a to-go bowl filled to the brim with salad. He gave Remus a sandwich filled with basically just meat. A favorite near the full moon.

“Thank you,” you said with such kindness that he wanted to roll his eyes. You leaned into your boyfriend to exaggerate a whisper. “Your friends are really nice.”

The train finally stopped at the Hogsmeade Station. You were beginning to buzz with excitement as you sat under the Sorting Hat. Your uniform changed from gray and white to splashes of red and gold as you made your way to a clapping table. A note plopped into your lap halfway through late lunch/early dinner.

Back to School Party: 1st-4th year in Gryffindor Common Room. 5th-7th in Slytherin.

When dinner ended, you didn’t want to follow the first years so you went with your train buddies that were in Gryffindor, trusting that you’d eventually find your room.

“Oh.”

Marlene and Mary turned to you. “What is it?”

“My key has the number eleven on it too.”

The girls ushered you into their, now your, dorm room. The other girls looked at each other as you unpacked in less than fifteen minutes. It was kind of sad and brought them to the reality that while they were worried about Voldemort and war, some people were already living it.

You sat down on your bed. “So, what do you normally wear for parties?”

“I don’t know about Ilvermorny but it’s about dressing hot.”

You looked at your wardrobe. “How long do I have?”

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