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danses-with-dogmeat · 11 months

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Day 27 -- Julie Farkas

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 27 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Masturbation with Julie Farkas x g/n!Six

Julie Farkas is just neat. She's just a neat, badass gal with very cool hair and the best freaking cause to fight for. This was quite fun to write, as well, given the chosen relationship with the courier that I went with.

It's a lil... out of left field at some points, but hopefully that keeps it interesting 👀

I hope you like it! 😁

BUT it does involve a bit of mildly dubious consent though (mostly just thoughts of it), so just a heads up on that!

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Masturbation, fantasizing, enemies to lovers? sorta?, guilt, coercion, mildly dubious consent, non-consensual voyeurism, fingering, arguing... turns into something kinda nice tho :3

Words: 2.4k

Julie’s hips bucked into her hand, her wrist aching loudly where her teeth were set against her skin. She leaned back in her wooden office chair, one foot on top of her desk, mussing the papers there and keeping her legs effectively spread for her working fingers. They circled over herself, spreading her wetness through her folds, over her clit, as she closed her eyes, and thought of Six.

Their firm hands on her, in place of hers, even. Their needy mouth set over hers, their breaths hot against her skin.

She’d be trying to hold back her sounds, trying to keep them quiet as well as she could, to keep the Followers in the dark. Then, and now.

Else, she would be found out. Else… they would know she was in deep with House’s little errand boy/girl.

She shouldn’t be.

Julie knew it to be true, she had other duties, she had a code, she had the Followers. That was her life. It had to be.

But that night…

She shuddered as she remembered their touch, their tongue on her, in her, the strength of their hands, how they’d put her over the desk and she’d moaned out their name like some wanton Gomorrah whore.

It’d been demeaning, wrong of her, it’d been irresponsible and undesirable, and… shit, it’d been hot.

Six’s fingers knuckle deep inside her, thrusting and twisting against her walls until she had to bite into her wrist to muffle her own cries of pleasure; like she was doing now, even just thinking about it.

“Fuck…” Julie choked out the word, pressing two of her digits inside, stroking the way Six had, trying to emulate their movements, their finesse.

This was… what? The third or fourth time she’d done this since their… ahem, meeting?

She should know better.

Should.

Julie’s breath picked up, her fingers moving faster, and she felt her slickness seeping out of her all the more with each thought, each memory.

Their words whispered in her ears, that soft, heady voice that she’d dreamed of almost every night since.

“Come on, Farkas. Give in.”

They’d bent their body over hers, pressing her into the cold, hard metal of the desk as they mercilessly stoked that fire within.

“You know you want to, darling. You want this, want me. Even if you shouldn’t.”

"That's half the fun, isn't it?"

They’d both been dancing around it for months. Every meeting, every attempt at negotiation, attempt at sharing allies, at making the Mojave a more livable place for the people here– well, that had been her goal, anyway. It was clear that House just wanted power. Power over the strip, over the whole damn desert, and Six?

Julie didn’t need to be a master diplomat to see the way they wanted power over her.

They were silver-tongued, seductive, the exact kind of person House could use to a deadly degree, and yet… It’d fucking worked.

“Let me have you, gorgeous." They'd whispered like they were the last words available to them. "Say you’ll work with me, with us, and I can give you all that you desire.”

Stupid fucking line.

Garbage promise, garbage romance that she never would’ve even considered working on her.

And yet…

Shouldn’t have listened. Julie thought, for about the eighteenth time, as her hand moved more rapidly, as she set the pad of her thumb up over her clit and beckoned her fingers within.

She saw stars, saw Six’s face behind closed lids, saw them in bright colors, shades of red and orange and yellow, as tantalizing as open flame to a moth.

Just as deadly, too. She tried to remind herself, but she only felt her walls clench around her fingers at the notion.

Julie’s chest heaved with every racking breath, her wrist felt bruised, the skin there ached and burned against the pressure of her teeth, and finally she released it, and bit into her lip instead. The chair below her creaked as her back arched, as her hips surged forward, and she let her head fall back with the quietest of moans she could manage.

“Goddamn it.” She whispered to the thin walls around her, peeking one eye open to be sure– for the fourth time– that the curtains to her office were closed.

This was the last damn thing she should be doing in here. Her workload piled around the room in files and boxes and in her own head, weighing her down, making her chest ache and her mind feel swollen.

There was only so much she could do for all the people she promised to help, only so many resources in the world, in this part of the wasteland, and yet, here she was. Instead of securing medicine, furthering research, reaching out to the communities and droves of good people in need, she was riding her own fingers to the thought of some power-hungry, selfish asshole who’d rather support a mostly-dead billionaire in carrying out his fiscal goals for this year than give a family the medicine they need. Six would rather stroke Mr. House’s god complex with their bare hands than help her find a way to take down the Legion without the NCR.

And she was fucking doing this to the thought of them.

A groan escaped her, maybe from the way her fingers pressed to that soft spot deep inside that had her stomach clenching with bliss, or maybe it was out of the mental exasperation, the self-guilt she felt pouring out of her in ruinous droves.

“Fucking Six.” She huffed out, still thrusting rapidly into her fingers.

She’s gotten this far, why the hell stop now?

The workload wasn’t going anywhere, and the self-loathing could stand to be staved off just a tad longer, surely. If she finished, if she had a clear head, then maybe–

“Oh?”

Julie’s eyes flew open at the word. At the voice.

“You called?”

Shit.

Julie froze as her eyes darted to the sight of Six, standing just inside her doorway like they belonged there, like they were comfortable.

Their shadowy form leaned back against the old oak of the door, their hands in their pockets, one knee bent like they were lounging against a bar top, just waiting for a potential caller to approach them. Julie found her nose scrunching, her lip curling into a snarl, without a conscious order to do so.

At the very least, they had the decency to close the door. She reluctantly supposed.

If one of the Followers had walked by, had seen them, had seen her…

No. Can’t even consider that.

“W-what are you doing here?” The Followers leader pulled her fingers from herself tritely, and lowered her leg from the top of the desk, scooting the chair forward to hide her bared heat as well as was possible, given the circumstances.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account, darling, please.” They waved a hand at her as they stepped forward and into the center of the dim, little room. “Really, it’s flattering. I’m feeling really good about this, even.”

Julie scoffed.

“I’m sure you are.” She said flatly, hoping the flush she felt rising over her skin wasn’t visible in this light. “Now, answer the damn question, Six.”

“Only if you keep doing what you were doing, sweetheart.”

Her nostrils flared, dark brows set over her eyes as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Not a chance.”

“Fine.” They said, like it’d been the most innocent request in the world. “Then… suppose we’ll just have to discuss House’s terms another time.”

Six turned as if to leave, but moved slowly.

Julie narrowed her eyes at them.

“Bummer though." They called over their shoulder, "This was some good news. And time sensitive, too.”

“Then tell me. I don’t have time for your antics, Six.” Julie stood and zipped up the front of her pants as swiftly as her fingers could manage, and began to strut towards them, until Six turned at the sound of her footsteps and she could back them into a corner. The ex-courier’s eyes widened as Julie grabbed them forcefully by the shoulders and pinned their back to the concrete wall behind them.

“Spill it.” She spat.

“Okay! Okay… I’ll tell you, geeze. Just trying to have a little fun, since obviously..." Their eyes trailed downwards, to the still-soaked front of her cargo pants. "You enjoyed yourself the first time.”

Julie flinched at that, like they'd spit directly onto her face.

She wished she could refute them, that she would mean it if she did.

The truth was, though... She’d been as much an active participant as Six. What, with the way her hands had clung tightly to their head as they set their mouth over her folds, the way she pulled them in deeper, harder, the desperate way their name had slipped from her trembling lips in the throes of the release they’d pulled from her.

“That… that doesn’t matter now. I need to know what House decided.”

“And then…?” Their brow quirked suggestively, and Julie very nearly rolled her eyes.

Play their game, and they’ll tell you.

She released a breath, and pulled her hands from their place on Six’s shoulders, allowing them to lean forward and off the hard, unforgiving wall.

“Hmm, was that a ‘maybe’?”

“That was a ‘tell me and we’ll see.’” Julie kept her voice steady, hard as stone, but she couldn’t fool herself, nor her body.

Something in her belly warmed at the thought of… repaying them in such a way.

“Good, so a ‘maybe’. Perfect.” They bared their teeth in a poisonous smile.

“Six.”

“Yes, okay, yes.” The ex-courier smoothed their hands over their coat, settling the wrinkles that Julie had caused with her rough handling of them.

Not that they’d minded. That much is obvious.

“House… he agreed to help.”

“...Help? What does that–”

“He’s got a secret weapon to take care of the Legion assholes. So you don’t need to worry about that, or getting the NCR involved to solve that little issue.” Six began to move as they spoke, gesturing lightly as they moseyed around her small office.

“He’ll help where he can with resources for your organization. Food, medicine, clean water. He’s working on getting infrastructure together to supply it all, and you’ll have second dibs. First is him, of course, but you get to it before the paying public. He promised me that.”

Julie’s eyes followed them as they moved, wide and unblinking as their unthinkable words met her ears.

Was it a trick? A bribe?

“So long as House ends up with the dam, and the NCR effectively out of his way, you and him are in kahoots.”

Six stopped as they reached the other side of her desk, their hands spread over the many papers there as they leaned over it with another snake-like grin.

No... this one was more wolfish. Smug.

In that moment though, their expression didn't much matter, not their games or exploits, either. All that reached her were their words.

“Six…” Julie took a few steps back, to catch herself from toppling over. “That’s… how did he-- I mean, what changed his mind? How, how did you pull this off?”

They gave her a little shrug and a noncommittal expression.

“Eh, it didn’t take that much. The man has almost everything he could ever want, so… you know, he can afford to give some back.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

A laugh escaped them, and curiously, their eyes refused to meet her.

“It was nothing, okay?”

Julie’s gaze didn’t waver, dark eyes boring into her guest like a knife pressing into a leather belt. Firmly, stubbornly, her expression loosened their tongue.

“Look," Six relented, "If I can convince you that sleeping with me was a good idea, then I can make Captain Computer give up a few stimpacks and some blamco mac ‘n cheese. I’m not a miracle worker, sweetheart.”

Julie shook her head as a rare smile threatened to spread her lips.

“No,” She said, her voice uncharacteristically soft, “but you will be."

With that, Julie stepped forward, until she faced them across the metal surface of her desk, until she could urge their expression to meet hers.

"When these people start getting what they need, miracles will be popping up from here to the California border. And it’ll be because of you.”

Six’s veneer fractured a bit at that, and they shied from her words, like she’d threatened them. Yet... for the first time, since this unhealthy, unruly, frustrating yearning of hers first took hold of her, it didn’t inspire feelings of guilt or shame.

Maybe… I wasn’t so wrong to try working with them.

“It’s a nice thought, I’ll admit it.” Their words were more hollow than she expected, than they had any right to be, given the news Six had just shared with her. “But miracles? No.”

She didn’t even have to open her mouth for them to know the question waiting behind her closed lips.

“The truth is… House could’ve done this from the start. He’s had these same resources for a hundred years or more. All those years of people suffering, well… The last few are on me as much as him.”

Something sizzled in Julie’s stomach, a quiet anger, bellowed and stirred by their words. But not at Six, no. They were just a pawn.

Like so many of us. Robert House plays the game, longer and with more tenacity than he’s given credit for.

Given blame for, more like.

“And nothing, probably, would’ve changed at all, if not…"

It was like they were being tortured, the way the words fought their way out of Six's throat.

"If not... for you, Julie.”

Her eyes snapped to theirs, then to their mouth disbelievingly.

Did Six just call me 'Julie'? No sweetheart, n-no Farkas, no darling, nothing suave and emotionally removed… but my actual name?

“You’re the miracle here." They continued lowly, as afraid someone might hear them now as she was earlier that same evening. "You, and the Followers. And… I’m gonna do what I can to help. If you give me the chance.”

Maybe she was still stupid, still being manipulated, being conned by a master salesman and his pet, but… Something about this seemed different.

It didn’t feel like that first time, not slimy and wrong and addled with guilt and disappointment. No… There was a shift in them, in her. A sense of hope fluttered in her stomach, lightened her mind and her expression as she looked to the ex-courier in front of her.

“I think…” She started, and noted the way they held their breath. “I think we can maybe arrange for that. Just a chance, though. Nothing more."

Julie gave a decisive nod at the end of it, her jaw set, her eyes like brass. Warm, but still hard, defensive.

"Oh?" Six's brow quirked familiarly, and something in her stirred, "Nothing more? You sure?"

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas companions #fallout npc #fallout new vegas npcs #fallout nv #fonv #new vegas #fnv #julie farkas #followers of the apocalypse #julie farkas fonv #fallout julie farkas #courier six #fnv courier #dwd.nsfw #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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diazheartsbuckley · 1 year

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Seven Sentences Sunday

Tagged by the amazing @wikiangela 💗

The words still echoed inside of Buck’s head, the feelings of defeat and confusion are still weighing in his chest and his heart felt like it might give out at any given moment; they’re his parents and yet they feel like strangers and he had to beg them to love him, love me anyway and he never hoped that someone else would feel this way, so incredibly unwanted by the people who brought him into this world.

He didn’t even know how he got to Eddie’s place, the last hour of his life completely changed everything in him and if he had to be honest, he wasn’t even sure how he was still standing up when he gently knocked on the door, not even sure if it was audible and he leaned against the door, his entire body trembling and his head spinning, his vision starting to blur and the last thing he remembered before collapsing, was being caught in Eddie’s warm embrace.

When Buck slowly opened his eyes, he recognized the inside of Eddie’s apartment and he sat up on the couch, a blanket loosely draped over his legs and he could hear the bustling sound from Eddie’s hectic cooking in the kitchen which made him chuckle halfheartedly to himself.

“Welcome back” Eddie said as Buck made his way carefully into the kitchen, his entire body still shaky which made Eddie look him up and down, he wasn’t injured, at least not physically, and that only left him with one explanation as to why his best friend suddenly stumbled into his apartment on a random Tuesday night; something had happened at that dinner with his parents.

Buck just slowly sat down by the kitchen counter, wiping half dried tears away from his cheeks with the back of his cheeks, not knowing what to say, this had left him feeling so unwanted and all the unresolved emotions that he had been carrying inside of him for all of these years had come knocking, almost pounding, against his skull and he just couldn’t stop tears from forming in his eyes again because everything just hurt.

It tore Eddie apart to see Buck like this and he was so angry that someone did this to someone, to an unsuspecting child and damaged them for life and he reached out, placed a hand on Buck’s lower arm, squeezing in gently as an attempt to get him to look at him, Buck’s silent sniffles barely noticeable as the extractor hood was still running above their heads.

“Buck, I don’t know what happened at that dinner but I need you to look at me” Eddie told him and Buck slowly lifted his head, swallowing harshly as he made eye contact with the brown eyed man across from him.

“They don’t-…” Buck couldn’t even manage to speak an entire sentence without his voice breaking, his entire face riddled with disarray and torment as he went through the evening in his head, it couldn’t be real, it had to not be real, that his parents hadn’t even wanted him in the first place and that he just made for spare parts, broken spare parts at that, yet single word that they had spoken, told him that it was true.

Eddie didn’t have to hear the rest of the sentence to know what Buck was trying to say and his jaw clenched in anger, his eyes burning and he wanted nothing more than to take these feelings away from Buck and the best that he could do was try to put his broken soul back together.

“But there’s so many other people who love you. For who and what you are, not for what they wanted you to be. They can’t even see what a good man that Maddie raised because they were so busy focusing on the boy that they lost, that they in turn made you feel lost too. They don’t deserve your forgiveness and they certainly haven’t earned one single of your tears. Screw them for making you feel this way, okay? You’re amazing” Eddie told Buck, every word dripping with love and honesty, which made Buck chuckle weakly and nod as he wiped his cheeks again, grateful for that family that he had chosen, not the one that he had been born into, only Maddie and Eddie deserved that love.

Tagging!! @wildlife4life @buckleyobsessed @belovedbuddie @watchyourbuck @forthewolves @thewolvesof1998 @eddiesbvckley @eddiediaztho @buckleys-diaz @bucksbirthmark 💗🦋

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matan4il · 2 years

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Like anyone else I wasn't happy with Buck donating but now that it's done and we know Bucks parents are coming back the back half. I'm thoroughly fascinated to see what this hot mess becomes.

Because here is the one thing that always bothered me after the S4 finale. There was no point in Eddie telling Buck that in S3 he made Buck, Christopher's gaurdian.

1. It did nothing to curb Bucks reckless tendencies. It clearly didn't add to his own self worth as of yet.

2. They clearly planned to have Eddie mend fences with his parents. Even pushing into this season to show him seek his father out for advice

3. It wasn't used during Christopher's break down as a tool to help him see if anything happened to Eddie he would stay with Buck. He would have his chosen family and Carla still.

That scene wasn't a cliffhanger and honestly could have been done any way. He could have just said your my brother my best friend, I need you to know your not expendable to me. I never want you to step in front of a bullet for me.

Fathers is such a recurring theme in Buddies storyline. So to any anons who are bummed or feeling impatient. Like I don't know what the story will be but they clearly have been working on one and I think it's gonna be amazing.

Hi Nonnie! Thank you for the lovely ask!

I agree with a lot of your bottom line, but if it’s okay, I”d like to also share my own POV?

I have to say I do think there was a point to the legal guardian reveal. It didn’t solve all of Buck’s issues with his self-esteem and his recklessness, but I think that at that moment, it helped. Buck was sitting there by Eddie’s hospital bed, blaming himself and expressing self-destructive (even suicidal) notions, and Eddie told him in the firmest, most loving way possible to quit it. That Buck’s not expendable. That he has a family that needs him. A family which chose him. And yeah, that’s coming after the rest of Buck’s life taught him differently. When you’re running on an empty tank your entire life, one can of gasoline doesn’t fix all the damage that took place along the years. Healing does not happen at once. It doesn’t happen with one statement of love. It happens over time. It happens with repetition. With constant reminders. It happens thanks to the consistency of love. I mean, I think that this is true even for people who didn’t grow up deprived of love, but especially for them. It has to be a series of moments, not just one. So I think that reveal is one in a chain of meaningful statements of love that Buck and Eddie have had and will continue to have together, starting with their initial, mutual one in 201, and it continues in 303 with Eddie’s declaration of trust in Buck, in 414 and the guardianship reveal, as well as Buck being there for Eddie during and after his breakdown in s5.

Yes, I love the journey of healing Eddie is having with his dad! I love that they both are healing and growing. And I expect we might see some more of that with Buck and his own parents, since 405 only started to lay the groundwork for that, but hasn’t had a chance to continue that theme since. But no, I don’t think it has a bearing on how essential the guardianship reveal is. Ramon is someone Eddie is coming to trust more, but Buck has always been the person he trusts the most in the world, even over Abuela and Tia Pepa, who unlike Ramon had always been there for the Diaz boys.

And alongside all of that, I agree with you that there were other ways in which Eddie could have told Buck “I want and need you.” He didn’t, because the most meaningful thing in Eddie’s life is being a dad. And he knows Buck loves kids and that he treats Chris as if he were his own. So Eddie is aware nothing will get to Buck more than the statements we heard in 303 and 414. And yes, that’s because fatherhood plays a really significant role in Buddie’s storyline. They would have been the best of friends and soulmates even if there were no Chris, I have no doubt about it. But Chris does exist and he helped turn them from just partners and soulmates into co-parents and a family unit, too. So every time themes of fatherhood are explored, it very much plays into what they have, and it’s a part of why I wrote in my 608 meta that I do think both Buck and Eddie’s storylines this season along these themes need to converge with them communicating about it all. And I’m looking forward to it! I believe that’s more or less what you’re saying as well? So I’m excited for all of us to see how it all unfolds in the 6a finale and in 6b!

Thank you again, I hope you have a great day, hon! And as always, here is my ask tag! xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #evan buck buckley #christopher diaz #ask #anon ask #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

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UBI would just be giving people handouts, though. Like, "congrats your alive you get money" doesn't provide the best incentive to work? We're going to have a lot of freeloaders if we do that.

Uhhhh.

First of all, I think it's pretty obvious from my other posts that you and I are not going to agree about this, so I'm not sure what you're trying to accomplish here. Second of all, I... don't.... see.... what's....wrong with a government fundamentally providing basic financial support to its citizens??? There are plenty of people who CAN'T work for one reason or another and who struggle all their lives on extremely meager levels of support that the ableist state has decided they can (very grudgingly) be allowed to have, despite their terrible sin of not being able to join the workforce. Besides, the "UBI will make those lazy freeloaders not work!!!" is a) capitalist propaganda and b) not even true. Finland is one of the countries to have completed a UBI trial and guess what! People who received it were actually more likely to be in work after the trial ended!

Interestingly, the final results of Finland’s program, released this spring, found that a basic income actually had a positive impact on employment. People on the basic income were more likely to be employed than those in the control group, and the differences were statistically significant, albeit small.

This coincided with a strong uptick in mental health, positive social support, and other quality-of-life indicators. The people in the Finnish trial received €560 a month, which is obviously not enough to replace work-related income, but which DID provide enough extra funding to help fill critical gaps and provide more peace of mind. Besides, humans are naturally industrious and like doing things?? And are usually happy to work and find ways to occupy themselves, and the idea that they only "deserve" to survive or have their basic needs met if they're working long hours at a job that they probably hate is, again, capitalistic propaganda nonsense (not to mention, has strong undercurrents of social Darwinism, eugenics, and other questionable social philosophies).

In a world that is so wildly economically unjust, where a tiny handful of people control an incredibly disproportionate amount of wealth and so many people suffer with so little, you're simply never going to convince me, ever, that making more effort to financially meet their basic needs is a bad thing. For God's sake, giving them five hundred extra bucks a month, if we're replicating the Finland conditions, is hardly going to create a culture of "freeloaders." Why is that worse than forcing them to work multiple jobs for shit wages and still struggling? Why is their "production" the only important thing about them? Why is this the metric you've chosen to complain about in what is, as noted, an entirely theoretical program that is decades away from being politically feasible in America, if ever, and yet has been experimented and implemented in successful democratic-socialist societies that are, gasp, NOT AMERICA?

In short, as it has been put before and is still the best way to say it: I don't know how to explain to you that you should care about other people. Because, as noted, of all the outrageous economic injustices that currently exist in this world, it's extremely confusing to me that this is the one you would choose to complain about. And in closing: any UBI program in America would be funded, a la Social Security and Medicare, with taxpayer money. So that is YOUR MONEY to start with (and that of everyone who has ever paid a single penny in federal or state tax for any reason, which is almost every single American citizen over the age of 18). It's not "giving handouts" to distribute it back to poor people, rather than continuing to jigger the system so rich people pay nothing into it at all and are allowed to reap insane profits. And the idea that all other working people are your enemy and if they get anything, there will be less for you, is a deliberate technique used to keep you blaming each other, and not seriously questioning the grotesque accumulation of those at the very top. Because yeah. Uh. I think they can absolutely afford to fucking share.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #wow the kool-aid is strong with some of y'all

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wanderingwomanwondering · 2 years

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Fire Captain Buck Meta - 413 & 601

In 413, a few minutes before the shooting Buck and Eddie rolled up to Charlie’s apartment in Bobby’s Captain SUV. The 133 was already on the scene. As Buck and Eddie approached the building, Captain Mehta jokingly asked Buck if he had been promoted. Buck hurriedly replied that it was the only vehicle available.

What happened happened and then we got a string of events that showed that even though Buck had not been promoted to Fire Captain at a firehouse, he absolutely had been promoted symbolically to Fire Captain in Eddie’s life. We got Buck hulking Eddie off the pavement and into the fire engine. We got Buck taking care of Chris when Eddie couldn’t. Eddie’s will reveal in the event of a deadly event. The tough love about Eddie needing to break up with Ana after his panic attacks. Buck trying to extinguish Eddie’s emotional fire when he was worried about Chris’ Christmas nightmares and being a bad father. Buck asked Eddie to stop pretending when he was clearly tired and running on empty because of all the trauma and lack of distractions to stave off the pain. Buck crossed town in a mad dash to answer Chris when he called. Buck broke down Eddie’s door when he struggled to open it himself. He soothed Chris’ fears for Eddie during that time as much as he could even though he himself was afraid for his friend and partner. Buck held space for Eddie and his deepest fears when he was in tears and grieving the loss of his fellow soldiers. He helped Eddie to see that he needed to do more than just attend therapy; he needed to participate and let therapy be a part of his healing fr. He took Chris to school and helped Chris with his homework and cleared the table after. He sat quietly and listened to Eddie fears about the randomness of their vocation. Then he helped Eddie to restore his lost sense of purpose. Evan Buckley has spent the last season (longer really) taking his place at Eddie’s side in a huge way. Fire (Co-)Captain. Managing the scene while Eddie’s old patterns burn away. Mitigating the fallout as much as possible. Saving what matters when some things that are on fire just have to burn.

Now Buck wants to be considered for Interim Captain at the 118 while Bobby is on his honeymoon. But it’s not about that really. If the subtext of the 601 Buddipher dinner conversation and the subtext of 413 through season 5 have anything to say about it, s6 Fire Captain Buck is about Buck’s own traumas and struggles. About his sense of self and his worth. Maybe even about showing up for himself and going as hard for himself as he does for others. Eddie’s hurdle was similar. He put everything into Chris and forgot to take care of himself. Now Buck has to learn a similar lesson. How to not center his entire sense of himself inside other people’s thoughts, opinion’s and needs, no matter who those people are. That’s why Bobby told Buck that he had to figure out for himself if he’s at peace or not and decide to take care of himself.

All of this for Buck is also about the way Eddie and Chris factor into his life. “What are you offering?” was Eddie’s question to him at dinner...what does Buck actively want FOR HIMSELF, not for others. He’s setting a whole new direction for himself - self improvement for his own sake. He’s not meant to spend his life as an Interim Captain at someone else’s firehouse.

Something @stagefoureddiediaz said in a recent post about Buck and the temporary nature of the Interim Captain position made me think...At work Buck can be a Captain someday, equal to Nash and Mehta. In his personal life he can pinch hit for loved ones but beyond that...MORE than that he needs to show up as his full beautiful self and CHOOSE to stand at Eddie’s side officially and completely and with eyes wide open as to what he has to offer his beloved Buckley-Diaz Family and why HE wants to be there with them FOR HIMSELF. I know we talk a lot in the fandom about Eddie needing to choose and Buck needing to be chosen. Ultimately I think that’s still very true but Buck needs to know WHO he’s asking someone to choose which requires knowing himself better and making peace with who he is.

Because Buck’s life is so intertwined with Eddie and Chris his personal work is necessarily going to involve the Diazes. Just like Eddie’s personal work necessarily involved (and still involves) Buck. This season is gonna make me cry tears of EVERY kind, I just know it!

#evan buckley #buddie #buddipher #buckley diaz family #911 meta #911 6x01 #911 fox

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willowcrowned · 3 years

Text

So the thing about Qui-Gon, really, is that he can be such a variable character. And I think that's great! Playing around with him isn't so much having your cake and eating it as having an assortment of free gourmet cupcakes that are all for you, and that makes it really rewarding to, say, flip him around and magnify his worst traits until they far outweigh his redeeming qualities.

(Warning: if you want, say, strawberry shortcake Qui-Gon, who is a menace but in a fun way, or raspberry swirl Qui-Gon, who is good and kind and open to growth, this is not the AU for you. Good? Good.)

Qui-Gon's interactions with Obi-Wan are shaped by his own grief and guilt. He blames himself for Xanatos, if not fully, then at least in part, and that really shows in the way he treats Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan for him is a test, and one that he cannot afford to fail. Whatever mistakes he made that led him to Fall—cannot be repeated with Obi-Wan. Where he offered affirmation with Xanatos, he now offers criticism; where he offered praise, he now says nothing. Obi-Wan must be humble, must be thoughtful, must be entirely lacking in pride, so much so that he takes every criticism from an authority figure to heart.

So Qui-Gon does his job, but he does it too well. Obi-Wan is humble, and dutiful, and entirely lacking in the confidence he should rightly have in himself. But more than that—more even than Obi-Wan's staunch belief that he is a burden to Qui-Gon, and that Qui-Gon holds almost no affection for him—is the fact that Obi-Wan has taken every deviation from the rules as a mark against him, and has internalized the idea that orders should be followed.

This in itself, Qui-Gon views as a failing. Obi-Wan is alternately to consumed with the minutiae, too blind to the greater cosmic powers at work, or too absorbed with systems, and ignorant of the people—whichever narrative serves Qui-Gon best when he disapproves of Obi-Wan's actions. Obi-Wan works within systems, tries to change them from the inside out. Sometimes, that's not enough, and when that happens—when Obi-Wan refuses to break rules, whether out of rightful fear of consequences or sheer inability to buck his training— Qui-Gon views that as a personal failing.

Obi-Wan, he thinks, is too much a child of the Order. Obi-Wan, he thinks, represents everything wrong with the Jedi.

Then Anakin comes along, and Obi-Wan is cast off, but Qui-Gon survives. Anakin is taken as Qui-Gon's padawan, and Obi-Wan is cast off, still believing Qui-Gon has never cared for him. True or not, that keeps him from reaching out. True or not, Anakin is left alone with Qui-Gon, scared and suspicious of everyone but the man who rescued him, and unwilling to listen to anybody who criticizes his savior. After all, none of the other Jedi rescued him. How good can they be?

Qui-Gon is left with a boy he truly believes is the Chosen One—a boy who is scared and traumatized and a boy who would destroy the galaxy if he Fell.

Anakin, who is nine, and isolated, and has only ever been a slave, gets two wildly conflicting messages from Qui-Gon. First, he is a savior and a hero, and he must live up to that. Second, he's doing everything wrong, and is a complete disappointment in every aspect. For Anakin, failure means torture or death. He has no reason to believe otherwise here.

Anakin knows his role is to be what Qui-Gon wants—to be a savior, and a hero, and a perfect padawan who listens to everything Qui-Gon says and hates everything Qui-Gon hates. And when Qui-Gon fails to provide affirmation—something that even Watto, who beat Anakin, did—well, that just means Anakin needs to work harder.

He's a slave again—he never really stopped being one—only this time, his master doesn't know it. Only this time, Anakin adores the man who controls him.

Meanwhile, Qui-Gon grows more and more isolated from the Jedi, more and more disgusted with how they comport themselves. He feels ignored, both because they refuse to acknowledge Anakin as the Chosen One and because they've done nothing about the Sith. They've become weak, and useless, and ineffective, even when the truth is screaming itself in their ears.

At the same time, the Council sees Qui-Gon isolating himself and his apprentice—not quite poisoning his mind, but... not leaving him open to other input. The Order is not a group of individuals, but a unit, and Qui-Gon is ignoring that.

When Anakin is fourteen, they try to separate the two—theoretically just for a few months.

Neither Anakin nor Qui-Gon believe them.

Both of them are furious. Qui-Gon rails against it. When it comes down to it, he says, the Council has no right to separate them.

The Council has the right.

That night, Anakin, terrified and furious, makes a plan to stay with Qui-Gon. For years, he's been caught between who he is and who he thinks he should be. For years, he's been scared and isolated and reliant on one person for safety. He doesn't believe in the good faith of the Jedi. He doesn't believe he'd be anything better than a slave to them. He doesn't believe he'd be safe.

He kills every one of the Council members he can get his hands on. None of them see him coming. He kills anyone who gets in his way.

Qui-Gon doesn't realize what's been done until the next morning. Obi-Wan's bod is slumped on the floor outside the door, Anakin standing over him.

Anakin is smiling when he turns around. Finally, Qui-Gon can rebuild the Order to be better with Anakin at his side.

#anyways i think qui gon and anakin's relationship here is just THE most compelling kind of tire fire #and boy howdy do I have a fun idea or two about how that dynamic manifests #oh and obi-wan died trying to defend qui-gon from anakin :)#just so you know :)#star wars #star wars au #willow's aus #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #@mandaloriandy come get your terrible qui gon #he's not Evil but he does kind of suck

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

You're Teasing Me

Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Sam offers to help you when Bucky refuses to duet with you on karaoke night.

Warnings: promiscuous themes lmao

Word Count: 2200

a/n: we back baby, another karaoke fic lol. This one came to me and I just needed it in my life. Song is Promiscuous Girl by Nelly Furtado feat. Timbaland.

Just bold is you, italics and bold is Sam!

Masterlist

"Bucky, come on!" You pleaded, desperate to get him to agree.

He just huffed, continuing on his path to the kitchen.

"It'll be fun! We can sing something from high school musical! Or something from the 40s!" You tried encouraging him with a song choice.

"Look, Doll. I don't sing. I just can't do it." He wouldn't look at you, no matter where you placed yourself in the room.

"That's not true. I've heard you sing!" You challenged, completely making up the statement.

"Okay, well I don't sing in front of people." He eyes you suspiciously, wondering when you could have heard him singing. "At least, not on purpose."

You let out a low whine, trying to think of a way to convince him. Just then, Sam and Steve walked into the room.

"Uh oh, what did tin man do this time?" Sam chuckled at your pout.

"He won't sing with me at Tony's duets-only karaoke party." It was your turn to huff, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout.

"C'mon Buck! You're a great singer." Steve encouraged his friend, unaware of why he didn't want to do it.

"No can do, punk." Bucky glared at Steve, annoyed that he wasn't on his side.

"I'll do it." Sam cut in, knowing it would annoy Bucky if he sang with you.

"Really?!" You jumped from your seat at the island, excited at the idea of someone singing with you.

"Sure, it'll be fun." Sam replied with mischief in his eyes.

You squealed in excitement, throwing yourself at Sam for a hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You grabbed his hand, dragging him out of the room. "We have to go pick a song!"

Steve turned back to Bucky after laughing at your childlike enthusiasm, not missing the glare on the brunette's face.

Steve just shook his head, laughing again. "You could have just agreed to sing with her."

"I could not. I can't take that chance! What if I stared at her for too long and she figured everything out!" Bucky exclaimed, affronted by Steve's statement.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Steve knew this conversation would lead nowhere, but he was going to try anyway. "Maybe there's a reason she asked you?"

"Because I'm her friend." Bucky glared again. "That's how she sees me."

"I think you're wrong." Steve shook his head, leaving Bucky to contemplate his decisions alone in the kitchen

"Let's cut to the chase." Sam started talking, cutting off your list of song choices.

"About what?" You questioned back, thrown off by the statement.

"You've got a thing for Buckaroo." He said it with so much confidence, you almost forgot to deny it.

"No, I don-"

"And he's got a thing for you." Sam cut you off, you're eyes going wide.

"He what? How do you know that?" You narrowed your eyes, wanting to know more, but not knowing if you could fully trust Sam.

"Look, I wouldn't joke about this. I can tell Barnes likes you, specifically because of how much he denies it."

You bit your lip in thought, wondering if it could really be true. Ultimately, you tried to change the subject.

"Can't we just pick a song?"

"That's why I brought it up. I think I know a way to get him to admit his feelings..." Sam grinned, the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he had in the kitchen.

"O-okay. How?" You slowly asked, unsure if a plan concocted by Sam WIlson would pan out.

"The song choice. I've got the best one to make him regret not agreeing to sing with you."

He smirked again, somehow convincing you to follow along with his idea.

"Our next duet..." Tony glanced down at his list, scanning for the next two names. "Sam and Y/N!"

You squeezed Sam's hand, still unsure about his plan. You refused to look at Bucky, too nervous to see his expression, completely missing the daggers he was glaring at Sam.

The two of you jumped right into the song Sam chose, wearing completely mismatched expressions.

"Am I throwing you off?"

"Nope"

"Didn't think so."

The instrumental track in the background started to ease your nerves, allowing you to actually enjoy the performance.

"How you doin' young lady? The feelin' that your givin' really drives me crazy."

Sam was all smiles, doing his best to keep your nerves from getting the best of you.

Bucky choked on his drink when he took in the song. He had never heard it before, but judging by the first few lines he wasn't going to like that it was Sam singing with you.

"Your dope have a player 'bout to choke. I was at a loss of words, first time that we spoke."

Bucky let the words sink in. He knew Sam must've chosen this song. It wasn't even in the top twenty suggestions you gave him when you were asking him to sing.

Bucky's 'player' status from the 40s never really came back in the present. He was too guilty, too stuck in his head with everything he had been through.

The first time he met you, he was speechless. You were so kind and accepting, he didn't know how to respond to your compliments and reassurance.

"If you lookin' for a girl that'll treat you right, if you lookin' for her in the daytime with the light..."

You still refused to make eye contact with Bucky, knowing if it didn't go well you would mess up the rest of the song.

Bucky held his breath as you started singing. Everything you said applied directly to him, but you were singing to Sam.

"You might be the type if I play my cards right. I'll find out by the end of the night."

Sam winked at you causing Bucky to feel a pit of jealousy growing in his stomach, just wanting the song to be over so he could talk to you.

"You expect me to just let you hit it, but will you still respect me if you get it?"

Sam grinned like a man possessed, knowing the next line would really get to Bucky.

"All I can do is try, gimme one chance."

He looked directly at Bucky. It was taunting, almost as if he was saying "this could have been you."

"What's the problem, I don't see no ring on your hand."

Bucky was seeing red. He knew Sam was doing this to mess with him, but he couldn't figure out why you would agree to it.

Maybe Sam told you about Bucky's crush? But, you wouldn't tease him like this. Not unless...

He tuned back into your performance just in time for the chorus.

"Promiscuous girl, wherever you are. I'm all alone, and it's you that I want."

Sam subtly gestured for you to look at Bucky, encouraging you to take a chance. You made direct eye contact with him as you sang, trying to listen to Sam's advice.

"Promiscuous boy, you already know, that I'm all yours what are you waiting for?"

Bucky couldn't stop the ear to ear smile from growing on his face as you sang those words directly to him. You smiled right back, nerves fading completely due to the look on his face.

You threw yourself into the performance, really wanting to give him a show now that you were confident Sam was right.

"Promiscuous girl, you're teasing me. You know what I want, and you got what I need."

Sam looked between you and Bucky, a smug smile appearing on his face. Of course he was right.

You surprised both Sam and Bucky as you kept singing, dancing with Sam in a less than platonic way.

"Promiscuous boy, let's get to the point. 'Cause we're on a roll, you ready?"

Sam faltered for a second before realizing, you were trying to tease Bucky for waiting so long. Teasing Bucky is definitely something he could get on board with.

The two of you danced around the stage, having the time of your lives. Every so often, you would look at Bucky, making sure he was still enjoying the show.

"Roses are read, some diamonds are blue. Chivalry is dead but you're still kinda cute."

Bucky blushed as you made eye contact again. The way you were dancing with Sam filled him with a mixture of jealousy and arousal.

"Hey, I can't keep my mind off you. Where you at? Do you mind if I come through?"

Steve clapped Bucky on his back, drawing his attention from the two of you as you continued the song.

"Don't say it, punk." Bucky was trying to sound intimidating, but the lovestruck look on his face did little to aid him.

"I'm going to say it, jerk. That could've been you up there. Singing..." Steve drew out the pause. "Dancing..." He chuckled as Bucky blushed further.

Steve himself blushed as you and Sam performed, although not for the same reasons as Bucky. He just wasn't used to modern dancing.

Bucky waved him off as he once again made eye contact with you.

"I'm a big girl I can handle myself, but if I get lonely I'ma need your help. Pay attention to me, I don't talk for my health."

You moved your body against Sam's slowly, dragging out the moves as you smirked at Bucky.

"I want you on my team."

"So does everybody else."

You pouted your lips before your tongue darted out to lick the bottom one. You couldn't help but bite your lip at the thought of finally talking to Bucky when this was over.

"Baby, we can keep it on the low. Let your guard down, ain't nobody gotta know. If you with it girl, I know a place we can go."

You finally separated from Sam, looking at him in mock offense to play up the song. You put your hand not holding the mic over your heart, shaking your head with an innocent expression.

"What kinda girl do you take me for?"

You and Sam danced around through another chorus, although much less suggestively than your previous moves.

The song was like static in Bucky's ears as he stared at you, willing time to move faster so he could finally talk to you.

Sam kept smirking at Bucky as he sang, thoroughly enjoying the other man's misery at watching you and him perform.

"Wait, I don't mean no harm. I can see you with my t-shirt on."

"I can see you with nothing on, feeling on me before you bring that on."

You fanned yourself and bit your lip, playing up the sexual themes of the song. Everyone was having a blast watching and listening to you and Sam.

Nat and Wanda were dancing, knowing smiles on their faces as you shamelessly stared at Bucky during the dirtiest parts of the song, knowing you'd get a rise out of him.

Steve kept looking between you, Sam, and Bucky, for once enjoying that he wasn't the one being teased with sexual dancing.

Tony was trying to grind on Pepper, the two of them laughing and smiling as she swatted him away.

You jumped around the stage through the ending of the song, feeling freer than ever knowing your secret was basically out. Anyone who didn't know, clearly wasn't paying enough attention.

You and Sam slid an arm around each other as you finished the song, taking a bow as everyone cheered you on.

As you left the stage, Sam addressed the applause. "Thank you! Thank you!" He bowed again. "I would like to point out, that song was my choice. You're welcome." He said the last part directly to Bucky, ignoring the ever present glares being thrown at him.

You cleared your throat once you were close enough, drawing Bucky's attention away from Sam, who for some reason was still onstage.

"That was quite the performance, doll." Bucky smiled, slightly nervous now that you were so close.

"Well, I had to make you'd regret not agreeing to sing with me." You cheekily replied, still basking in your karaoke confidence. You moved closer, putting one hand on his chest and reaching the other for the back of his neck.

Bucky groaned at the feeling of your hands on him, reciprocating the touches. He moved a hand to your waist, the other taking up residence on your cheek.

"You're teasing me." You whispered as he just stared at you.

"I'd say it's only fair. I had to watch you dance with Sam." Bucky grinned, enjoying the banter.

"That's your own fault." You huffed, annoyed it was taking so long for him to kiss you. "I asked- no, begged you to do karaoke with me. It's not my fault you-"

He cut you off, pressing his lips to your own. You immediately reciprocated the action, eagerly pulling him closer.

"Let me make it up to you." Bucky breathe out when you finally pulled apart for air.

You smiled, fully separating yourself from him and walking toward the door.

When you were a few steps away from him, you turned back, looking him up and down. "What are you waiting for?"

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #steve rogers #mcu #tony stark #pepper potts #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel fic

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stagefoureddiediaz · 2 years

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Unless the kiss comes back into play but I dont think it will lucy gives buck 1.0 vibes it was just fun not a big deal, the breakup will be about eddie/chris. People have said that buck is abbey place in s1 and Taylor in his but the difference is I dont think she will step into it the way buck did to help(after bobby talk). Thats not a thing against tyalor but she thought she moving with childfree bf but now lhes gone most of time helping eddie and looking after someones in her eyes) kid

Hey Nonnie

I do think the kiss will come back into play - but not from Lucy's side - the kiss is going to very much be about Taylor - and Buck and Taylors relationship. Like I've said previously - if it wasn't going to come back into play somehow, Buck would've paired his confession to Taylor that it was Lucy. That he's 'allowing' Taylor to continue to think it's a 'rando club girl' - that he's continuing to omit the full truth speaks volumes.

Lucy is very much giving off 'just a bit of fun' vibes and like I said in a previous ask - Buck is the main character - Lucy is not, so anything that happens to her in relation to Buck - is about Buck (I hate that we're still using women as vehicles for furthering male characters) and Lucy has very clearly moved on from the incident.

Taylor is very much in a similar position to Buck with Abby, and you're right in that I don't think we'll see her stepping in and supporting Buck in the way he tried to do with Abby. The interesting thing is that with Taylor we've seen her compromise who she actually is as a part of being in this relationship - she's lost the backbone and no fucks given attitude we saw from her prior to becoming Bucks girlfriend. this is different to Buck with Abby in that Buck was always looking to step in (I think the talk with Bobby was just him needing someone to confirm that it was okay and right to do so - because it wasn't something he'd had the opportunity to do before), he wanted that deeper and more meaningful connection.

Whereas Taylor has never given that vibe - and they spent enough time focussing on her in 5a that if they wanted to truly reform her and shown her growth and made her into a good fit for who Buck is they would've done it then and in a way that didn't compromise her true character and make it feel like she's had a personality transplant. That they didn't just shows they're not really interested in her beyond Bucks growth and the fact that its looking very much like her unethical behaviour will be making a comeback. This just emphasises that she's not as similar to Buck 1.0 as people say - we're not going to see anything of her while Buck is supporting Eddie and Chris and that will vey much imply that her job will always come first.

I'm not a fan of the way that they've chosen to go about this and I will maintain that they way way overused her in 5a because we didn't really get much from her constant appearance (especially at the detriment of other characters and storylines) that couldn't have been achieved in quicker and different ways, but the storyline of growth, staying in relationships that don't serve either party becasue its preferable to being alone and that that can lead to us behaving out of our normal character (not being our true self) is in fact an interesting story to tell.

#kym answers things #nonnie asks #911 discourse #911 on fox #911 fox #911onfox #911 #evan buckley #buck #anti taylor kelly #anti bucktaylor

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boykingsw · 4 years

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eddie week day 4 - "I don't deserve this." + guilt

established buddie, 853 words

AO3 Link

The house is quiet when Eddie walks in the door, and Buck is waiting. He smiles up at him from his place on the couch, and that one simple thing is enough for Eddie to feel the stress from the last few hours of his shift start to fall away.

"Hey," Eddie says, toeing off his shoes and coming closer. "I figured you'd be asleep by the time I got home."

Buck shakes his head. "I wanted to wait for you." It's a small thing, but after so long of not having someone to come home to late at night, it makes Eddie's heart feel a little too big for his chest.

Eddie moves to sit down next to him, but Buck's hand on his arm stops him. "Hold that thought," he says, standing.

Eddie scowls at him, puzzled, but Buck just laces their fingers together and leads him to the sliding patio door, bringing them out into the backyard. The air is cool for a summer night, but the hand in his is warm -as is the smile on Buck's face- and he has to look away before he gets too drawn into it and forgets that they're even here at all.

It's not until he does that, that he recognizes what's going on. The blanket laid out on the grass; the covered platter of meats, cheeses and fruit sitting on top; the soft music that drifts from the speaker as Buck presses play.

"I figured you might need a bit of time to unwind after your shift," Buck explains.

He squeezes Eddie's hand and drops it, kneeling down to start rearranging things on the blanket. Eddie stays still, taking everything in, and it all feels too good to be true -too good for him.

The stars above their heads; the cool breeze drifting around them; the small smile as Buck sits there expectantly, waiting -always willing to wait. It all paints such a perfect picture and Eddie's not even sure if he belongs in it.

"Buck," he says quietly, trying not to disturb the stillness. "Why do you do all of this?"

Buck instantly looks alarmed. "Do you not like it? If you just want to go right to bed I understand-"

"No," Eddie says quickly. "No, I love it, I just-" He sighs. "I don't deserve this."

"What?" Buck shakes his head, disbelieving. "Eddie, of course you do."

"But I never-" He steps forward. "I never do anything like this for you."

"I don't need you to. I don't do these things so that you'll return the favor, I do it because I love you."

"I know that," Eddie says, because he does. Buck does so much for him and never asks for a thing in return, because that's just who he is. Selfless and loyal; loving without bounds and willing to share it with the world no matter how the world treats him.

But why he's chosen Eddie, of all people, as a vessel to pour that love into, he still can't wrap his head around.

"I've never been good at this stuff," Eddie says. "The surprises and grand gestures. Shannon always said I wasn't great at romance, but I want to be. You deserve it."

Buck stands, moving closer to grasp Eddie's hands in his. "Eds, I know you love me. I don't need you to shout it from the rooftops for me to feel it."

Eddie shakes his head. "But how? How do you know, if I never show it?"

"Well, you tell me all the time," Buck says with an amused smile on his face -and it's true. Once he realised he could say the words, he never wanted to stop. "But you do show me. Just in different ways."

Eddie pauses. "How?"

"By listening to me, and taking in everything I say, even when I know you don't care."

Eddie laughs. "I care."

"By bringing my favourite coffee order to the station in the morning."

"You get grumpy without it."

Buck smiles at the joke, but then his face settles into something more sincere. He brings a hand up to cup Eddie's cheek.

"By trusting me with Christopher, no matter what," he says.

Eddie shakes his head. "I know you'd never let anything happen to him."

"See that's the thing, you know me," Buck stresses. "You pay attention. You see me -every part, the good and the bad- and you love me anyway."

Like that was ever a question. "How could I not?"

Buck smiles. "All these small things, I notice them. They mean something, I know they do. And it's more than enough." He pauses, looking into Eddie's eyes, then adds; "You're more than enough."

Eddie swallows. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." A soft kiss to his lips. "Don't ever change."

They settle down onto the blanket to eat, letting the cool air close in around them as they press together for comfort. They talk, and laugh, and kiss, and each press of his lips against Buck's is a silent promise -to love him in every way possible, for as long as he can.

He keeps it.

#i am sleep deprived and wrote this in like an hour #so enjoy #woo #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #eddiediazweek2021 #katewrites

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ushidoux · 4 years

Text

Look at Me, Senpai - Hinata x Reader x Daichi (Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader starts to see Hinata in a different light once he returns from Brazil. It turns out Hinata’s inability to give up isn’t just something restricted to the court. (~1.8k words)

Warnings: fem!reader, nsfw, infidelity, a touch of the yandere

A/N: Idk how long this fic is gonna get but we’re nearing the big mess. I hope you enjoy reading and let me know what you think!

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

Leave him.

Hinata’s voice still rang in the back of your head but you would ignore it. Today, you would try on wedding dresses. You’d chosen Daichi, after all.

You trailed behind your older sister, who had flown in from overseas just for the occasion, and your mother who chattered excitedly between themselves, linked arm in arm, as they essentially tore through the bridal shop ahead of you.

“Try this, ___! It’s so beautiful and just look at that embroidery!” your sister insisted, almost snatching a backless and lacy gown from the hands of a terrified employee.

“No, this looks better!” Your mother pushed back, pulling another dress off the rack with no decorum to the other employee’s obvious dismay.

“Look at how high that collar is! Is she getting married to God?”

Meanwhile, you wondered if it was sacrilegious to be wearing white at the wedding given the circumstances.

If you truly loved him, you wouldn’t be like this with me. Why pretend?

Why not be 100% true to yourself?

Hinata’s dreadful honesty continued to weigh heavily on you as you weaved in and out of dresses, feigning excitement as best you could in order to not tip off your annoyingly perceptive sister.

Only marry someone you love.

“You look beautiful, ___. I think this is the one,” your sister spoke up from the outside, now slipping into the dressing room to get a first glance at you once your mother slipped off for a quick bathroom break.

You whispered a word of thanks as you looked yourself now clad in the one you had also settled on as the perfect gown in the full length mirror, trying to envision the look on Daichi’s face as you came down the aisle, the picture of an angel in the flesh, promising to devote yourself to him forever. You could see your sister purse her lips behind you from the reflection, and you knew she was sizing up your facial expressions.

Oh God, maybe she wouldn’t-

“Cold feet?”

She did.

Your heart sank as you bit your lip, trying to hold back tears, but before you could your sister continued in a soft voice.

“It’s not unnatural to have cold feet.” She took a seat in the small stool set at the corner of the room and crossed her legs before looking at you carefully, a reassuring smile spread on her face. “You remember that I almost ran away the day of my wedding, right?”

The image of her drunk and crying two nights before, eerily calm one night before and practically jumping out the window in her own white dress thirty minutes before she gracefully walked down the aisle came to mind and you found yourself stifling a laugh. She smiled in response to your reaction, all was not lost as long as you could still laugh.

“It’ll be fine, as long as you love him.”

Did you love him?

“How were you sure?” You asked now as you hastily slipped out of the dress. A part of you wondered if you were just being dramatic, but the gentle fabric felt as though it were tightening on your skin despite being the perfect fit.

She let out a sigh and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I want to say something wise and romantic, like, ‘it was when we met eyes’ or ‘when he walked three miles in the snow to change my flat tire’, but to be honest, it was probably when I realized I couldn’t imagine life with anyone else. I know that sounds cliché but it’s the honest truth.”

She looked you in the eyes and sensed the waters muddying within rather than clearing up, and pursed her lips.

“If you want to tell me what’s going on, you can.”

Your body tensed for a millisecond. You knew you could tell her anything, but this? Cheating on your fiancé so shamelessly right after the engagement? There were limits to human understanding, but then again, maybe admonishment from someone you trusted would get you on the right track.

You opened your mouth to speak but before you could offer up a single word, your mother rushed back into the room.

“Why’d you take off the dress before I could see it???” She fussed, and you grinned in response to her disappointed expression before switching back to the task at hand.

“Quick, put it back on!”

You would spare sissy dear the awful details.

---

Hinata didn’t call or text for the following week, and by the fifth day, the phantom rings and vibrations of your cell phone had started to drive you crazy. It was hard to concentrate on your art, on tasks of daily life, or preparing your wedding when all you could see flash in your mind’s eyes was what he looked like when you were under him. You told yourself it was the afterglow of lust and would eventually pass.

As if to palliate the pain of your separation, Daichi started to come home earlier than usual, and it began with him popping home at exactly noon on the next Saturday with flowers just because, an assortment of chocolates and takeout from your favorite restaurant.

“Let’s have a picnic,” he suggested, with a kiss on the forehead for his best girl.

You turned off your phone as you followed him out to the small park down the street, spending the early afternoon basking in the sunshine of spring and the warmth of Daichi’s affectionate regard.

Daichi pulled you into his arms as usual as you watched children play in the park with furry companions, couples riding bicycles and old ladies exchange gossip (and maybe launch a few surreptitious glances at the two of you). While the two of you were not strangers to public displays of affection, you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to become uncomfortable the more you noticed people looking at you. You couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe suddenly they were seeing you not as a regular couple at the park but for who you really were: a woman with a terrible secret and a man who was none the wiser.

Did it matter if you chose to be good to him from now on? Would that account for the betrayal?

Would that erase the fact that a small part of you wished Hinata was holding you right now instead?

---

Two weeks passed and you fought the urge to call Hinata Shoyo.

By now you knew it was something other than lust that drew you to him, now that Daichi took the time to satisfy the need for carnal intimacy every few nights, even if it wasn’t quite the passion of before, when you had just graduated from high school and all you had were your hopes for the future and each other, but a different type of practiced passion altogether between you.

Daichi knew all the things you liked and exactly how to make your body react in the way he wanted it to but while you were satisfied, you were still wanting.

Of what? Could you really say it was Hinata that you needed after such a short time together?

Daichi’s lips and tongue trailed down your soft belly as he held on firmly to your wrists above you, teasing you with promises of entering your privacy every time his mouth drew near, then wandered back up to your bosom.

“Not yet, darling, just wait for me like this.”

He leaned in, pressing his length against your thigh, forcing you to arch your back and buck against him, but he wouldn’t indulge you, laughing softly while his hold preventing you from reaching out to him remained steady.

“P-please, I want you, Daichi, just let me feel you, please.”

He had been edging you for the past twenty minutes but it felt more like hours and your body craved the feeling of fullness between your legs.

“You want to feel me, baby girl?” He growled, earning you a lash of the tongue right at your sex, sending a current through your spine.

“Yes...,” you let out a whimper, “please let me feel you.”

“This isn’t enough?” He asked, between licks and slurps of your wet cunt. “You taste so sweet for me, little baby, what if this is all I want to do now?”

Your mind swam with muddled pleasure as you closed your eyes and you were no longer thinking straight, all you had left in you was the ability to beg.

“Please, please put it inside me,” you continued to whine as he nibbled on one of your lower lips.

“Beg for Daddy’s cock,” he said, now kissing your mouth again, a large hand now gripping both of your wrists to hold you back as he pressed against you, the pressure on your chest and the pressure of his member just knocking at your entrance making it hard for you to breathe.

“P-please stop teasing me, S-Shoyo.”

A pause.

“What?” Daichi’s voice had reverted back to his regular voice, no longer thick with lusty mischief but with confusion, and he stopped his movements, unsure as to what you were trying to say to him. His grip relaxed around your hands, setting you free.

Your heart stopped as a panic set in, sobering you up almost entirely and you had to think fast, fast, fast.

“C-can ‘shoyu’ be out safeword, babe? I just wanna try something today, something a little different...” you mumbled, surprising yourself with how quickly you could lie under pressure. Awful. You were so awful.

He gave you a confused look, given that you didn’t usually use safewords, but it wasn’t a bad idea anyway, and he nodded with a small shrug before resuming with kisses to your neck.

Your heart continued to pound and you hoped he didn’t notice that the drum of your heartbeat now played fear. That was a close one.

Something had to give soon.

---

The next day, Daichi seemed to have expedited that process for you.

“Hey, I’m gonna have Hinata come for dinner tomorrow night,” he called out from the shower casually as you started your skincare routine. If not for the fact that you were literally splashing cold water in your face, there would be no other reason for the ice now running through your veins.

“No problem right? I can come back early to help you make dinner beforehand.”

“... No problem.”

153 notes · View notes

moonlights-inkwell · 4 years

Text

I’m Weak, My Love (And I am Wanting)

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 5,525

Summary: After a night of drinking, you dance with a stranger. Jaskier is jealous. Jealous enough to do something extreme

A/N: Two Fics in one day? Who is she? I have no idea.

This fic is dumb and super unbeta’d but oh well, sorry for any bad writing and junk. I’ve mentioned Jaskier being jealous before and wanted to write something to go with it.

Title from Her Sweet Kiss.

Warnings: Public Sex, slight degradation, Reader is drunk, Jaskier is insecure.

You feel the eyes on you before you even really understand what they are, hairs on the back of your neck standing up on end. It’s distracting as all hell.

“Fuck!”

The word comes out loud and slurred as you stumble over your own feet mid-dance. You’re drunk, or if not drunk then tipsy enough to know that you soon will be- the feeling is more than welcome. Working, fighting as you have been, it leaves little time these sorts of festivities, the kind that reminds you of home. The rush from guzzling down tankard after tankard of sickly-sweet apple cider is unrivalled in its ability to make you feel girlish and giddy. And so, you’re dancing. Or were, as it may be, before you tripped.

Your compatriots don’t join you, but you rather expected that before abandoning the table. Geralt seldom allows himself to indulge in such luxuries- like smiling, or engaging in pleasantries, so you assume that dancing is far beyond his capabilities. He doesn’t even tap his foot when Jaskier performs catchy, often bawdy songs, in his honour, so this music, pretty but lacking in lyric or any type of familiarity is unlikely to rouse him to his feet. Besides, crowds are hardly something the White-haired man enjoys, standing out like a sore thumb amidst all of the mundane people of the village you’re staying in.

Jaskier, however, Jaskier staying at the table is a little odder. The bard adores crowds, feeds off of the energy that a group of people exudes and is able to talk to anyone, a trait you find intriguing and intimidating in equal measure, but he's sat. The tavern has a band of bards, all playing in unison to form something overwhelming and beautiful, so there is no chance for him to perform, to wink and sashay about while strumming his lute and lapping up attention. That had rather taken the wind out of his sails when he realised, souring his mood to a point where he isn’t even trying to dance with you. It had been upsetting at first, how he had essentially ignored you in favour of scowling and fingering the frets of his lute like the strings will make the other musicians disappear.

Ever since meeting the bard, you’ve thought him beautiful. Not beautiful, beautiful isn’t quite the right word. He's amazing. The kind of person for whom a natural sort of charm radiates from them, who would be attractive from personality alone, even if he wasn’t one of the most attractive men you have ever laid eyes upon. Ever since the two of you began... whatever it is the two of you have been doing, he's done his part to act as if you’re the only person in tge world to him, but right now? He only has eyes for the band. The coin that he could have earned would have been a godsend, but you don’t care about that right now, all you want is to dance with the bard. He's just. Sat there, scowling and sitting instead if dancing with you.

It’s such a simple thing to bring so much pleasure; dancing, especially when coupled with somewhere to do it, and this tavern certainly feels like an appropriate place for it. It’s heaving, overrun with people you assume must b locals, all laughing and chattering like they haven’t a care in the world. Perhaps they don’t, their only troubles coming in the form of what ale to drink and who they should dance with. You envy them that. Truly, you can’t remember a single one of your concerns from before you packed up and abandoned your life go travel with a wandering Witcher and his Bard. Logically, you know you must have had them, but not a single one is important enough to linger in your mind. Any domestic issue pales in comparison to fighting beasts, arguments about corsets and how near you may go to the woods forgotten in lieu of how best to fell a Wyvern or exactly where to hit any man who means to do you harm. It’s selfish to envy these people their lives when you know that you wouldn’t trade the life you have chosen for all the gold in the world. Mid-stumble, you catch yourself, and stand upright once more, bringing your tankard to your mouth and draining it before moving to place it on a table, only to fall over your feet once more, flinching for fear of impact with the ground. But it never comes, instead a pair of arms wind about your waist and tug you up to the body of one of the boys who had been dancing around you. He’s a pretty thing, a mop of blonde curls hanging about wide green eyes that stare at you like you’re a prize that’s fallen into his lap, and you grin up at him gratefully. It takes less than a second for him to tug you closer still and begin another dance, hand on your waist and the other gripping your hand; it’s nice, nice to feel wanted, even if it’s only for a night, a dance- there are worse ways to spend a night than hanging off the arm of some pretty stranger. Serves as a nice distraction from the bard as well. Well, it would be nice, if not for the feeling that you’re being watched, that has you craning your head to see who it is that is staring. Then, your eyes meet a gaze all too familiar.

Jaskier.

His eyes are narrowed into slits, brows knitted together and mouth downturns in a look that you don’t recognise on his face, but know all too well. A scowl. Jaskier doesn’t scowl, that’s a look used by Geralt or yourself, but right now he's scowling at you, glaring daggers into you and gripping the neck of his lute so tightly it looks as if it might break.

“Something wrong, Pretty Lady?” The blond asks playfully, making you turn your gaze away from the glowering man across the room to meet the eyes looking down at you.

“Oh. No. No, I just. Thought someone was looking at me.”

“The man in the red?” He asks, looking straight at Jaskier before chuckling, spinning you about and causing you to fall against his chest once more. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“What?” You ask incredulously, eyebrow raising. It's such a weird thing for him to say about a complete stranger, and you can’t really understand what he means. Jaskier is scowling, yes, but you assume it’s because you’re able to enjoy yourself while he cannot perform.

“He looks like he might murder me.” The boy tilts his head and leans his head in, mere centimetres from your face in such a way that has you thinking that he might kiss you. “Your husband?”

His question flusters you, only serving to make your cheeks flush bright red and a nervous laugh to escape your lips. Jaskier? A Husband? The idea of him being wed is so alien, even when applied to you. You spend too many nights with him curled about you, but you aren’t even courting, never mind being anywhere close to marriage.

“No!” You say the word a little too forcefully, and your dancing partner grins. “We're traveling partners, he is not my husband.” You don’t know what you are. You kiss, settle in his arms like it’s where you belong, spend far too many nights with him bucking up into you and swallowing down your moans, but you aren’t courting. He isn’t your gentleman caller. Your lover, yes, your friend, always, but you have no clue how to articulate that to this stranger, and so don't.

“The look on his face has me thinking he might wish to be more than traveling partners, Pretty Lady.” He says teasingly, lips brushing against your own with each word. You are more than that, but the alcohol has you tongue tied. You want to kiss this stranger. Well, that’s not entirely true, you want to be dancing with Jaskier and to drag him down into a kiss, to lean in and close the gaps between your lips, but you'll settle for trying to forget the man behind you who cares far more about music than spending time with you. He seems to have the same thought as you seeing as he kisses you suddenly.

Its soft, sweet, but... felt like nothing. It’s just skin on skin, no different from how his hand on yours feels, and you can’t help but feel disappointed. You’ve only ever kissed one man before, never felt a need or want to either, only ever really wanted a bard who is too tied up in himself currently to kiss you, but every kiss with Jaskier is a world stilling experience, the sort people write songs and poetry about and this feels like absolutely nothing at all. No sudden surge of desire, no need to fling your arms about him, no want for anything at all. It’s deeply disappointing to say the least; like something inside of you is broken, or at least dampened by the alcohol raging through your system. The man kissing you, however, seems to feel something if the quiet moan he lets out is anything to go by, and pulls you closer, but you remain still. You can’t bring yourself to kiss him back, so instead just stand there stock still. Well, stood stock still until you feel a hand firmly grasp your wrist and tug. Hard. The pull sends you stumbling blindly backward, barely able to realise what is going on when you see Jaskier pushing the blond man backwards.

“Get your bloody hands off of her!” He says, words dripping with poison, audible above the music. The people dancing around you stop their movements and stare at what is going on, at the Bard standing in front of you like a guard dog.

Your dancing partner opens his mouth to argue while surging toward Jaskier who clenches his fists into balls, but stops when you quickly say Jaskier's name. This is the closest you have ever seen him to a fight, watching hands that daily cradle a lute clenched to punch someone is so unnatural.

It’s embarrassing, to say the least, to be gawked at by such strangers and turned into a spectacle, and so you reach out to the bard, hand brushing against his back.

“Jask-” You begin, and he turns to you quickly, eyes initially full of anger, but softening slightly when they meet your own; his hand flies out once more and grabs your arm, painfully tight.

“Come on, Little Miss,” He says coldly, walking towards the door to the pub and dragging you along behind him. You drag along behind him, and hear the music start up once more, making you scowl at the prospect of missing out on dancing. There goes the chance at nostalgic bliss you had been enjoying. You’re in the street before you really know what is going on, and Jaskier curses under his breath into the darkness of the evening.

“Shit. Where is the fucking inn...?” He mutters, craning his head about to try and get his barings once more. This isn’t where you recall entering, and assume that you must have left through a side entrance, you’re in some side alley, not the main street. The iron grip on your arm is growing painful and you try to pull it free, Jaskier's grip doesn’t falter. The air is uncomfortably cold, especially against your warm cheeks, and standing like this is doing little to warm you.

He’s trying to work out where you go from here, and you’re wondering the exact same thing; just not about how to get back to the inn. He’s gripping you like he wants to bruise you, wants to leave his mark on you and you don’t know what there is you can say to make his jaw unclench or his hands soften. There are no words. Though you aren’t courting, it’s been quite implicit between the two of you that whatever it is you have, it’s exclusive; he and you are not to be... toying about with other people. You don’t flirt with men hoping for free drinks or cheaper rooms anymore, Jaskier doesn’t bed or even flirt with other women, and between the two of you? You fell at the first hurdle, he has remained loyal to whatever this is, and you let some stranger kiss you. Famous flirt and serial seducer, Jaskier, has not tried to romance anyone but you but with a little ale in you and the high of dancing rushing through you, you let a stranger kiss you; not just kiss you, but kiss you in front of Jaskier. There’s nothing you can say that will change that.

“I’m weak, my love, and I am Wanting.” The lyrics come from your mouth unconsciously. You don’t sing, it’s not something that comes readily to you, but with the ale and discomfort around you, it’s a that you can think to do. Singing is Jaskier's skill, and while drunk you can hardly carry a tune, but you simply need to fill the silence and a song will do. His song too. It feels like an insult, but he turns to you with a smile- all teeth and gums. Like a wolf, a beast, and it’s exciting. Jaskier doesn’t look like a beast, he’s all sweetness and light but given what he’s seen, you suppose it makes sense. You blink slowly at him, and feel him tug you toward him once more, body making contact with his chest and driving all of the air from your lungs.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” You ask, a little more harshly than you expected it to come out. “I was having a good time-”

“A good time? Is that what you call letting a little toad like him near you?” He seethes, towering over you in such a way as to make sure you must look up at him. You feel like a child being chided, not someone talking to a man who had until this night been seen as your equal.

“We were only dancing, Jaskier. I fail to see how he was taking advantage of me by dancing. You and Geralt were hardly going to stop your brooding and be my partner.” You try to argue, but your words come out stilted and unnatural. Arguing with him isn’t natural: Geralt you can argue with until blue in the face, everything said is forgotten within an hour or so, but Jaskier? He remembers everything, pulls it out at a second’s notice and is a wordsmith. He knows how to build up or tear someone down with nothing more than his words, and well at that. Your argument is childish and nonsensical too- acting as if you were only dancing is an obvious lie. You know what happened, he knows what happened. You cannot deny what he's seen with his own eyes and to try is to insult his intelligence.

He pushes you, and the rough brick of the inn presses into your back, rough and painful enough to warrant a noise of complaint, which dies on your tongue when Jaskier's hands bracket you in place. You let out a gasp, from the sharp pain of the bricks and the fact that he's pushed you and is so near. With him so close, you can smell ale on his breath that you hadn’t seen him drink. Is that your breath? The proximity of your lover so close combined with the alcohol has your head spinning in a way that makes you worry you might just sink to your knees. He looks beautiful. He always does, but somehow, now with chestnut locks falling into his eyes and glaring at you in a manner that is just on the right side of feral, he has your knees shaking. You've never been attracted to dangerous men, but in this moment, with him having all but punched a man over you, you understand how so many women can fall over themselves for men like Geralt.

“You weren’t just dancing, were you, Little Miss?” He growls, leaning in until his face is but a centimetre away from your own. “You let him kiss you.”

“He kissed me.” You attempt to correct him before realising you've basically said the exact same thing he did. Jaskier growls at that, and slams his mouth into yours. It hurts a little, his kiss pushing your head back into the hard wall, mouth working harshly against your own and tongue prying its way into your mouth, world’s away from his usual way of kissing- all sweetness and light replaced by something darker. Almost possessive. You try to move your hands up to grip the satin front of his doublet only to have them pinned to the wall at either side of your chest. His lips leave your own to move down to the column of your throat, not quite kissing but more nipping at the skin.

“You let him kiss you.” He says darkly against the skin, warm breath fanning against cold skin to make you shiver.

“I didn’t kiss him-"

“You didn’t stop him either.” The words are almost a snarl, and your heart all but stills in your chest.

“I didn’t know how! And I didn’t kiss him back, Jaskier, we both know I wouldn't...”

“I don’t believe in sharing.” Funny statement. He’s made a name for himself by bedding married women, but the woman he isn’t courting being kissed is somehow a punishable offence? What’s the difference, you ask yourself, while his lips ghost across your neck, how is some man kissing you any different from what he used to do? Teeth graze sensitive skin and you bite back a moan when a thought enters your mind. Those women weren’t his. They were another man's wife, not someone he shares a bed with, spends his days beside. He hasn’t ever needed to concern himself with the aftermath of adultery, save for running from nobles- never been jealous of who looks at a woman that he cares for.

At once, everything falls into place. All night makes so much more sense, how he had tried to keep a grip on your hand as you slipped from his grasp to the bar, never to return as you joined the fold to dance, the constant watching, the scowling at your dancing partner. No sign of his usual animated chatter, no annoying Geralt, just watching. Unending watching. He wasn’t angry about the other musicians. No, no, it was something completely different all together.

“Are. Are you jealous?” You stammer out which only makes the Bard growl and all but bite your neck, sucking on the skin in such a way that has you certain that there will be a bruise there in the morning. A strange concept indeed. Jaskier is all lover and no fighter, so the thought of him bruising your skin even through kisses is something else.

“Am I jealous of some ugly prick?” He raises an eyebrow and slowly raises to his full height once more, his knee slotting between your thighs and grinding oh so slowly against your sex. “No. What I am, is fucking angry. That some bastard is touching My Little Miss, that you would let him-"

“Y-Yours?” You stammer out as the meat oh his thigh rubs against your clitoris.

“I spend my days singing to you.” He nips at your neck. “My evenings holding you.” He laps at the bite with the flat of his tongue. “My nights fucking you.” His hands release your wrists, one moving up to grope your chest while the other moves down to tug your skirts up past your waist and slides into your undergarments to press the tips of his fingers to your sensitive pearl, letting out a ghost of a laugh upon feeling your fluids covering his digits. “I kiss you; I sleep with you, I live and breathe you and use my mouth on you until you can't even breathe. I think that rather makes you mine.”

He says it in a manner that is so matter of fact that it makes your head spin. His. Logically, you know you should be angry at him for being possessive- you aren’t his partner, not his wife, not anything more than a bed partner- but the way he says it has you dripping, walls clenching around nothing at all while his leg grinds against your cunt. His. It leaves no room for argument or discussion, just a claim of ownership that can’t be disputed, not that you would if your traitorous mouth would allow you to form words. You like that, as much as you know you shouldn’t. It makes you sound like a pet or some kept whore, and the affectation in his voice only serves to remind you that he must be some rich cunt and you should slap him for implying he could ever own you, but really, all you want is for him to breach you with his calloused fingers, make your thighs quake. To be owned by him, at least right now, sounds perfect- to be filled with him until you know nothing but his name and how his cock feels within you.

“You're soaking.” He mutters, dragging his nose against your skin. “Is this for me? Or that prick?” He sounds so smug, but there's an undercurrent of anger running under his playful tone.

“Please... Please.” You whine out, biting your bottom lip so hard you taste blood. He chuckles, fingers deftly circling your clit without ever moving further.

“Please what, Little Miss?” He asks, his smile all teeth. “Please...? Please stop touching you? Please let you go and be touched by that disgusting little-"

“Finger me.” You cut him off earnestly, back arching off of the wall and pressing your chest into his. Melitele, it’s sad how wanton you’re acting, begging to be touched in a place where anyone could walk past the two of you. Quiet is needed, discretion to keep prying eyes away, but you don’t care who hears you as long as he stops playing these games and does what you both want him to do.

“Me or-"

“Gods above Jaskier, please. Please, Jaskier.”

He smirks at that, and you force yourself forward to slam your mouth against his. The vibration against your lips lets you know he has more to say; always has more to say, is never silent. Normally, his voice is something you revel in; how it manages to make even the most mundane thing sound melodic, but if kissing him will keep him from talking more about the man inside then you can deal with him not speaking. Thankfully, though, he ceases his circling to instead push what feels like two fingers into you and your eyes water at the sudden movement. It’s not the first time he’s done this but it is the first time he’s done it with such intensity, thrusting his fingers with such force you're almost afraid it might bruise your cunt, the worry is short lived when the pleasure of it hits you all at once. He’s good with his hands, you’re reminded when you notice the neck of his lute bobbing with each movement of his arm. Musicians’ fingers, calloused from the fruits of his art and not labour, play you like he plays his lute and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from making a sound, just to spite him. He loves it when you make noise, said once that it makes him sure that he's actually pleasing you, and it’s normally a sign that you two can afford the privacy to be so- there is no privacy here, in an alley outside of a busy tavern where one loud moan could alert anyone of what the two of you were doing. It’s embarrassing how much the proximity makes you want to moan, and almost definitely why he's doing this here. Wants everyone inside, but mostly the blond man, to know how little it takes for you to fall apart for him. That travelling partner definitely isn’t the right term for what he is to you, even if you don’t know what the right words to describe him are.

“Come now, Little Miss.” He coos quietly, fingers on the hand not currently working you into a stupor tracing the visible edges of your teeth. “Sing for me.” His face shifts to your neck and presses a soft kiss to it, before nipping at it, nipping turning to biting and sucking as soon as it had started. His fingers gather more momentum when a third breeches into you and then crooks into a spot that has you seeing stars. A noise that verges on a scream, masked by a sudden burst of loud music and cheering within the pub, escapes you which makes Jaskier grin and peck your lips before retracting his fingers all together.

“Jaskier-" You hiss, eyes narrowed to slits, but stop when he drags your hand to his trousers and places it on top of his cock. The dark had done enough to conceal it from you, but with it beneath your hand you can feel it, hard and throbbing beneath the fancy fabric. It’s good to know that, jealousy aside, he isn’t angry enough to not want you. Dark lashes brush against his cheekbones and his head slumps to the wall beside your head as soon as you touch him, letting out a wanton little moan. “Oh Jask.” Your voice turns tender and your grip on his member tightens as much as it can through his pants and you work it up and down the shaft, feeling how it twitches with every movement of your wrist. The first time this had ever happened, both of you drunk on ale that tasted like piss and hidden away in some cupboard in an inn, he had chuckled at how gentle your touch had been, going so far as to grab your wrist to guide your movements into something more pleasurable: but now he chokes out a moan of something that sounds like your name, hips stuttering in staccato thrusts to chase your hand. You drop your grip of him after a pump or two more, turning your head to press a gentle kiss to the exposed underside of his jaw. It’s little by means of an apology, but you see his lips turn up in a smile while he heaves out a sigh, hands sliding down to his trousers and unlacing them at a speed that reminds you of his strumming.

“Part your legs.” It’s spoken like a request, but you know it’s a demand and even if it wasn't, there was no way you could deny him. With an awkward sort of shuffle, you push your undergarments down to step out of them best that you can before leaning back against the wall and letting your legs part. The skirts still cover you, but you feel so exposed like this. In the near pitch, you can hardly make out anything save for how his arms move to shove his trousers down. Darkness hides too much, you think, as you can’t even make out how his member even looks in this light, but Melitele you feel it against your thigh when he steps closer to you. A cold hand slides your skirt up once more and Jaskier steps between your legs, holding onto your thigh and guiding it onto his hip.

“Can I-"

“Fuck me, Jaskier, or I shall scream.”

The moan that escapes your lips is louder than you would like, but he chuckles and it’s enough to make your heart swell: lips landing on your and moving gently against them as he thrusts into you. He's big, big enough to make your cunt feel full to bursting point each time he enters you, and you can’t help but make noises when he does.

“There we go, Darling.” He murmurs against your mouth, making you wonder how he can string together a coherent sentence in moments like this. “Gods, you’re so tight.”

Thrusts grow faster and with each movement your moans grow louder even against his lips, you can feel them curl around yours. He tugs back from you after a little while and rests his forehead against the wall, breathing heavily.

“You’re so good to me, Little Miss.” He breathes, grip turning to iron on your thigh. “You’re... perfect. My Little Miss.” He speaks so much that his words feel so much more natural than silence, more natural than anything in the world; bird songs, trickling streams, Jaskier’s words. “You’re beautiful, and he wants you... everyone wants you. I can’t lose you...”

“...You know I want you, don’t you?” You ask, voice cracking. The noise that he makes is somewhere between a moan and a sob, breathing shakily against the skin of your throat. “I can't imagine being without you, Dandelion. You... You have no need to be jealous of some stranger who tries to kiss me.” He whimpers, hips stuttering. He's close, far closer than you, but in this moment, you don't care at all. This isn’t about you. This is about him, and letting him know how much you care. Care in such a way that words alone will never be able to express.

“You want me now.” He sighs, thrusts slowing and hand moving to rub your clit once more. “I know that. But you'll change your mind, Little Miss. Everyone does. I ought to savour the time we have...” He thrusts hard at the word savour, and you see white as his cock head hits that spot deep within that makes you weak. “But I know you’ll soon change your mind.”

Oh. That, that was not what you anticipated at all- you had expected some sort of talk about how he wants you too, but this self-depreciation is new. Jaskier is always so confident and this is alien to you. There isn’t a time you know when he isn’t self-aggrandizing, preening and strutting like some fancy song bird, all too aware of how wonderful he is.

“I'll always want you.” You whisper and his head rises from the wall once more and instead rests his forehead against yours. “You. Just you. Wonderful, amazing you.” You mean it too. He'll probably believe it to be drunken ramblings come morning, but you mean every word. You love him, love him, love him.

You love him. Have for far too long, really, far longer than is right to go without saying. It’s impossible not to love him, he’s a breath of fresh air, a beacon of light in a doublet, a lullaby you didn’t know you had forgotten, nostalgia for a life you've never known before. Jaskier. Wonderful, foolish Jaskier, who sings away each day and talks to you like he cannot imagine speaking to another soul, and does his best to stitch up your wounds while chiding you about how you worry him so. Jaskier, who has carried you on his back when he thinks you're limping behind, and sleeps with his arms wound around you and head burrowed between your shoulder blades. You love Jaskier. The thought overwhelms you, and you have to bite back the words to keep them from coming out. You seek his lips out once more, kissing him chastely.

“I'll always want you too, Little Miss.” He admits, he thrusts hard into that spot and presses on your clit and your vision blurs as you moan so loudly your voice cracks, pleasure overtaking you and ensuring you can’t feel anything but pleasure and the rush of his seed flooding into you.

“I mean it, you know.” You say when the world settles once more, Jaskier pulling himself free of you and tucking himself back into his trousers. “About wanting you, I mean.” I mean it. I shall want you till the day I die, till each star burns out and the nights no longer follow the day, till spring doesn’t come. I want every part, every facet and secret, every regret and mistake and treasured memory- and to make a million more. I want to show you each scar and hear every song. I love you. I have never loved anyone as I love you, I will never again love as I have loved you. You make a poet out of me, steal my senses, my very soul; and I want you to keep them until the day you are no longer mine to keep, and then keep them a thousand days beyond so I cannot feel your absence. I love you. I want you.

“You mean it now, Little Miss.” He says simply, hand taking yours. “Now is enough.” He continues and squeezes your hand.

Now is enough, you think, but forever is all you want.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier smut #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x you

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madnessinwrighting · 4 years

Text

When They Know (You're the One)

(Summary: There's a moment, one distinct moment, when you know you're going to spend the rest of your life with someone. This is the Avengers (plus Loki and Bucky) having those moments.

Reader Insert, inspired by an imagine I have long since lost the link too. Open to writing a part two for the other characters.

Notes: Hey all! This is something I've pretty much sat on for a year, but the convincing of two best friends has pushed me to post it. Basically, it's just a quick bite of little moments with each Avenger, with a reader insert. Yes, it was slightly self indulgent. Hope y'all enjoy.

Read on AO3

Steve

It was how you welcomed him home.

He comes back to your shared floor in the tower after a day of meetings. He was tired, and wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and wait for you to come back from your training with Wanda. He paused when he heard music softly playing. Glenn Miller’s "Moonlight Serenade" drifted around the corner, pulling Steve into the living room. His guard dropped when he saw you curled up on the couch in one of his sweatshirts, book in hand. Regina, your cat, and Doger, his dog, were laying at your feet.

Steve was always captivated by your beauty, but in this moment, with your attention completely held by the book in your hand, thinking no one is watching you, is when he found you the most stunning. Before he could clear his throat to let you know he was here, you glance up at him. A breathtaking smile broke out across your face as you got up to welcome Steve home. It was in that moment, he knew that he would never let you go.

Tony

It was in your careless beauty after an event.The two of you were in his room, lounging on his bed, after the monthly Avengers Gala that Stark Industries held. Every month, the Avengers and Stark Industries held a fundraising Gala to help different organizations in need. It had been your idea; being the Avengers PR person, you had proposed the idea after seeing the growing interest the public had in seeing the “real life superheroes” more, but still being unsure of the Avengers after New York and Sokovia. The galas let the general public mingle with the elite, all while the Avengers mingled with both. (You had started to notice how much the heroes spent less and less time with the elite and more with the general public (especially Steve and Bucky)).

You were wearing one of Tony’s button ups and a pair of pajama shorts. A champagne bottle rested against your leg as you grabbed for another slice of pizza. Tony laughed at you; you were always hungry after the galas. He reached for a slice too. He glanced up at you as you took a bite, just staring for a moment. Your hair was in an imperfect bun, wet strands falling around your face from where you missed a few pieces after your shower. There was a smudge of black under each eye from leftover makeup. As you wiped some sauce from the side of your mouth, Tony could see where your fingernail polish had started to chip. You noticed his staring. “What, playboy? Do I have something on my face?” He laughed at the nickname. Any other time, he would have sassed back. But the whiskey that had been coursing through his veins finally reached his head. Or maybe it was your beauty. Maybe it was a combination of the two that made him say, “No. I just realized I’m going to marry you someday.” You rolled your eyes at him, laughing. You thought he was joking. But Tony knew the truth, and that’s all that mattered; for now.

Clint

It was how you interacted with his kids, and how you could read him.

He had just come back from a mission. He and Nat had gotten banged around, nothing serious, but he knew his ribs were going to be hurting for a few days. He heard laughter the moment he stepped off the elevator to your shared floor. His smile grew when he saw you and his kids in the process of building a blanket fort, you standing carefully on a leaning chair to get the blanket on a high hook. Lila hid her face behind her hands as you made a show of “almost” falling, before doing a flip and landing perfectly. Little Nathaniel clapped his hands as the three cheered. The four of you took a step back to admire your work. The three kids all come in close to you, Nate hugging your leg. Your hand came down to play with his hair. You all talk quietly about what to add. Clint’s heart clinches at the sight. While his and Laura’s split was mutual, and they still cared for one another, it had been hard, for both them and the kids. To see you interact well with the three people that made up a big portion of his world, and them to do the same with you… Clint really couldn’t ask for more.

He caught the repetitive tapping of your fingers on your leg. “Take your time. Love you.”

Natasha

You learned Russian for her.

Any time she came into the room when it was just you and Bucky, the two of you would stop talking and a red hue would cover your cheeks. It didn’t take a spy to know you were hiding something. At first, Nat had a fleeting thought that you might be cheating on her, but she knew you, and knew Buck, and knew that that wasn’t the case. So she let the secret go for the time being; well, that’s a lie. She actually decided to turn it into a game and see if she could find out what it was that you were keeping from her. But sneaking up on the Winter Soldier proved to be difficult, considering most of her skills she had learned were from him.

She thought she had figured out a way to catch you. She was thinking through her plan while making her coffee that morning when your arms snaked around her waist. She smiled as you rested your head on her shoulder, placing a kiss on the bare skin. “Доброе утро Любовь. Спать хорошо?” you asked.

“конечно, ты был следующим -” Natasha froze as she processed what just happened. She spun in your arms to face you. “That’s what you and Barnes have been doing?”

“Yes. Were you going to say because I was next to you?”

“Yes. Why are you learning Russian?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because of you, silly. Your Russian, are you not? And while most of your Russian adventures are in your past and not really you anymore, they and Russia are still a part of you. I love every part of you and want to know every part of you, so I asked Bucky it he would be willing to--”

Natasha cut off the rest of your explanation by placing a kiss on your lips. If there were tears on her checks, neither of you mentioned it.

(Translation: Доброе утро Любовь. Спать хорошо? - Good morning, love. Sleep well?конечно, ты был следующим. - Of course, you were next -- Done with Google. I'm sorry if they are incorrect. Please let me know if they are so I can fix it.)

Thor

You didn’t treat his brother like a villain.

None of the team was thrilled when Thor announced that Loki would be coming to live with him on Earth. But considering the alternative was for Loki to be executed, Thor convinced them to allow Loki to stay in the tower. But of course there were rules. Loki and Thor accepted these; Loki just wanted to leave the place that never felt like a home to him, and felt even less so now, no matter what his mother did to try and help. Thor was excited to see you once again, to be able to be with you once again, but he worried about how you would react to Loki. You had been badly injured when the Chatiri attacked. Thor loved both you and his brother; he wanted, no, needed you two to get along.

When the time came for Loki to move in, all the Avengers were waiting in the teleportation room. The alarm alerted you to the brothers incoming arrival. You all shielded your eyes as the Bifrost opened. The blinding light cleared, leaving the polar opposite sons of Odin in its place. Everyone stayed still for a moment. You rolled your eyes at all of them before throwing yourself at Thor. He caught you with a laugh, spinning you around.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should have chosen execution.”

You sensed the movement of the team tensing and gripping their weapons. Placing a kiss on Thor’s cheek, you walked over to Loki. You knew he recognized you from when he fought against you during the Chatiri invasion; you also knew it wasn’t his fault. Hardly any of the New York Attack was Loki’s fault, directly. Knowing that, you placed your hands over both of the bracelets on his wrist, said a small incantation, and melted them away. You felt and saw Loki’s magic return to him. His eyes were swirling with questions. All you said to him was, “No one, not a single being, deserve to be cut off from something that makes them whole.”

Thor had tears in his eyes. He had been trying to convince others that his brother wasn’t the enemy, and here was the woman that he loved, showing that she believed that too.

Bruce

You loved him despite his inner demon.

Bruce Banner had felt ever since his… accident, that he was very much two different people. You once joked he was a modern day Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Tony thought it was hysterical, Bruce not so much). Despite his green friend always being just under Bruce’s skin, you never once feared him. The Hulk and Bruce were one person, and that was something you accepted very early on; Bruce knew he loved you then.

But the moment he knew he would spend forever with you was when you didn’t shy away from his true inner demon. Not the green one, but the one that was very human. The self doubt that he was nothing and only ever became something because of a gamma radiation explosion. The anxiety that he would one day lose control and destroy everything that he held dear. The depression that came from every so-called mistake he thought he had made in his scientific career. The depression that manifests in self isolation so no other mistake could be made, or at least no one was there to be hurt when they were made. He was certain that these monsters would be the ones to push you away from him; they would be the ones that would make you run away screaming.

You never once left his side, though. You calmed the anxiety attacks; you silenced the dark thoughts in his mind. You were his voice in every moment that he needed you. You were his protector, and he would do everything in his power to keep you.

Loki

You saw through the illusion.

Loki moved into the tower not long after everything that happened with the Battle of Sokovia, which was when you joined the team. He was brought to Earth to atone for his sins; Odin thought it poetic to banish his son to the place where he caused destruction.

Besides Bucky (shared trauma in brainwashing and all), you were the first one to accept Loki as he was. A connection flowed easily between you, bonding over books and similar battle styles; you both favored knives and daggers. One night, you two were in the living room of the comunal floor. Loki and you had only been dating for a few months, but your friendship led to a strong bond already. You were reading; Loki had been too, though he was now asleep, head resting in your lap. Your hand stilled in his hair as he started to fidget. Twitching and moaning, you recognized the signs of his nightmares immediately. Your gentle coasting to awake still startled him. A moment on the couch, the next on the floor staring into red eyes surrounded by a blue tinged face. As quickly as it was there, Loki was his blue-eyed, pale skinned self, helping you from the ground.

“Apologies, my love. I do not know what came over me.” He ran his hands through his hair.

You rolled your eyes. “Bullshit. Are you okay?” You reached out for him.

He smiled softly before turning away from you. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, love.”

“Loki, you are not--”

“I said I’m fine, Y/N,” he interrupted. He started to walk away.

“Wha- No, wait.” He didn’t stop. “Loki of Asgard, you stop right now and look at me, damnit!” He stopped, but didn’t turn. “Loki. Please. You can pretend with the team, with your brother even. But don’t lie to me. You’re not fine, not have you been for a long time. Look at me.” While you spoke, you walked closed to him. You reached out to place a hand on the back of his shoulder.

He caught your wrist, half turning to look at you. “You see through the illusions.”

It wasn’t a question. You still answered. “Yes, I do.” You used your captured hand to turn his face to you. “You may be the God of Mischief, but your lies have never worked on me.” You whipped a tear from his cheek.

He’d never admit it to you, but his heart clenched and he was at a momentary loss for words. All he could think to say, as he pulled you into his arms, was, “I know not how I got so fortunate to have you in my life, but I thank whoever it was that allowed it.” You just hugged him tighter.

Bucky

It was how you celebrated his 37th birthday.

Bucky had a doopy smile on his face as he read one of the texts from you; he and Steve were disembarking from one of Stark’s planes. Bucky brought his head up at the sound of laughter. “What, punk?” Bucky shoved Steve’s shoulder.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Nothing. Tell y/n hi from me, jerk.”

Bucky shot back that he would as he headed straight to the garage.

When he did get home, a wonderful aruma tickled his nose while Janet Blair’s “You’d be so Nice to Come Home To” floated to his ears. Dropping his bag by the door, he rounded the island. All of his weariness from the mission vanished once he saw you. Your hair was pinned up and you wore a y/f/c swing dress. He caught the reflection of your makeup; simple, with eyeliner your top lids, just a kiss of it on the lower, massacre gracing your lashes, and a red perfetingly complementing your skin coating your lips. When you faced Bucky, he had to grip the island slightly for support. You looked just like the dames he knew growing up. But unlike all of them, you were his, and you took his breath away.

“Buck! I didn’t hear you come in,” you exclaimed.

He reached out to you; you willingly stepped into his arms. Bucky placed a kiss on your lips, humming as he pulled away. “You look stunning, doll. What’s the occasion?” He started swaying you to the music.

You laughed. “You are, you dork. Or did you forget you turned a whole century while you are on this mission?”

“Ouch, doll. You really know how to make a man feel loved. I’m only 37,” he tried reasoning as he dipped you.

“Is that so? Then why does your birth certificate say you were born in 1917?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “Fine, happy 37th birthday, even though you were born 100 years ago. Do you want some cake? I made this one special.” You began biting the side of your lip.

“Sure, babe. I’d love some.” Bucky gave you once last peck before letting you go.

You went to the cake, cutting two slices. Bucky saw you fidget slightly as you set them pieces down on the island. Not sure as to why you’d be so nervous (you’d made him chocolate cake before, it was his favorite), he picked up his fork and took a big bite. The explosion of flavor in his mouth caused him to pause for a moment before he kept chewing. Unsure if his senses were playing tricks on him, he took another small bite. Nope, that tasted exactly like-- “Is this my mother’s recipe?” Disbelief clouded his voice. You nodded your head. “And her icing?” You nodded again.

“It wasn’t easy to replicate, or even find the recipe, but this birthday is a big deal so I thought--” you were cut off by Bucky pulling you to him and crashing his lips to yours. You could taste the chocolate on his lips.

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bisexualbuck · 4 years

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pauline my love!!! i'm in the mood for angsty buck x eddie, so i'll send you some numbers and see if any of them inspire you; 2, 31 & 92 😌

“You can’t keep ignoring this.” - Read on AO3

Buck is very fond of denial.

What a neat trick it is! He has a problem, then he won’t think about it until it either goes away on its own (it rarely does) or it comes back to bite him in the ass (it usually does).

Either way, denial is great.

Take for example his non-platonic, very romantic feelings for his best friend.

Buck could confess. He could also try to move on from this unrequited situation.

Instead of doing either of these things, he buries his head in the sand and pretends he has no problem breathing at all. No, he has no heavy weight sitting on his chest at all times, and maybe if he repeats if enough it will become true.

So what if he still overthinks every interaction he has with Eddie? That’s his business, no matter what his sister may think.

“You can’t keep ignoring this,” she says – again.

She says it a lot. His answer is pretty much always the same.

“Actually, I can. And I think I will. This is working great for me so far. It’s like Schrödinger’s confession, if I don’t say anything, Eddie can’t reject me.”

Maddie rolls her eyes with such force Buck expects them to fly out. Everyone tells him he is dramatic but if he is, it’s only because he grew up raised by one Maddie Buckley.

He is grateful for her being eight month pregnant, otherwise she would have already dragged him to Eddie and force him to confess.

Unaware that he is being bullied, the extended family of the 118 is talking and laughing excitedly in the other room. He longs to join them so that he can go back to ignoring his feelings.

“Don’t be daft,” she tells him.

“Eddie loves you.” “Yeah, he does – as a friend.” She goes to protest again but he presses on before she can. “Look, Maddie, I see what you’re trying to do and I know you worry about me but the truth is, I can’t risk this. Eddie and Christopher mean too much to me and I can’t risk losing them because of my big dumb messy feelings.”

Her face goes from annoyed to sad, almost pitiful.

“So, no. If Eddie feels the same way, he has to make the first move because I can’t.”

She sighs and for a moment, they bask in this tired silence.

Then, she says, “Your feelings aren’t dumb.”

Buck can’t help but snort at this and she smiles too though it’s shadowed by all that which they never mention.

They know that they did not grow up as children should, that their parents never showed them how to love and be loved and that both of them have searched for belonging and love in the wrong places. Maybe, if they had been taught the definition of love, Buck would have had a braver heart.

Guilt rears its head at seeing his sister’s dimmed smile knowing that he is the cause of it, and so he hurries to change the subject – anything to make her laugh freely again.

Soon, he forgets about this discussion. It’s one he has had many times with Maddie, and with Hen too, and with Bobby, awkwardly too, that one time.

He knows people think Eddie might love him back the way Buck wants to, but, if so, why isn’t he doing anything about it?

Eddie isn’t the one with everything to lose.

It’s not until three days later that Buck is reminded of the conversation.

Eddie and him are painting Christopher’s room as a surprise for his birthday.

It was actually Buck’s idea but Eddie loved it and the two of them spent several hours deciding on a new color scheme for the room.

Well, in truth, the whole team got involved and it was of course Hen’s pick that got chosen, at Chim’s good-natured protest, which made Buck very happy because Chim refused to listen to Buck’s input about his nephew’s room.

“I need to tell you something,” Eddie blurts out, stilling mid-movement in his painting.

Buck almost tells him to finish it or it’ll leave a trace but the seriousness on his best friend’s stop him.

“Okay?” And no, Buck isn’t worried all of the sudden. At all. “What is it? Wait, are you okay? Is Chris okay?”

“Yes. We’re fine. I just – listen, I love you.”

Buck beams though his heart clenches in yearning – Eddie doesn’t mean it like that.

“Aw, I love you too, man.”

Eddie shakes his head. He steps down from the stool he was perched on. Absentmindedly, Buck mourns the trace that will be left on the wall. This is the third coat, they won’t have enough paint to do a fourth one.

Maybe they can put a picture to hide it later on?

“No, Buck,” Eddie protests. “I love you. As in, I’m in love with you.”

Buck blinks. And then, for good measure, he blinks once more but the scene is still the same – Eddie, earnest, looking at him with soft, imploring eyes.

“You’re – what?” Buck can’t process this.

Is he in a coma and no one has had the decency to tell him? Has he been gravely injured on the job and this is is mind’s conjured wishful scenario right before he dies?

“I’m in love with you, Buck,” Eddie repeats breathlessly. “I am. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but I never could bring myself to.”

“What changed?” he asks almost despite himself.

He can’t believe this is truly happening. It all feels so much like a dream that he is half expecting to wake up any minute now in his bed with his heart crushed.

“I couldn’t keep ignoring this.”

Something stirs in Buck’s memory that he can’t quite place but he is too busy staring with adoration at the love of his life to focus on it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies with a soft smile. “It was all so easy to live in denial because, if I never told you, I was safe. Like Schrödinger’s confession.”

Buck stills. The memory comes back to him and it all clicks.

His conversation with Maddie at the 118’s monthly barbecue.

“You heard?”

Eddie shrugs, sheepish. “In my defense, you were speaking really loud and I was just in the other room.”

“I – I don’t know what to say.”

“Maybe say you love me too? Just so that I know you weren’t joking around with Maddie.”

That’s when it hits him. Eddie is as nervous as Buck has always felt when thinking about confessing. He looks like a man who is scared he is about to lose everything.

“I love you,” he cries out hurriedly. “Of course I love you but you – you? Like, you have feelings for me? Romantic ones?”

Eddie laughs with such relief that Buck can’t help but laugh too.

“How could I not fall in love with you, Evan Buckley? You’re everything.”

And when they kiss, Buck can finally breathe again.

Maybe denial isn’t all that he’s made it out to be.

Being free and in love has its perks too.

#911 fic #911 #buddie fic #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #maddie buckley #my writing #thank you so much for the prompt ria!!#i hope you will like this!!#ily #and also i hope it shows up in the tags too because i put a link in there #ugh anyway #long post #carlosreyes #EDIT: fuck you asked for angst and i don't know how to read #so here have this fluffy dumb fic instead??#i'm so sorry

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nopperabounet · 4 years

Text

Let’s all enjoy some ISSAY today~ as a treat!

I thought it would be nice to show how very loved Sakurai is today on his birthday~! And what better way than sharing ISSAY’s kind words, he just . . . glows with love for Sakurai and it’s beautiful to read.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

音楽と人- PHY vol.15 February 2020 Special Talk with ISSAY (Der Zibet) Parade III ~ Respective Tracks of BUCK-TICK~ Text by Kanemitsu Hirofumi Translation by Lola

In my humble opinion, the song you did for the tribute album felt like it was made for you and Der Zibet didn't it? Even Sakurai-san said so, he told me, "'Ai no Souretsu' is perfect for ISSAY-san . . . . . ."

I am so pleased to hear that. When I was asked to participate in the tribute, my immediate response was, "Of course I will do it!" but then I became incredibly anxious about it you know.

Due to song choice?

Yes. Because when I was ready to try to select a song there is just such a vast amount to choose from as you would expect from a band that has been active constantly for the past 30 years . . . . . .

True *smiles*.

I spent several days listening to different songs but because they have so many good ones I ended up thinking, "Oh, perhaps I will do this one. But then again, this one is also good. . . . . . .ok, I'm lost." So I texted Atsushi-kun about it *smiles*.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

"I'm having a hard time," I wrote *smiles*. And then I get, "You could do things in this way, yes, but you could also choose by another means."

That was his advice?!

It was but I ended up ignoring it *smiles*.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Although at first, I did think I would give up on choosing a song in this way. Since there is such a great number of songs to select from, I decided to discuss with HIKARU (Yoshida Hikaru/Guitar) which ones might be interesting from the band's perspective. When it came to selecting songs in this way there were only two or three that I thought I would like to sing with Der Zibet even though there were a number of others that I wanted to try to sing myself without the band.

And which songs were those?

That's private!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

I could not even tell Atsushi-kun *smiles*. Anyway, so I sent those few songs to HIKARU and asked him which one he thought would be best, and he told me. "Ai no Souretsu" was in first place. In truth, I also thought it would be really interesting to try this song with Der Zibet because it was a song I wanted to try to sing, and so that is how it got chosen. It would seem as though my thoughts and HIKARU's were on the same wavelength.

And what was it that you were thinking, specifically?

I was thinking about the image the music of "Ai no Souretsu" possesses. The lyrics contribute to this as well, this feeling of loneliness, and isolation. In addition to that there is also a romanticism to both. This is something that we strive to portray through our perspective as well. And I guess it was about three years ago right? When I saw them perform this song in Budoukan, it left a deep impression on me, it's a memory that stayed with me. I thought that if we did this song, surely we could do so in a way that would express BUCK-TICK's views without fundamentally changing them while also being able to express Der Zibet's sound.

What did you think of "Ai no Souretsu" the first time you heard it?

It was absolutely Atsushi-kun's style. I mean it has this immense feeling of . . . . . .becoming lost along your way, and it calls to mind an empty landscape. What he depicted in his world is also incredibly close to my own perspective as well. While he and I might cope with this feeling of solitude differently, it is something I understand all too well.

And how do you cope with that ISSAY-san?

Rather than coping, it's more that it is a basic part of who I am. So rather than confronting it, I acknowledge that this has always been a part of who I am so there's nothing to really be coping with. It is just something that is there.

You don't think Sakurai-san feels the same?

Well, I think he might. Otherwise, he could not do what he does. It's just that with him, when he sees this part of himself, his heart wavers about it, and it's like he needs to change it, and I feel as though this pattern of his differs from my own.

In what way?

The thing about Atsushi-kun is . . . . . .and this is just my impression but, for instance when I first saw him I was utterly astonished by him, by that feeling of being lost and of having a wavering heart. And I could not help but wonder what was it that caused his heart to be so? What is it that he keeps searching for with all of his heart? That is the gap between us that fascinates me.

I see. Even though it's sad, you can't help but wonder what the sadness is about, and what the loneliness is about as well, and you end up worrying about it until the very end.

Yes. And when it comes to his heart, I feel that he is a perpetual question mark.

A question mark?

Yeah. May I say that? *smiles*

I am asking you to explain *smiles*.

Various people have varying interpretations of him, and I realize that is not quite an answer but, the thing about being in doubt of his feelings is that of course you cannot say with certainty what it is not without a doubt, and it is this constant vacillation that makes me question why in the world he is like that, and that is why to me he is a question mark.

Is this why you feel you are opposites?

I am someone who by nature my songs are a performance, but in his case, he is the opposite because he is being sincere. That is the slight difference between us but as far as I am concerned because it is something I understand well, it is easy for me to get into it.

I see.

But you know for a number of years now, his strength has felt incredible to me.

His strength?

I could feel his sheer strength to stand there on his two legs, that took guts.

How did you find the sound side of things with this song?

We finally finished the track down but all in all, everything went rather smoothly. As I was just saying before, I wanted to take care to have that romanticism along with the solitude and loneliness, but I was aware that it could end up having a very bleak sound. But I think that's where HIKARU's sense made a difference so that it came out rather well didn't it?

It did.

We have songs with similar outlooks right so because of that we had the same approach but while being aware that this is also a cover. I kept wondering what to do about that, and that's when HIKARU had the idea to have it be a tango . . . . . .even though the song isn't a tango at all *smiles*. I think it really suited the song. It's like you're in a different era. Within that sort of sound I could really allow myself to sing freely *smiles*.

You sang freely? *smiles*

Yes. Because this time the image was clear in my mind when it came to singing so I figured I would do so honestly. Without anything extra or gimmicky, or any weird vibrato either *smiles*. Once I knew this is what I wanted to do, I thought I could stand up and sing it frankly.

What did the members think of it?

We talked about it the other day at the after party for the Yoyogi show. I got quite drunk you know but *smiles*, I do remember Atsushi-kun complimenting me on it like, "It was so good." He also asked me, "So . . . . . .you didn't find this song difficult to sing did you?" *smiles* And when I told him, "I did, actually." He said, "Of course, it is a very difficult song after all."

Ha ha ha ha ha.

You know even our way of writing lyrics is different. When it came to writing this song, Atsushi-kun is very symbolic in his imagery and he uses these impactful words and phrases in the refrain. I do not really have that ability with my writing, and as a singer, these sorts of lyrics are incredibly difficult for me you know. I feel that is what makes him incredible as a vocalist. So you know . . . . . . I absolutely couldn't mess up! *smiles*

But you did make it work as a Der Zibet song, ISSAY-san.

If that is what you think, then I am happy. Because it's a song that I really love I think I'd like to try singing it during my own lives as well. No matter how the arrangement is, I would love it if one day I could sing it with Atsushi-kun, as a vocalist that would make me incredibly happy.

I would absolutely want to hear that. While it's true that your outlooks are very similar, you also filled the song with incredible love.

It is a tribute so would it not be terrible if I did it any other way? It would ruin the whole essence of it from the start. After all it is my very love for the piece and for them as musicians that made me unable to do it any other way, and I think that is what made it so enthralling. We may not be the same as people but, I think it's important to accept that about each other, and our differences in how we do things is something that I thought about a lot as a vocalist.

You created a wonderful tribute.

Because I sang with love for BUCK-TICK as a band, and with love for Atsushi-kun *smiles*.

#buck tick #buck-tick #ISSAY #Der Zibet

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