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notjustjavierpena · 1 day ago

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Ok so someone said Pedro is so husband in Gladiator 2 and I was wondering if you would possibly do a Marcus and pregnant!wife fic?! Please 🤍

Restless

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A/N: This was so fun to write and I hope you like it! Just fyi, this is not a part of my series Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.

Summary: Being heavily pregnant makes it hard to sleep.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Pregnant reader, kisses, a general devoted to his wife

Word count: 1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60543115

Restless

Since entering the final stages of carrying your child, nights in bed have been restless. You lay awake most of the time, drifting off on your side only to wake up not long after with a foot pressing against your ribs. It is a strange paradox how something so unpleasant can offer you comfort at the same time, serving as a reminder that your baby is healthy and strong. You’ll take watching the sunrise each morning if it means knowing that they are well, even if it means exhaustion from the lack of rest.

Tonight is no different. You are yet again caught in the realm of the awake, carefully turning over from side to side as you beg God Somnus to show you mercy and grant you some sleep. However, just as your eyes start to flutter closed, you are startled awake by another swift kick to your insides.

“You are as restless as your father,” you speak quietly and with affection to the life within your belly, pressing your hand over the spot. You glance at Marcus as you say it, already aware of how he is stirring from his slumber because the littlest of things can rouse him. After all, he is a light sleeper, old habits making him as vigilant in bed with you as he is on the battlefield.

“Another night on slumber’s battlefield?” Marcus asks while sleep still clings to him. His voice is rough, rumbling through his chest as he speaks.

You nod with a sigh, reaching for your husband’s hand to guide it to rest on your belly. His voice joining yours has woken up the baby even more, and they seem even more enthusiastic in announcing their presence to their parents, “It seems like your child is preparing for a campaign of their own. Feel.”

“My child?” He asks with a fond smile, another jab at his palm making him gently trace patterns across your belly.

“During nights like these, they’re your child,” you tease lightheartedly and earn a gentle smile, a twinkle in his eyes.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he chuckles quietly but it is interrupted by another spirited kick. He sucks in a breath, talking quietly as if mostly to himself, “Every time I do this… I still can’t believe—“

“Neither can I,” you say dreamily and rest your own hand on top of his. You guide his palm over the curve of your swollen belly, “But they’re really in there. Feel this. Here’s their back and this… this must be the foot that’s keeping me from sleeping.”

Marcus’ calloused palm is warm as it skims across your stomach, feeling its way around to picture the growing bundle inside of you. His eyes are filled with uninhibited wonder, a joy that seems to be more frequent on his face after Goddess Juno granted you this blessing so soon after your union. He shifts on the bed to bend down and kiss where he has just felt a particularly enthusiastic kick.

“Listen to me, little one,” he murmurs softly against your skin, “Your beautiful mother is doing all the work bringing you into the world and into my arms. The least you could do is grant her some rest.”

“I don’t think it’s going to happen. I think they’ve inherited some of your rebellion,” you begin but Marcus looks at your face with feigned outrage. He crawls up to hover over you.

“Their rebellious spirit is directly from you,” he argues with a charming smile, palms flat against the bed on either side of you. In return, you reach up to cup his face and drag him down for a sweet kiss. He smells like olive oil and metal from his armor, proof of him being in the sun all day during today’s training session. He should be exhausted but he kisses you like he isn’t.

“Then you should know how to tame them just like you tamed me, General,” you bite back with a mischievous expression, a high-pitched giggle interrupting your attempt at an attitude because Marcus maneuvers you onto your side again, this time facing away from him. He crawls up behind you, scooping his arm underneath you so he can cradle your full belly with both hands.

“Close your eyes,” he tells you, splaying his hands on you until the warmth of his touch starts to calm everything in your body and mind, “Focus on your breathing. In and out. Slowly like the tide.”

You can feel the gentle change in the room, both Marcus and the baby falling into sync with you as sleep comes knocking for all three of you. He talks in a quiet whisper even on the verge of slumber, his chest rising and falling against your back while your belly mirrors it, “That’s it. You’re safe, my love. My heart, my strength, my guiding light.”

“Tell me about our baby,” you murmur softly, eyelids growing heavy until you capitulate and close them.

“Our baby,” he begins, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “Will be as beautiful as their mother. When they laugh it’ll be with your laugh, and when they smile, everyone will think of you in an instant. Perhaps, they will be granted the courage of Mars. Or perhaps the wisdom of Minerva, a real strategist.”

His hands continue their slow and gentle pattern over your stomach, lulling you even closer to the edge of sleep. You relax further into his embrace, letting his words wash over you as he continues, “And as for me, I hope they will inherit my heart. I hope to pass on my sense of duty and purpose. They’ll be honorable, stand firm, and protect the ones they love.”

“Marcus,” you say without knowing why.

“They will be loved,” he adds as if it is the most true of all, his forehead resting against the back of your head, “Loved beyond comparison, beyond comprehension. By us and even the Gods themselves, and they will never doubt this. They will find it to be as certain as Sol and Nox ensuring each day and night.”

“I like that,” you smile sleepily, barely awake anymore.

“Me too,” you hear him say just before sleep finally claims you, his voice a calming echo that tells you he’s telling the truth.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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slytherinslut0 · 1 day ago

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quiet reckoning. chapter one

summary: mattheo comes to visit. it’s strange, being twenty five and still seeing your childhood in his eyes.

warnings: just a ton of fucking angst. complicated, self destructive mattheo who’s finally coming to terms with how he pushed you away when you were younger simply because he couldn’t stand being second to tom in your eyes. the acceptance doesn’t make it hurt any less. get the tissues. cry with me please.

masterlist & other chapters.

Life these days holds a strange, silent kind of peace, interrupted only by the faint sound of water rushing over stone—the creek that runs quick along the forest edge. In your early summer afternoons, the trees form a leafy wall of emerald and ochre, and they sway with the breeze that brushes the hair back from your cheeks.

You sit cross-legged in the dirt, hands buried in soil as you pull vegetables out of your garden in prep for the approaching cold months. You love how earth has its own signature scent: damp, fertile, alive. Somehow it makes you think of Tom—his manor, with its towering windows overlooking manicured grounds, its own gardens sprawling wide. His manor with its grand, sweeping staircases, polished black floors.

Everything was pristine, almost oppressively so. Even the walls seemed haughty, disdainful of the cobwebs that clung to the corners.

Tom had never let you stay long enough to tend to those.

But his gardens—those had their own softness, a quiet beauty that only fully revealed itself after dusk when the moonlight cast everything in silver. I loved you there, you reminisce, and the ache has a name in memory—longing. I wish I could have loved you there longer.

And now you're here, a few years after Tom told you never to come back to him—here where the ache feels smaller, further away. Here where there’s no temptation, where the air smells of earth and moss and freedom, and the silence holds its own kind of comfort. Mattheo visits sometimes, wandering into the quiet when your absence grows too thick, when too many of his owls have gone unanswered.

"He'll visit soon." He always tells you. You start to hate how much he lies to you.

"Don't pretend," you said once, and his mouth stretched into a thin, humourless smile.

"Alright," he replied. "I won't."

So now, when he comes to visit, he doesn't say it—he just sits next to you. He doesn't talk much. Neither do you. Life here is quiet—few neighbours, even fewer visitors. A woman brings you pastries from time to time and the town grocer knows your name, but most days you pass unbothered. You tend the garden when the days are warm, work on the cottage when it's cold.

When it's raining you read books and pretend they're not the same kind Tom used to keep.

On a day in early October, Mattheo sits next to you on the porch and you hate that you notice how he doesn't look at you the same way Tom did. It's something lighter, something less cloying. Sometimes you think of how unfair it is that he can taunt you silently like this—how he can remind you of the chocolate streaks in Tom's inky hair, the depth in his dark eyes. How he can remind you that he holds all the same features as his brother, just without the weight.

As the sun sinks slowly through the trees, casting pink and orange across the sky, you turn your face to the creek, watching the water ripple over stones and rocks, and you think of how young you loved them—the way your love grew different when you weren't looking.

Mattheo was chaos, always had been. I could have helped him find himself. But that thought feels hollow, and it's always followed by another. If he would have let me.

"It's strange to think that this is your life." Mattheo speaks after a while of not. He lights a cigarette, and you reach for it when he passes it to you. "You could have done anything."

You inhale the smoke and close your eyes—thinking of how cigarettes taste like fire and ash and the last time Tom had taken your hand.

"Maybe this is all I ever wanted to be." You reply, spinning the cigarette between your fingers. "At peace."

He glances at you in the fading light—the way the sunset casts shadows in the hollows of your cheeks, makes the gold of your earrings look darker against your hair.

He frowns. "You don't look at peace."

No, you think, taking another drag. I never really have.

You pass the cigarette back to him, watching the smoke drift in the breeze. He doesn't say anything else, so you don't either.

Instead, you watch the dark start to close in, the sky turn into an endless stretch of indigo, stars winking to life somewhere above the trees. The fireflies come out eventually, when the night is quiet and heavy and the world turns a little sleepy. They flutter around in the trees and grass like faeries—like stars that've made their home on the ground—and Mattheo watches them with a furrow in his brow.

You wonder what he's thinking, then think better of it at the bitter twist of his mouth. He always thought they'd burn.

"Why do you still come here?" You question. He turns to you, and when his eyes meet yours that's when you realize you'd verbalized the thought. "To sit with me."

Mattheo shakes his head. "I'll need another smoke to answer that."

So he pulls out another cigarette and lights it. The first inhale is long, and the exhale makes you blink. You look away and pretend like his response doesn't make your stomach twist.

The stream moves a little darker in the moonlight and the pine trees shiver with a gentle breeze that smells like soil. You feel the comfort in it—in knowing that all of this has been here longer than you ever have, and that it'll be here long after you're gone.

Perhaps that's precisely what you chased. A home in something steady.

"I come to remind myself you're okay." He says after a long silence, staring at his hands. "Sometimes it feels like you're dead."

You blink again. He's more perceptive than you remember.

"I'm still here," you remind him, but he laughs without humour in it.

"Sure, you're there," he replies, before another pause. "But you're not really living."

He says the words casually, like they're a fact. You think they're meant to hurt. He's right—it's a thought that comes quietly, the way most unwanted thoughts do. You over look at the river, the fireflies, the dirt under your fingernails—you try to feel the chill in the October breeze, the soft moss under your feet. You try to be alive.

"Why do you think that?" You ask even when you know the answer.

He takes another drag of his cigarette, and then exhales—casting his hair grey when the smoke drifts over his face.

He looks older here, when the night stretches over him. It reminds you how much has changed.

"Sometimes I think you're here to punish yourself." He says, passing you the cigarette again. "You say you come here for peace, but this isn't peace like a person should have. It's just an absence. Silence, and isolation, and nothing else." You glance down at his hand resting on his knee beside you, shadows deepening in the lines of his palm. He watches you. "I wish you'd stop hating yourself for what he's become."

A lump forms in your throat—you remember Tom as a boy, the way he'd hold magic in his palms and make lights dance just to make you laugh. You remember the way he once looked at you, quietly and gently in a way that made you feel safe within crumbling walls offering cold stone decorum. You remember one of the last times at Hogwarts, once things took a turn, when he held more than just magic in his palms—when the lights danced only to burn you instead of make you laugh.

You wonder what it says about you, that you loved him in both.

"I don't hate myself, Matt." You mutter, more conviction than truth. "If I'm punishing myself at all, it's for giving him something to hurt."

He doesn't say anything for a while, so you think briefly that his silence is agreement. You and him both know that there is a lot to hurt about, when it comes to Tom.

"You didn't give him anything." He rebuttals with certainty. "He was who he was before you even knew his name."

It's easy to forget that sometimes, the way he had been all sharp edges even when you'd first met. The way he'd pulled you and his brother through crumbling, damp, narrow hallways with something far too assured for a six year old. Something that made you want to follow him forever—something that whispered; I'll never let anything hurt you.

You exhale a plume of smoke. The fireflies look like falling stars when you close your eyes.

"Sometimes, I think I made him human." You say, and immediately wish you didn't. It's a weird thought, but one that comes unbidden. "Others, I think I made him evil."

It tastes like acid the moment you say it aloud. I made him evil. You think back to all those nights in the quiet, the way you taught him how to confide in you, the way he looked at you as if you held some answer he couldn't find on his own. You remember the secrets he shared, the way he softened when no one else could see. You remember how long it took him to get there.

But you remember the darker moments, too—moments when you didn't pull away, even when you should have. Moments you whispered reassurances instead of warnings, when you offered comfort instead of caution. Maybe, in those silences, you fed a need that shouldn't have been nourished, let him believe his ambitions weren't dangerous, only misunderstood.

You wonder if, in being the one person who never condemned him, you gave him permission to be what he became.

"And me?" Mattheo turns to you. You glance at him, the hard line of his mouth and his eyes that look more black than brown in the night— "did you make me evil too?"

You're both quiet for a moment, the only sound is the stream, the only motion is the flutter of the fireflies.

"I don't believe I made you anything." You say finally, letting him take the cigarette back from you. "I suppose you only became who you wanted to be."

You think, quietly, that it's a kinder fate than the rest.

He huffs a laugh. "So you think I wanted to be an asshole."

He's joking, you think. Or he's bitter again, resentful. You're sure he wanted to be whatever Tom would accept him as—though you'd never say those words out loud.

"I think you wanted to be loved." Is what you settle on, and the words tear your throat apart as you speak them. "Just like I did."

He hums, noncommittally, and lights a third cigarette.

You wonder why you still know that he's bitter even when he's not saying the words—why you still know that he only hums that way when something hurts, or when it's a truth he can't bring himself to admit.

"You found it now, haven't you?" You fill his silence with another sentence you wish you didn't say. "You're engaged."

You watch the embers from the cigarette tip light up the hollows of his cheeks, the way it burns his eyes gold as he takes a drag on it.

"Yeah," he nods into the night. "I'm engaged."

Something selfish in you aches at that.

"Then why do you come here and look at me like you're lonely?" You try to ask it casually, but you don't think you manage it. You see him tense when he realizes how well you still read him. "What is it you're missing, Matt?"

"I don't know." He looks at you in the dark, his expression lost in the shadows of his hair. "Sometimes I think it's you."

It's an answer like a knife, because you've known all along that he feels the same way you do—that the loneliness stays and the regret never really dissipates—that the 'what-ifs' linger long after they shouldn't.

"I'm not your girl." You remind him.

It sounds empty when you say it, but he made it clear when you were younger that he wanted it this way.

"You never were."

He looks away after that, to the stream, and you wonder if it has ever felt hollow like this.

All the lights seem very small suddenly, the moon, the stars—you're not sure where his vulnerability is coming from, all these years in passing. You assume it’s the old saying—absence makes the heart grow fonder.

"But you wanted me to be." It's more of a question.

"For a time, when we were kids." He gives you honesty that surprises you. "Sometimes I think I still do."

Why?—you want to ask, suddenly, desperately—and wonder at the cruelty of the thought. Asking that would be the worst kind of question. Why do you want me?

You think you know all the answers already. They sit bitter at the back of your throat.

"So that's why you come here." You say instead, shivering with the wind that brushes over you. "To remind yourself of all the reasons you still feel empty."

There's a dark sort of humour to the sound he lets out, one that makes your chest ache. He turns to you again, and his hands shake when he lifts the cigarette.

"It's not you that makes me feel empty, princess." He whispers. "It's the absence of you."

You look at him, then—really look. There's something strange about being twenty five and still seeing your childhood in his eyes. Despite the nickname, he’s not joking. It’s the kind of confession that tastes like a fist, like a punch that breaks bones.

I know, you think. I wish it could have been different for us.

"You need to stop coming here." There's no spine in those words. They're putty between you. "Just like Tom told me to stop, I'm now telling you."

He's quiet, watching you as the embers of the cigarette flicker over his fingers.

"I'll stop," he pauses, and you see the pain in his throat as he swallows. "When he finally comes to you."

That, you think, will probably never happen.

"So you'll come here forever." You say, and his mouth twists in a silent, bitter smile.

"I guess I will."

You don't have a response to that. It's not a choice he makes so much as it is his reality, and you, of all people, could never fault him for that.

So instead of words, you lean to rest your head on his shoulder, same way you did when you were kids. You sit together, watching the moon and stars and the stream and the trees and everything else around you that reminds you you're alive, even if you don't feel it. You think of his fiancé, you know she'd never understand. This is childhood love in its most vulnerable form—and you thank him for it, silently, for reminding you that you're not alone. Even if you're sure you are.

He leans his head sideways, on top of yours—a gesture almost automatic.

"I still think of you in the summer." He mutters into your hair. You close your eyes and remember the sun, the way it once felt like it touched your bones. "The summer when we were nine. Swimming in the river at night. Those stupid bugs that I thought were made of fire." He pauses for a minute, looking around, and you think he's done talking, until he isn't. "I suppose I do understand why you chose this life."

You remember that summer, too. Small children swimming in a river that was all silver shadows under the moonlight, chasing fireflies like stars. No parents to call you home, no rules except the ones of your own.

Somehow, that's not your favourite memory of him.

"And I think of you in the fall." You say, listening to your own voice sounding distant. "The year just before Hogwarts. When the leaves turned red and orange and gold. When you raked them into a pile for us to jump in."

He hums. "I tried to kiss you that fall."

"And Tom fought you for it."

"And he won." Mattheo's voice sounds distant too, almost lost. "He always won."

It's strange, thinking of autumn when you think of Mattheo, but it fits—he's just as fleeting. Beautiful, easy to fall into, but always gone too soon, leaving a chill in his place.

"Sometimes I think it's because he knew he could." You build off his thoughts. "And sometimes I think it's because he just wanted to prove it."

He shrugs. "Either way, I still lost."

It's such a mournful way to reminisce, you think, for the children you used to be.

"And what now?" You ask.

He exhales slowly, and the smoke looks like a mist in front of you. "I suppose now we both lose."

And that, is the most honest thing he's said all night.

You turn your face into his shoulder, the way you had when you were younger. You close your eyes, and for a moment you imagine being a child again—back in the days when love was simple and nights were endless. Back to a time when you didn't know things you should and all you had were each other's shoulders to lean on in an orphanage dirtier than the forest before you.

"We lose together, then." You offer, a half-whisper.

"Yeah," he answers, just as quiet, just as lost. "We lose together."

There's a bitter kind of contentment in that, you think. You're sure that's a terrible thing.

You take a few moments to brace yourself for the shift in conversation, and then—

"How is he?"

"He's fine." Mattheo understands what you aren't asking. "The leader he always wanted to be."

You close your eyes again and hear the stream running steady, moving around rocks that have been shaped by years of its presence. You ignore the ache in your chest.

"He's happy?"

You don't have to open your eyes to know that Mattheo smiles bitterly. "He's as happy as someone like Tom could be."

There are several beats of silence, the kind that holds too many unsaid things. You feel it in Mattheos exhale that there's something he isn't saying. You don't press him on it. You sit together like this for a while under the sky—watching the way the dark clouds move, the stars shift.

You think about childhoods that never last. About fireflies and streams and boys you loved.

"Tell me something true." You murmur as the midnight grog sets in. "Tell me something that'll warm me through winter."

Mattheo pauses, silent, and for a moment you think he's not going to answer.

"I've loved you most of my life." He mutters finally, into the top of your head. The words feel like a breath of summer, in a quiet, dark night. "That's the kind of truth that could melt an iceberg."

It's the sort of declaration you could only share in the cover of the night, in the silence of a forest. Not the sort of admission that would ever survive daylight. I've loved you most of mine, too.

"And a lie?" You reply.

His fingertips run through his hair, almost idly. You suppose he's looking back into memories of fleeting autumn's and summer sun, the time he tried to kiss you and the day he pushed you away. He doesn't answer the question for a while. You wonder if he doesn't have an answer, or if he just doesn't want to say it.

And then, finally, quietly— "I'm happy for him."

You close your eyes again. That, you think, is the cold truth of winter.

You turn your face again into his shoulder for a second time tonight, but you keep your eyes open. You can feel the weight of your childhood on your shoulders, the trees and the creek behind you, and the silence that follows his lie.

Suddenly, you're furious—a fire tearing through regret. You wish Mattheo hadn't chosen booze, fights, and empty escapes. You wish he'd let you love him properly before pushing you away. You wish he hadn't always resented Tom—hadn't always felt second best in a way no amount of reassurance could fix. Yet somehow, you just can't fault him for any of it.

He's always known you loved Tom first; he's carried that like a wound.

"Ask me to lie to you." You say as you swallow your anger.

There's an exhale. You're sure Mattheo's watching the trees, the wind as it runs quietly past.

"Lie to me."

You tilt your head up to the sky. You try to remember that fall, you try to feel what it was like to be a child again, and to believe in a future that wasn't shaped by the past. You think of his fiancé.

"I'm happy for you." You whisper.

From the corner of your eye, you know he smiles bitterly again, but he responds with nothing more than his unsteady breathing. You're both silent like this for the rest of his stay, together under the moon that's watched you both change.

"I'll be back in a month," he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear as time stretches thin.

He has to go before the sun rises, before dawn coaxes him into staying. You consider, if only for the flicker of a second, letting him.

"I'll see you then." You lean back and look up into his eyes, searching into the gold buried deep. If you look too long, you think you may see his broken heart. You make yourself smile anyway. "Write to me."

"Even if you don't write back." He replies with a nod.

The cold air makes your eyes water. For a moment he's still, like he may pull you into him and drown you in all the things he feels. Instead, he puts a cigarette into his mouth, lighting it with one of his hands. The lighter casts an orange glow over his face that makes him look pale and tired again, like the boy you'd met in an orphanage that was so much dirtier than the forest before you.

"Good night." He murmurs, and you feel his thumb brush your cheek before he apparates back to the life you left behind.

And now, alone under the black sky, you take a deep breath. Then, you exhale, go back into your cabin and you try not to think about all the things you've lost.

You try not to think of the boy you've loved for far too large a part of your life and how it changed the boy who's loved you for far too large a part of his. You try instead to focus on what you have—walls and peace and solitude, something certain that won't disappear when it rains.

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gaywineauntsstuff · 2 days ago

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I love the idea of Dick being all the Batkid's favourite sibling but in violently different fonts.

Jason: Dick and Jay canonically have a pretty solid relationship but i'm partial to the Jason was around for Dick's rebellion stage and so Dick doesn't think he has to worry about the pedestal thing bc Jason has absolutely seen him violently hungover before he was legally allowed to drink font of this

So by the time Jason comes back and is no longer trying to murder Tim (except psychologically) Dick decides... Well he's evil sometimes but also I can finally tell someone all the Titans drama. So him and Jason meet up like once month if they're in the same city and get progressively drunker while shit talking their teams and Bruce.

Also I hate the Dick and Robin!Jason didn't get along. They absolutely did, Dick was like 0.5 seconds away from taking Jason to live with the titans permanently.

Tim: 'Oh Jason is Tims Robin, Oh Dick betrayed Tims trust.' in the name of the orange dude y'all elected twice W R O N G. Tim Drake used to watch VHS tapes of the flying Graysons routine. He wasn't even a batman Stan first. That came after he saw Robin do a quadruple summersault. Tim is a Dick Grayson fanboy first Person second. Like Tim canonically saw Jason die and went lmao skill issue, imagine not being like Dick Grayson i'm better. When Dick first started training him, he'd consistently excuse himself go to the other room, hyperventilate over Dick Grayson teaching him how to train surf. Dick is not just his idol he's also a pretty substantial part of Tim's support system. He calls Dick when he's going through something or is stuck on a case. And he knows that Dick will always have his back. They have like the unrealistic adorable sibling relationships from Tv that don't exist irl. Tim also does that awkward shuffle thing after fights bc they're still siblings and Dick just pretends the fight didn't happen until Tims calm again

Damian: You have to understand Damian thought he'd have to basically do the league all over again. He lands with Bruce and those ideas are soundly rejected and he now has no trust or respect and he has to adjust. And Bruce is doing his holier than thou, you should know better 10yro who literally was brainwashed as a child act, like Tim didn't have to pull him away from straight up becoming a villain and Dick didn't have to put him in his place with his fists a couple times a year (we love Bruce really). Then Bruce gets Time-streamed, Tim runs away and now the circus freak is BATMAN. Except the circus freak is also a sadistic bastard to criminals, despite being made out of marshmallows to you. Dick hangs people upside down off high buildings for information and cackles as Nightwing. He also listens to Damians worries and helps him deconstruct his bias view of the world. Dick canonically set the standard for child heroes and is among one of the most beloved and trusted heroes despite being marshmallowy and refusing to murder people. Dick is kinda like Damians stand in non pretentious moral compass until he learns his own one later on. Hence why Damian adores Dick Grayson more than anyone really.

in summary support my agenda that Dick and Jason are gossipy drinking buddies, Tim absolutely had a Dick Grayson Shrine as a child and Damian calls Dick to double check that he still cannot kill Timothy (its now entirely a joke.... mostly)

#dick grayson #comics #tim drake #batfam #bruce wayne #jason todd #batman #nightwing #red hood #batfamily #damian wayne #robin jason todd #Listen I love them #listen i love them so much #They're literally all my children but I have a favourite and its the blue one with the weird laugh (thank u yj tv show for this hc)#Tim used to have a kiddie crush on Dick Grayson and got over it b4 his time as robin but it haunts him at night #I stole this from the fact steph canonically had a crush on DG btw #He once told Steph post nap when he was loopy on morphine and she wont let him live it down. Ever

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no-144444 · 10 hours ago

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'then we can'- o.piastri

summary: breaking up sucks.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Waking up alone sucked, he’d learnt that in recent months.

You were gone. He’d fucked it up.

He dialled his mom’s number as the sun set over London.

“Osc?” she yawned. “It’s 2am, are you alright?”

“Mum, I fucked it up,” he cried, his eyes clouding as his voice broke. “I don’t know what to do.”

She sighed. She’d heard from Hattie that you and Oscar had broken up, and while she was heartbroken that she’d lost the girl she thought would become her daughter-in-law, she understood the reasons by which you two broke up. Neither of you had any time anymore. You were a Prima Ballerina and the Royal Ballet in London. He was a Formula One driver all the way in Monaco. He couldn’t make time for you in his schedule, and neither could you, yet you always seemed to, which led to him feeling increasingly guilty every time you begged him to come to London to see you, and he had to refuse. So he broke up with you. The girl he’d loved since he was 7 years old back in Melbourne. The girl who came to every single one of his remote control car races, the girl who smiled the brightest when she knew he was in the audience for one of her rehearsals, the girl who loved him more than he’d ever thought possible, the girl who he’d loved more than he’d ever known he could.

And it was his fault it was over. He’d sent the text, he’d dodged the calls, he’d blocked you, he’d pleaded with his family to block your contacts, going as far as to steal their phones to do it himself. It was all him.

“Baby,” she sighed, getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen, making herself a tea. She knew it was going to be a long conversation. “What happened?”

“I saw her,” he whispered into the phone, tears streaming down his face as he somehow stopped himself from breaking down completely. “I’m in London. I saw her dance.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “How was it?”

“It was beautiful,” he wiped his eyes. “She was beautiful.”

“I’m glad you got to see her,” she smiled sadly. “I know this is hard, Osc, but you have to let her go. That’s what you wanted.”

He closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. “I don’t think it’s what I want anymore.”

Nicole took a deep breath. “Oscar, you can’t play with her like that. It’s been 3 months. If it’s been hard for you, imagine how she felt. The love of her life broke up with her.”

He nodded. “I know,” he spoke, his voice breaking. “I know. I just… I don’t know if any of this is worth it if I can’t have her.”

“I don’t know if you can have her anymore,” she said, her voice comforting but stern. He had to understand that he did this to himself. He had to understand that he had to make amends here. “She’s going through the same thing, Osc, I know it’s hard. Heartbreak is awful. It makes you feel insane. You feel like you’re drowning, and she’s the only person that can save you, I understand.”

“I just want to talk to her again,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I just… I want to apologise and I want her to take me back.”

He cried for a few moments, his mom comforting him as he felt his entire world fall around him, and he could only think of you. He was drowning, and you were the only person who would save him, but he sent you away.

“I just, I feel so alone, all the fucking time! I feel so empty all the time, because I know I don’t have her anymore. And Hattie and Eddie, and Mae, they all fucking hate me! They all hate me, and I get why! I’m not sure I don’t hate myself!” he sobbed. For the next hour, he cried to his mom about everything, how guilty he felt, how much love he had for you, how much he missed you, how incredible you were. Everything. When he finally called down, Nicole spoke again.

“I’m going to come to the next race, alright?”

“Thanks mum,” he sniffled.

“And the girls don’t hate you,” she told him. “They adore you because you’re their older brother. They’re here for you Oscar. We all are.”

He nodded. “Thanks mum.”

“I love you, go get some sleep, yeah?” she smiled.

“Yeah.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

His mom was in the paddock for Las Vegas, battling with her own jet lag, her 3 daughters, and a son who was not doing well. But, she had a trick up her sleeve. She had also brought Logan and Arthur, who would hopefully calm Oscar down, or at least let him forget about you for a while.

“Mate, what’s up?” Lando asked, staring at his satiated teammate. “You look dead.”

“Nothing,” he brushed him off. “Just tired. Ready for the season to be over.”

He nodded. “You sure? You seem… off.”

“I’m fine.”

“Alright man, well, if you want to you can talk to me,” he offered him a soft smile before getting up, not expecting an answer.

Oscar smiled softly as he watched his mom and sisters pile into the meeting room, bright smiles on their faces. Quickly, the room was a flurry of hugs and ‘hi’s’, then turned into a nice family conversation.

“How’s Y/n?” he couldn’t help but ask during a quiet part of their conversation. The air changed, grew thicker.

“She’s alright,” Hattie smiled. “Dancing.”

“Oscar went to see her,” Nicole informed her daughters and watched as they went wide-eyed and nodded, understanding the weight of their brother's heartbreak. “He said she was beautiful.”

“Did you talk to her?” Mae asked, he shook his head.

“I just went to see the show.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Eddie added. “It’s only been what, 3 months?”

“4,” he corrected. “And 12 days.”

Damn, it was bad.

“You should try to let her go,” Eddie sighed. “She’s happy in London, she’s happy being a dancer. She’s happy. Is that not enough?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s really helpful,” he said, just above a whisper.

“We’ll leave you to get ready for the race,” Nicole sighed, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Be careful out there.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

The girls left the room and their faces dropped from the fake comforting smiles they had plastered on.

“What the fuck is he going to do?” Hattie asked.

“Look, I know it’s hard for him right now, be he’ll work through it-”

“No mum, Y/n’s here.”

“Shit.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He went through his steps before a race, stretching, reaction exercises, and listening to the voicenote you’d left him 4 months and 4 days ago.

“Hey love, I just wanted to wish you good luck today. I can’t wait to see you in a few weeks, and I’ll be cheering you on with everyone here. I know you’re going to do well today, I can just feel it. I love you Osc, please be safe.”

Sometimes he wondered if he got hurt, you would call him. He wasn’t sure, and he was risking himself more than he already did, being an F1 driver, so he hoped he’d never find out.

“Come on Oscar, let’s get to the grid!” Tom called after him as Oscar caught up.

Two words, Las Vegas. Cold, dark, and unforgiving. The land of bad decisions. He was on the front row, finally qualifying in p5, but with his fifteen-place grid penalty, he knew the race was going to be gruesome. But all he had to do was drive. He was good at that, great at that. He liked being in the car nowadays, it was the only time he didn’t think about you.

He bumped into someone on his way to the grid and, as usual, apologised without really thinking about it. He looked up for a split second and he saw you. Stunning, kind, real, you. In the flesh. He stopped in his tracks, ignoring the way his team shouted for him, and he set off running after you. People whipped by as he knocked into person after person, desperately trying to grab ahold of your sleeve, or call your name loud enough to catch your attention, but he could barely speak. Somehow someone always got in the way between you two, and he was always just a little bit too far back to tap you, so he sufficed for being dragged back to the grid and being held in his car until the lights went out. He just had to drive and get to the finish line first, he had to see you before you left. Easy when he was starting from p20. A fifteen-place grid penalty for new components to his car. He just had to race.

The lights went out and what came after was 50 of a Piastri over-taking masterclass. Up to p13 in one corner, pitstop and fighting his way all the way up into p1. Oscar Piastri was a 3-time Gran Prix winner. He’d won Hungary, Baku, and Las Vegas. The King of Sin-City for a night, and yet all we wanted was to figure out where you were. He asked every driver, wondering if you were visiting a garage as a guest- no. He wandered into every motorhome, asking if you were a guest- no. He checked every single fan zone (even checking a few grandstands that also had paddock passes), nothing. With no luck, exhaustion, and the beginnings of convincing himself he was seeing things, he retired back to his driver’s room, his back aching, his head hurting, and his mind racing. Inside Nicole sat on the bed.

“Hey mum,” he smiled tiredly.

“Hey darling,” she smiled, taking his hand as he sat down. “Are you alright?”

“I’m tired,” he admitted, yawning as he lay his head in his mother’s lap. There was a knock at the door and Oscar was much too tired to open his eyes, getting up and opening it was out of the question.

“Come in,” Nicole called out. Then she gasped, and while it made Oscar’s heart rate go up, he didn’t open his eyes.

“Y’alright?” he asked.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” she got up as Oscar shot up, coming face to face with you.

You looked so beautiful he wanted to cry.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Hi,” he answered.

“You can lie back down if you want, I know you must be tired,” you urged him to sit down and he followed your instructions. “I just came in to say congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he smiled awkwardly. “I came to see the show,” he admitted. You nodded, looking slightly shocked.

“I-I had no idea,” you chuckled, speaking truthfully. “I didn’t think you’d ever come see me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, nodding. “You were incredible,” he pushed through the emotion piling in his throat. Was that really the bar that he’d set for the love of his life? You’d come to countless races, missed opportunities to see him, yet he couldn’t even make a small amount of time for you to come and see a 90 minute show of which you were the lead of? Was he really that pathetic?

“Thank you,” you said, sitting beside him. “You were incredible today.”

“Thank you.”

“Your mum called me,” you explained. “She said you weren’t doing very well.”

He took a deep breath. “She’s right.”

“Me neither,” you admitted. “I mean, I act like I’m fine but the second I see something that reminds me of you I just…”

“I’m so sorry,” he teared up. “I love you so much.”

You looked at him, putting a hand on his cheek. “I love you too.”

“Can we give it another try?” he pleaded.

“Can you promise me that I’ll feel like a priority?”

He nodded, trying not to break down.

“Then we can.”

3 words. 3 words of mercy. 3 words he loved more than hearing ‘I love you’ from your perfect lips.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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misserabella · 12 hours ago

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bloody and needy

just thinking about spencer being the kind of MAN that doesn’t care about blood. you want period sex? you’ve got it. that’s it. that’s the prompt.

cw: +18, minors dni!, period sex, blood duh, spencer being a service king, praising, lots of pet names and dirty talk, breeding kink, overstimulation, creampie, allusion to a second round…

it’s all a blur. you don’t exactly remember how or when spencer took off your clothes, but you’re laying completely naked over a couple of towels on your shared bed as his large fingers pump into your squeezing cunt.

“fuck.” and you’re moaning, cause it feels so fucking good you want to cry. it’s been over a week since you two have had sex, since he’d been away for a case, and just when he was finally coming back home and you hoped you’d finally get some release, that time of the month tagged along. so there you were, horny, desperate, and bleeding. but your boyfriend doesn’t care about blood. ‘it’s natural.’ he’s told you before. ‘tell me what you need and i’ll give it to you.’

so here you were now, legs spread as he adds another finger, your own in his hair tugging at the feeling of him stretching you so nicely… spencer kissed and sucked at your neck, his cock throbbing at the sweet sounds you’re making and the squelches that come from your cunt as he pumps in and out.

“spencer…”

“god baby, you’re so pretty like this…” he muttered, needy to be inside but waiting for you to give him the go ahead. his hand is a mess of crimson but he pays no mind to it.

“need you.” you breathe out, your back arching as his lips latched to your nipples.

“yeah? you need me?” he lapped at one of them and you nodded, whimpering. “should i take my fingers out then?” you nodded once again, but still whined at the loss of pleasure. “i know, i know baby. so needy for me.” he was quick to make work of his clothes, throwing them aside with your own and positioning himself in between your legs.

your hips and legs trembled when the tip of his cock teased you, and his tongue wetted his lips at the sight of the face you made when it bumped against your clit. “so sensitive huh?” he smiled and you nodded, eyes hazy.

“feels so good…”

“im gonna make you feel better, angel.” he said as he pushed inside with one single thrust, what made you scream. “fuck. you’re so warm…” he gritted his teeth as he started to move, leaving kisses on your neck. “so wet for me. you feel like heaven, love. so good for me.” he praised as he fucked into you, your legs surrounding his hips and your nails digging on his back. “you needed this, hm? baby? you needed me to fuck you, huh? my poor pretty girl. i’ve always told you that you just need to ask and i’ll give you anything.” your cheeks blushed, and you whined. “see what being a good girl and speaking up gets you, baby?” he pecked your lips and you moaned at a partially harsher thrust. “like that?”

“harder.” you desperately asked and he complied, fucking into you at the same speed yet harsher. you couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers falling from your lips. “spence…”

“i know angel, you’re so sensitive, doing so good for me…” one of his hands found your clit, circling it. “you can cum, pretty girl.” you moaned, your back arching. it was almost too much, until the overstimulation faded and you were grinding against his touch and cock in a daze. “jesus. if you could see yourself right now baby, so fucking hot… gonna make me cum so hard…” you whimpered at the thought. “yeah? you want me to cum for you baby?” you nodded. “where?”

“inside. cum inside please.” you babbled, your whole body tensing at the approaching of your orgasm. spencer groaned.

“you want me to fill this pretty pussy? make a mess out of it?” you cried and hiccuped in answer, muttering a ‘yes’ that almost made him bust in the spot. “want me to get you round and pretty for me?”

“yes! please, spencer, please…!” you begged and he moaned.

“i’m gonna cum baby, gonna fill you up so much it’ll be dripping out of you for a week.” that made you unravel, the tight band in you stomach snapping as you screamed in release, moaning his name over and over. “fuck, angel, fuck.” he groaned as he felt you clench, and after three stuttering thrusts, he spilled everything inside of you, kissing you sloppily as he fucked the two of you through it.

after the two of you came down, he caressed your cheek. “you okay, baby?”

“more than okay.” you smiled, and he couldn’t help but do the same.

“i’m gonna go find something to clean us up, okay?”

yoy looked down to find his thighs and v line along with his lower stomach stained in your blood. it only made you throb and him hiss.

“or maybe not.” he replied as he felt you starting to rock your hips against his already hardening cock.

“maybe not.”

❤️🩸i’m on my period, SO WHAT

#spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!readr

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gojoscinnamonroll · 3 days ago

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thinking about messing with ino! while he’s in the middle of a video game; he has been playing on that stupid game for what feels like hours and even though he’ll ask you every 10 minutes or so, “baby, are you okay?” “princess, do you need anything?” etc etc, you were still annoyed on how his video game had more of his attention than you.

so, when you finally got fed up and bored of lying on his bed scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, pinterest, instagram, and twitter on rotation for what feels like eons, you set your phone down and with a mischievous grin, walked over to him in his gaming chair and got on your knees. “whatcha doin’ pretty baby?” he asked with his eyes still glued to the screen, “oh, nothing… don’t mind me, just go back to playing your game ‘kay?” you looked up at him with a innocent smile. but in your head, you were thinking about how you were going to punish him for giving his attention to a stupid game on a tv than you being right in front of him and in his presence.

you started caressing at the bulge in his grey sweatpants and his breath hitched. ino was trying really hard to lock in and focus on getting his victory royale but he also wanted to just throw his controller across the room & watch you take him. “what’s wrong baby? thought you were too focused on your game? hm?” giving him a playful smile as you pull his length out of his sweatpants, pumping it a few times before pressing a kiss to his swollen tip already oozing with pre. "I- I am baby.." he exhaled as you felt him melt into your touch. you licked along the vein trailing down his cock slowly before enveloping him with your soft lips. he let out a low whine as you slowly take him whole. he didn't realize his character in game was dying over and over from being shot at because it wasn't moving until you stopped to look up at him with doe eyes and glossy lips, "focus.." you purred. "your game isn't going to win itself now is it?" he snapped out of his daze to focus on his game again, "y-yeah, you're right" he stuttered with flushed cheeks. you went back to stroking him again with delicate hands and your pretty mouth.

"f-fuuck mama, you f-feel so good" ino moaning as your head goes up and down him and gently playing with his balls overstimming him as he tries to concentrate on winning his game. teasing him, you trail a few kisses up and down his length as you murmured against him, "I'm sure I do..." still leaving kisses. "too bad you don't give your poor little girlfriend the same amount of attention as your silly little game."

whimpering, he starts to profusely apologize, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby, I'll get off the game and give you all my attention, I p-promise, you're making me feel so good, I-"

you interrupt him. "win this game for me and I'll let you be a good boy and cum down my throat" tapping his tip onto your pink, glossy pout with a pretend thinking face.

his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store and starts spamming all types of buttons on his controller eager to win this game as you continue to bobble down his cock, drool spilling from the sides of your lips and getting so sloppy that you can practically blow bubbles on him.

VICTORY ROYALE!! pops up and takes over the screen of the tv and he starts blabbering as he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, "baby baby baby baby can I- mmph.. can I c-cum please, please can I cum?" he throws the controller to the other side of the room and starts gripping onto the armrests of the game chair until his knuckles started turning white. "c'mon you nerd," you looked at him with lust in your eyes, "give it to me." as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out for him to release his load down your throat.

"thankyouthankyouthankyou" he rambled as you milked him for all he had. "learned your lesson? you goof." you laughed.

"yes. yes i did." getting up from the chair and kicking the rest of his sweats off and throwing them to the side to lean down and pick you up princess style and laying you down in the bed.

"now i'm going to make it up to you, your highness" kissing your hand teasingly and sliding your shorts off.

likes + reblogs appreciated <3 please don't steal/copy/modify my works!

#gojoscinnamonroll ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊#ino takuma smut #ino smut #jjk ino smut #jjk ino #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #ino x reader #takuma ino #ino takuma #ino x you #ino takuma x you #ino takuma x reader #takuma ino smut #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino x you

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hai7ani · 2 days ago

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a final piece to tachibana / link to previous

Haitani Rindou, Me and My Husband

Haitani Rindou is 28, an ex-felon, and he has no idea what the other guys his age do, other than stare at a wall and wank all day like the idiot from his cell does. He's tried so hard fantasising, and yet he still can't imagine a life of actually having consistent daily, weekly routines. When he's out and he witnesses the rush of modern day Tokyo where everyone's constantly in a hurry to get to somewhere, he can't help but question just where in the world are they going, and what in the hell are they rushing to do. Work? Are they that devoted to their job? Meeting a friend? Are they really that important?

He's spent the last 8 years of his life stirring soup and boiling rice in a kitchen that earns him about ¥500 per month, sweep fallen leaves during autumn while witnessing fights break out between inmates at the yard, and work out in the mini gym of a prison.

Now that he's out and he's staying with you at your place out of your own wallet where you've also bought him a phone with a functioning sim card, some warmer clothes to wear and laze around in, and pay for all the things in the house despite him having a job as well that pays more than what he's used to earn, he feels awfully bad. He stares at the digits in his bank account as he rubs at his nape.

For the first time in his life, Haitani Rindou has no clue what to do with himself.

You work a nice paying job in corporate 一 a result of your endless hard work, a desperate yet successful attempt to break free from your past 一 and at night he refills the vending machines that you and your co-workers empty during the day.

He's aware that the current gap between the two of you is big 一 it's extreme. He hates that he isn't able to provide more for the two of you at home other than doing simple laundry or sweeping the floor while you're away at work. He knows how to cook a little (simple recipes that the inmates eat daily, but he knows you won't like the food, because you weren't an inmate), but not full-on meals that you usually make and leave in the warmer for him when he finally gets home to eat.

He thinks about who he was before his time in prison and he doesn't recognise that boy anymore. An extremely outgoing party boy who rebels, fights and drifts when the sun is down, and an ex-felon who works about 4 hours per night refilling vending machines that people like his past-self vandalise and abuse just for the fun of it 一 those are 2 different people living 2 different lives, from 2 different universes.

Tonight, when the moon is up and he's got you in his arms 一 all warm and tucked in while you snore in his ear 一 he thinks about just what can he do for you to make you happier. He's aware he won't be able to provide much financially 一 not right now at least, and he's not a great communicator as well. He isn't confident he can always get his point across without having it sound like he means an entirely different thing. He has spent more time away from you than with you, after all.

And he hates to say it because he thinks he's in no position to do so, but the two of you are a bit complicated. You're childhood sweethearts who come from the same hometown and grew up together, he's the one who committed a crime, got sent in, and you were left yearning for him on the outside. He's the one who's made love to you before, and it is also his fault that the two of you are like this right now. You're kissy and touchy, he sleeps shirtless and you sleep in just panties, but you don't have a label to your relationship. He doesn't see you as a friend 一 he sees you as his world, but if he were to introduce you to another person, does he call you his friend?

He doesn't know how to make it better, but you always seem to make it feel like everything's alright when you'd knock on the bathroom door and offer to help him shave or give his hair a trim. He thinks the two of you are doing fine, but then his mind shifts to the therapist note you'd obviously accidentally left sitting on the dining table one morning and his heart aches.

You haven't been doing well lately. Recently. Frequently. For many, many years, you haven't been okay. He wonders if you have always smiled this often around other people 一 when he was still in prison, or before you were able to see each other again after years of lost contact 一 because you're always grinning ear to ear when you'd cling onto him in bed or straddle him on the couch while plucking his eyebrows as he hisses in pain.

But when you shift a little in bed and snuggle your nose deeper into his neck and sigh, the tightening in his chest softens a little. Your alarm's going to ring in about 5 minutes and he switches it off before it can. He spends the rest of your time rubbing your back, waking you up gently as he gives you some time to adjust to opening your eyes. He hates that you always seem to jolt awake when the alarm rings, as if it scares you a lot. It's almost the same reaction he's seen in you when you were younger and would hide against a raised fist. He doesn't want you to feel like that anymore. He went away for this exact reason and all he wants to do is to hide you away from fear.

And as you stare up at him, eyes half-lidded and cloudy, it's as if the colour of your irises are hypnotising him with words 一 whispering it in his ear as they ask, "do you still not see it?"

He does. He sees it now.

All the doubts and worries in his head swiftly vanishes and it all makes sense now 一 why you still choose to be with him despite everything that's happened to your lives, why you still seem to care so much for him.

The love in your eyes evident, as you smile softly while the sun slowly rises above the horizon, and he settles.

You love him just as much as he loves you.

All you've ever needed was him. Just him. Your Rindou.

He's got nothing else to worry about now 一 he's got the world in his arms. Even if it'll take him years to adjust to his new life, he'll be doing it with you.

Perhaps today he'll take the time to bake you your all-time favourite chocolate chip muffins 一 he'll run to the store to get the ingredients and maybe pass by the jeweller, browsing.

He wonders if the numbers in his bank account would be enough to buy him a ring, but he'll have to get the size of your finger first, right?

tachibana's tldr (TW!): you and rin were childhood friends, you were abused growing up, rindou killed your abuser and went to jail for it but you never found out until ran told you so you think he's been mia all this while when he's actually in jail

tachibana is officially discontinued, but i didn't want to leave it hanging because i cherish the story a lot (it just wasn't well-planned), so here's a final piece to wrap up the story 🤍

#writing #all you've ever needed was just him 一 the missing piece of your heart #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #bonten x reader #bonten

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warpedpuppeteer · 2 days ago

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It would be great if they talk about how Buck thought his relationship woes would be "fixed" because he finally figured himself out as bi and that was the answer he was always looking for but that was only just one part of the journey.

Buck's problem with relationships is that he's always taking cues from his partners and course correcting by making unhinged proposals (like moving in) whenever he gets something wrong or thinks he can "prove" his love (or prove he can fall in love with them in the future).

He's never fully himself in any of his relationships. He's always playing the part of what his partners need (service top buck truthers this one's for you). Being an emotional pillar for Abby or a protector for Ali for example.

Even in his first relationship with a man, instead of exploring and having fun, Buck was operating in the assumption that he needed to be a long-time partner material and that it's just like any other relationships he's been in. Hence, the invite to move in with him.

And to be fair to Buck, gender really doesn't matter to him because it's like...okay it's a little bit different but it's still the same in that it's a relationship and it's someone he's interested in. So really, for him, his sexuality isn't where his issues lie.

In all his previous relationships, it's been more about him changing than being himself. He stepped in with Abby, he compromised with Taylor, he was philosophical/spiritual with Natalia, he was discovering a new aspect of his identity with Tommy etc.

And Buck is fantastic in that he's always willing to learn things about himself. He was always capable of being all of this for someone but he just needed time and experience to bring these sides out of him.

Now this would be great except...all his previous partners reacted adversely to these changes. He got too emotionally attached to Abby when she really only wanted the part of Buck that was fun and flirty. Ali liked Buck being strong & protective until she realized that he would risk his own life in being a protector even for strangers.

Taylor liked that Buck was thrilling and exciting until she realized that he had morals he won't compromise on. Natalia was so very interested in Buck's experience with death until Buck was more focused on living. Tommy liked that Buck was newly bi and curious but stepped back once he realized that Buck was taking this very seriously.

Instead of embracing all the changes Buck was going through, his partners almost wanted the Buck they fell for originally. Kind of like...they fell in love with the IDEA of Buck rather than Buck himself.

So Buck actually needs someone who knows him as Buck in his entirety. Someone who likes Buck as he is but also likes him even as he changes and grows. Someone who Buck shows his true self to instead of adapting to his partner's needs.

Take me as I am, flaws and all. Take me as I am, and as I will be.

Not only does he need to realize that he doesn't have to shove his own needs/wants into the background but also that he needs a partner who will not expect anything more from him than he can give. When he does realize this, that's when Buck is truly free of the hamster wheel.

Of course, i can go on about who exactly is the perfect partner for Buck but instead, here are a few quotes that's very important in showing who it is :)

"you're the guy who likes to fix things"

"just do what you always do, talk to him"

"you think you're expendable but you're wrong"

"now am i allowed to ask how you are?"

"once he knows that you're an idiot, he'd love you, like we all do!"

"there's nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you"

"i forgive you...just don't do it again"

And the most damning of them all:

"you don't have to be anything for anybody"

#evan buckley #evan buck buckley #character analysis #911 meta #buddie #911 abc #eddie diaz #relationship analysis #i did this on twt first so it probably doesn't flow as good as it should lmao #the way buck and eddie complement each other is everything to me

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covenha · 2 days ago

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Synopsis: seonghwa harnesses the power of manifestation to get himself a girlfriend. Pairings: Simp!seonghwa x fem! reader Genre: crack, fluff, just seonghwa being a silly goofy guy Warnings: witchcraft technically? astrology is also mentioned WC: 1577 a/n: another self-indulgent fic is done! wrote this after i finished an exam so read at your own risk. i might right more bonus blurbs for this but who knows. this is a piece of fiction so it does not reflect who the characters are irl. please read the warnings carefully! and as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated 🫶

Simp!hwa had been content with silently pining over you. That is until one day he asked for a sign from the universe if he should confess. He was walking down the streets of his neighborhood while on his way to school with a little skip in his step, excited to see you. He was nearing Mrs. Nesbit’s house, an old lady with a splotchy memory but a kind heart. He stops to wave at her as she sways back and forth on the rocking chair on her porch. Then, as if she read his mind she goes, “Hurry up or you’ll miss it!”

Was this it? Was this the universe finally telling him to shoot his shot with you and confess his profound love for you?

Well, the answer was no. Mrs. Nesbit was referring to the bus two blocks away ready to leave Seonghwa’s delusional ass behind. But it’s fine. He didn’t really care. All he really cared about was figuring out how to get you to fall in love with him so that you guys grow old together and live out your best lives with your two cats and moss ball babies.

Now, Seonghwa knew that he had to approach this from a proactive standpoint. Sure, you and him have been friends since both of your awkward emo teen phases but he really wanted to cement in his chances with you. So he turned to the one place he knew he could get somewhat decent love advice from; Reddit. And with the wise words of Wefishyfishy98 he knew what he had to do. If he really wanted this he needed to use the power of manifestation.

Simp!hwa wore your hair tie on his hand with pride. He read somewhere on twitter that girls liked to “mark their territory” with things like this and he grew weak at the knees thinking about you staking your claim on him. (Of course, in a completely normal and non-a/b/o kind of way.) I mean isn’t this such a boyfriend thing to do? He was clearly using the power of manifestation or whatever that fish guy said on Reddit.

And this is why, when summer grew closer and the weather grew warmer, Seonghwa absolutely did not want to return it to you.

“Hwa, C’mon it’s hot and I don’t want my hair sticking to my neck.”

“Look, I can get you a new set of hair ties! Here, look at these cute ones I found on Etsy.” He tried to distract you with some cute kuromi hair ties he just found. Jongho is just silently observing the interaction between the both of you.

You found it weird that he refused to give it to you even after you pestered him to but you decided to just give up and tough it out. And those ties on Etsy were kinda cute.

“Fine. I guess the weather isn’t so bad today. What are you even doing on Etsy anyway?” you try to take a peak at whatever Seonghwa is looking up on his phone to which he quickly turns it off and puts it screen down on the table.

“Nothing!” You seem a little taken aback by this. “Just… looking for plants for my… aquarium.”

“You mean your aquarium filled with moss balls… a plant. You want to get plants for your plants?” you blink at him.

“Technically they’re algae.” Jongho butts in.

“Right…. Well, at least you’re passionate about your moss balls?” you trail off.

Seonghwa breathes a sigh of relief as Jongho nods on to you changing the topic to something about your mother’s extensive cacti collection. He opens up his phone again and clicks the order on his Etsy cart.

“I hope this works.” He thinks to himself.

That same night, Seonghwa started wracking his brain trying to think of something else that he could do that was “boyfriend coded”. And after much deliberation while staring at the ceiling, it finally hits him. She should be my lock screen! I mean nothing screams boyfriend like a cute candid picture as my lock screen.

So, with this in mind, he scrounges through his gallery looking for a good photo of you to put as his lock screen. Then he spots the perfect candid of you in his living room sitting on the floor with lego pieces scattered all around the floor trying to assemble his lego death star with him. You aren’t looking at the camera, instead you look completely locked in on building the superweapon of the Empire with him. He stares at the image with a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Without even realizing it he’s smiling like an idiot at his screen and he buries his head on his pillow and screams into it while kicking his feet on his mattress.

That night he dreams of a distant future with you. One where he can call you his. Oh, and of course you can’t forget your two cats Lily and Bongo, and his ever growing collection of marimo balls.

A week and a half later, he’s checking his phone every few minutes and then looking at the front door waiting to see if the delivery truck has arrived. Today was your birthday and the gift that he had bought you was running dangerously late. Which is why when he hears a truck nearing the property he all but zooms off the living room couch and to the front door. He accepts the package from the delivery man and quickly unboxes it.

“It’s perfect.” he thought, smiling to himself as he delicately put it in a bag.

Later that day, as he walks you home just in time for you to have dinner with your family he surprises you with the gift.

“Wha- Hwa? I thought we weren’t doing gifts this year?” you say as you accept the small paper bag from him.

“Well, I say this and I just couldn’t not get it for you.” he just smiles at you shyly as you look at him, surprised at the gesture.

“Now, I have to get you a gift worth two birthdays next year.” you joke.

“You’re the best gift life has to offer.” he thinks. But he shakes his head, a dumb smile on his face. “Open it.” he motions to the gift.

You open and find a couple kuromi hair ties, just as promised. But also, a jewelry box with a bracelet inside. It had a dainty gold chain and a baby pink stone in the middle.

“Hwa, I love it.” you smile at him. “It’s so pretty.” you inspect the bracelet.

“Here, let me put it on you.” he gets the bracelet from the box and clamps it around your wrist. He smiles at the sight of you wearing the bracelet.

He unfortunately had to leave because it was getting dark and he had to feed his cat at home. But, he swears he feels something in the air that night.

“Please work.” He mumbles to himself.

In hindsight, what Seonghwa felt that fateful night was probably just pollen, because the very next day Seonghwa finds Jongho coming down with a bad case of allergy sniffles. The cafeteria is filled with the sounds of chattering from hungry sleep-deprived college students and Jongho’s sneezes.

“So, did you finally give her that rose quartz bracelet you bought from that Etsy witch?” Seonghwa’s cheeks burn at his words.

“Yea. It was a good time too. Venus was in mercury gatorade or something.” he mumbles while picking at the skin on his thumb.

“Ahem.” You startle both boys with your presence. You raise your eyebrows at both of them and decide to end their misery of staring at you with their mouths open in shock. “What’s this about an Etsy witch?”

“I do not recall saying Etsy witch.” Jongho mumbles quickly then packs up his things, muttering some excuse about buying a gatorade from the vending machine. Seonghwa just sits there, mouth agape, trying to stutter out some excuse but nothing coherent falls from his mouth.

“Hwa, you know you didn’t have to summon the forces of magic and astrology to make me fall in love with you right? I kinda already am.” You blush as you admit your feelings for your best friend.

Simp!hwa’s brain malfunctions hearing this. Heart pounding, mind racing. Did she just... Did she just say that? She likes me? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever. What now?! I didn’t actually think I would get this far. Shit what happens next. Do I shake her hand? No, that would be weird. Just say something, Seonghwa! Say something!

“Will you be my manifested girlfriend?” he asks in a dazed voice. This makes you giggle before you shake your head then decide to kiss him on the nose. “It’s about time.”

Seonghwa wastes no time in going in for a kiss. It felt like fireworks were going off in the background (it was just Jongho having a massive sneezing fit). The moment was perfect. It was magical. You guys stare into each other’s eyes and it felt like all was right with the world. As the both of you pull away from the kiss, Jongho sits down at the table with a purple gatorade.

“You know it's actually mercury retrograde, right?”

#ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez hours #ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #ateez scenarios #ateez #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa au #park seonghwa au #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa blurbs #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa hours

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revelboo · 2 days ago

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I literally can't get enough of your writing like I need it like oxygen at this point 🙌 I am not above begging for more of Everything is alright or Over it now

My heart is literally hurting for Star because he genuinely didn't know, and he finally is starting to be vulnerable, and now he knows it's not going to last no matter what. And the inner turmoil of the reader being so torn between him and Soundwave? Wanting both but not being able to hurt Star after he put everything at risk?? It's so good but it hurts my heart 😭😭

And Jazz finally getting someone who would listen to his feelings and get to know the real him under all his masks?? The poor guy needs that so bad, and he's finally opening up (even if she can't understand what he's saying)

All in all, your writing is amazing, and you are literally amazing ✨️✨️✨️

Thank you! I have a lot of fun overthinking why the characters act the way they do and trying to get into their heads

Over It Now Pt 11

IDW Jazz x Reader

• “You could just let me take you,” he says as he watches you lock the door and do an awkward shuffle to put the keys away while trying to not drop one of your crutches in the process. Leaving him for work again. Wanting to help, but also knowing exactly how stubborn you are as you eye the stairs off your porch. He’d also figured out forgiveness was much easier to ask for than permission, reaching to lift you in his servos and carefully set you down in the driveway crutches and all bypassing the steps and then backing up to fall forward into his alt mode.

• Heart racing at being picked up unexpectedly, you warm watching his antics. Because he knows you struggle with the steps and he’d saved you from dealing with them when he didn’t have to. “We both know you have better things to do than chauffeur me around,” you say, trying not to laugh when he opens the driver’s side door and wags it back and forth in invitation.

• “Come for a ride, doll. I’ll behave.” Door still open, he fully expects you to walk past him to your own ugly car, so it’s a surprise when you slide in the driver’s seat and awkwardly lean the crutches in the passenger side. And then you’re right there and he’s more aware of you this way somehow than when he’s held you in his servos. You’re warm against him, soft hands brushing the steering wheel hesitantly as if not sure if it’s okay and he can smell your soap, your shampoo, you. “Alright,” he murmurs more to himself than to you, because it’s a small thing, but you’re entrusting yourself to him. And that means so much.

• There’s no way to not overthink that you’re sitting inside Jazz and it’s weird. You end up folding your hands in your lap so you don’t touch anything you shouldn’t. Inhaling as the shifter moves on its own and then the wheel spins as he reverses. “Doll, you’re going to have to at least pretend to drive,” he laughs and he’s right. Other drivers might notice you’re just sitting there so you just barely touch your palms to the wheel, letting it move freely against your skin.

• Primus, you’re precious. Eyes darting all over his interior, trying so hard not to touch anything. “What do you do normally? I mean a phantom car driving itself has to freak people out,” you mumble, shifting against him as he turns onto the road, wheels humming. Liking the feel of having you there, surrounded by him and safe, it takes a moment to actually understand your question. It’s not nearly the same as holding you in his hands, but still comforting to him that you’re there with him. It doesn’t take a lot of energy, but he does have to concentrate to create a holomatter avatar in the passenger side seat to show you what he normally does, not bothering to make it solid at all since your crutches are embedded in the avatar’s legs and torso and your head turns as it appears. He’s not sure what he expected, but it’s definitely not for you to scream and throw yourself against the inside of his door.

• “It’s me. It’s an avatar,” the glitchy thing in the passenger seat is saying in Jazz’s voice, holding up big hands as you nearly have a heart attack. “Doll, it’s okay. Sorry, I just-frag.” And the human shaped thing flickers and fades, leaving your heart hammering against your ribs. You’re still plastered to the door, hands curled into fists. “Were you going to punch me?” Yes. You absolutely were, because it had just been there so suddenly, a fixed grin on a fake looking face that was staring right at you, Eyes closing you lean your forehead against the cool glass of the driver’s side window and try to calm down and instead start laughing. Covering your face with your hands as he vents at you in exasperation, blowing warm air across your skin and you realize he’s never asked where you work, an address or anything. So how does he know where to take you? Has he been following you?

#transformers x reader #jazz x reader #idw jazz

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itsa-me-lily · 1 day ago

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I am still tired, but brain is less mush after some lunch. (Can you guess what I had)

Here is other Military Program Spouse (mobile is fighting me to add the link)

It helps to assume here that unless stated otherwise Simon is wearing a medical mask around reader. She’s just like whatever floats your boat my dude

Content warning;

Mention of food, medical devices, scars, cellulite

“Simon whatever your middle name is Riley you better not be looking at my legs.”

Maybe his mum had a point, that women developed eyes in the back of their head. He wasn’t deliberately looking at your legs, but he wasn’t not not looking either. For some reason unbeknownst to him, you had decided that you had to make the biggest batch of soup known to man. Sure the seasons were changing, summer slowly letting go for fall, but it wasn’t as if a chilly wind was rattling at the windows threatening to steal whatever heat existed. It was still relatively balmy, warm enough to have the windows open and enjoy the breeze. Warm enough that having the stove going made the kitchen borderline stuffy, encouraging you to cook in just a loose tank top and shorts that hit mid thigh.

Simon wasn’t a prude, he wasn’t scandalized at seeing the curve of your thighs, or grossed out by the cellulite. Everyone had fucking skin and however you wanted to dress in the comfort of your home you were welcomed to it. But he had eyes and well he was curious. His own body was covered in scars and tattoos that told a myriad of stories. So he looked to see what yours had to say.

Picking at the chicken you had left on the counter he counted the spots that your insulin pods left behind like stars, noticed how you missed a small strip of hair when you were shaving, even the mole that you had on the back of one ankle; they all came together to make up parts of a story about his wife that he was just starting to get.

He was so lost in thought, mechanically putting piece after piece of poached bird into his mouth, barely paying attention to anything besides the action of seeming busy, that he didn’t notice when you turned around, the exasperation in your voice finally catching his attention.

“Seriously? What did I just say?”

Simon wasn’t someone who startled, didn’t jump or hunch his shoulders to his ears. He had spent far to much time sharpening himself as to cut anyone who tried to catch him unaware. He just wasn’t prepared for you to admonish him like that, hands on your hips and looking for him to answer your question.

“What? You said not to look at your legs…I wasn’t lookin’ at them”

Not a lie, but not quite the truth.

“Yeah instead you’re eating your way through them!”

He blinked at you slowly once and then twice, following your gaze down to the plate of chicken leg quarters he was indeed making his way through. At least one looked like it had been pounced on by scavengers.

“You said no lookin’, nothing about no tasting.”

That was most certainly a twitch to your eye. That probably should have been concerning, but honestly Simon was secure enough in his height and size that if you tried to suffocate him he could throw you off. He was a good head taller than you, honestly how much damage could you do? When you pointed your wooden spoon threateningly at his chest it didn’t do much besides remind him of a little old grandma who would wield the same utensil as a weapon.

“You sir, are an asshole. Now go run to a shop and get me one of the pre cooked chickens.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve eaten half my damn chicken and like hell is my sancocho going to suffer for it.”

“Your what now?”

Yes Simon Riley knew he was being as ass. Yes he also thought that there was a realm of possibility that your upset face and clear murderous intentions were slightly endearing. But only slightly.

“My god damn soup. I swear to god if you fuck this up for me I will find a way to make you suffer the consequences.”

“Alright alright, no need to have a bird over some-heh, bird.”

He didn’t stay to see the double middle fingers you aimed for his back, he didn’t need to. He was pretty sure you were also cursing his name and maker. It wasn’t until the front door shut behind him that your colorful vocabulary was loudly shared with the world. It made him chuckle as he picked up his pace.

Heaven help anyone who got between a woman and her soup.

Edit

I am very passionate about my soup

#military program spouse #cod #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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ambers-archive · 22 hours ago

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About you

In which Spencer falls in love with your words before he falls in love with you as a person

It’s 2:30 a.m., and all Spencer can do is stare at the ceiling, his migraine making him feel restless.

He’s only ever told Emily about the migraines, who now is gone.

Of course, blue light is making it worse, he thinks, but he can’t help himself.

He’s been re-reading your research paper.

You’re a medical student, just starting to dip your toes into the ocean of research. He’d been deep on the web, scrolling through articles, when he found yours. It only had around fifty reads—probably because it still needed refining and had only been published two hours ago.

The paper centered on the dismissal of female patients in medicine.

He knows he is not the target audience for your research paper, yet heh finds himself relating to your words.

His migraines have often been waved off, reduced to psychosomatic symptoms, or trivialized as “nothing serious.”

“I just want to feel safe going to the doctor,” you’d written.

He knows it’s odd to be so fixated on an article—and by extension, on you. Your full name, along with your email, was listed at the bottom. Public information; perfectly reasonable for him to reach out, yet he resists, settling instead for reading every word you’ve written, as though someone finally understands him. His thoughts seem to echo from your words.

“Our health is seen as us overreacting. We could be bleeding abnormally, clearly in pain—pain that’s beyond anything comparable. Yet, it will be dismissed as period pains. Cramps. ‘Just tough it out.’ It’s no accident that the word hysteria originates from the Greek word for uterus.”

Doctors and nurses—the very people you’re supposed to trust with your life. Spencer reads the passage over and over, wanting to etch it into his memory. He loves the way you write—assertive yet curious, optimistic yet grounded in reality."

He finds himself frowning reaching the bottom of your paper.

There must be more, he thinks. Do you only write research papers? Are you a reader, too?

Feeling like a bit of a creep, he types your name into a search engine. His smile widens when he finds your blog. The page features the same painting you used for your article profile—another piece of you for him to explore.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #my writing #writing #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dr spencer reid

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sleepyparalysisdmon · 12 hours ago

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SVT and Jealousy

Requested? Yes!

Requests: "seventeen reaction to their partner being jealous" and "seventeen getting jealous over their partner? could be because someone’s flirting with their partner or maybe their partner is spending more time with a coworker or classmate to complete a project"

A/N: this one was a bit of a doozy since I decided to address both requests in one go.

A/N #2: This is the new and improved version which includes all of the members. Thank you to the person that let me know that one was missing. I'm not sure if reblogs that are already out there will contain this fix, but just an FYI.

Seungcheol

When he’s jealous: everyone saw this coming. It takes very little for him to be like, “hmm, that person is too close” or “that person’s talking to you too much”. Might insert him into the conversation both verbally and physically in a way that screams that you’re taken. Sometimes you’ll roll your eyes about it and call him a big baby, but sometimes you might have to have a serious conversation about whether he trusts you or not. Will still want to make it apparent that you’re taken even if it’s not super aggressive, so that’s kind of a non-negotiable here, I fear.

When you’re jealous: oddly, I think he’d be confused by this. Not because he doesn’t understand jealousy, but because he feels there’s no reason. He’s so unapologetically into you that he’s totally lost when you say someone was too close to him or talking to him too much. You’ll have to equate your jealousy to his own for him to ever get it - you know, the typical “would you like it if I did that?” He would not.

Jeonghan

When he’s jealous: such a rarity. He’s pretty secure in general, I think, so on a typical day it never occurs to him to be jealous. But I think if there were someone that you’re closer with or have a deeper history with (like a close friend that seems to blur lines or an ex that you still see from time to time), he might feel a little jealousy stir. SUPER passive aggressive if he’s ever feeling this way. You’ll leave an interaction and have to be like “what the hell was that???” Will never admit to said jealousy.

When you’re jealous: he actually wants you to be a little jealous. Starting to sound like a potential red flag, but hear me out. Won’t do anything crazy, but might not shut down a conversation that he recognizes as a tad too friendly right away, only to watch how you react. I believe he’d do this to reassure himself that you care. If you tell him something like that really bothers you, then I think he’d stop though.

Joshua

When he’s jealous: this absolutely manifests as insecurity. If you talk a little too much about one of your coworkers, it might make him think about what that coworker has that he doesn’t. Might not ever admit to the jealousy itself, but will certainly ask for a little extra reassurance when he’s feeling like this. 'Do you still love me?' 'Are you happy with our relationship?' 'Are there things I could do to make you happier?' Put this sweet, sweet man out of his misery.

When you’re jealous: oh, he never means for this to happen, I promise. He wants you to feel secure in the relationship, the same way he wants security himself. But he’s so friendly sometimes that both you and everyone else might misread it as something else. If you tell him you were bothered by something, he’ll make a real effort to eliminate the possibility of that happening again, but it is what it is sometimes.

Jun

When he’s jealous: it’s obvious because he clams up. Will give very brief answers with a little furrow in his eyebrows until you finally ask him if he’s alright and he falls apart. “Do you even love me anymore?!?” The drama!! You’ll have to press for specifics about what made him feel this way so you can avoid it in the future. At the very least, reassure this big baby that you still love him.

When you’re jealous: smug for only a moment. Quite literally a single second. He doesn’t like the idea that you doubt his love, just like you wouldn’t like it when he doubts yours. So he’ll be more cognizant in future interactions and if something can’t be helped, he’s reassuring you right away that it wasn’t what you might think.

Hoshi

When he’s jealous: so pouty and sulky. Where as Jun might bite his tongue for a little bit, I don’t think Soonyoung would. He’ll let you know right away that he doesn’t like this person and might even beg you to put some serious distance between you and them. Another big baby to reassure, but he’s really just nervous that you might not like him as much as he thought.

When you’re jealous: huge question mark floating above his head. Then when it clicks, he’s quick to assure you it’s nothing like that and you have nothing to worry about. Will lay it on thick just because he wants you to understand how into you he is. Will freely admit that there’s not a single thought in his head besides you a lot of the time. What you don’t know is that that conversation you saw across the room consisted of ‘my partner’ this and ‘my partner’ that.

Wonwoo

When he’s jealous: will never say it. He’s a lock box when it comes to this. If you do manage to pry this out of him, I think it won’t manifest in words as much as it would in actions in the bedroom. Would not be super possessive in public, but will want the reassurance that only he can do that and see you like that, you know?

When you’re jealous: smug for a moment as well, before he’s putting your mind at ease right away. Even if he won’t say when he’s jealous, he’ll tell you exactly what he thinks of that person that was just a little too close to him for your liking, even or rather especially if it’s mean. This might also manifest in the bedroom if only because he’s just not a man of many words.

Woozi

When he’s jealous: will become pretty irritable about it. When you leave this event, he’s snippy and seems annoyed with everything you say. This honestly might lead to a little bit of a fight and it might take some time to reassure him on where you stand. Really just wants to know that you’re his as much as he’s yours but won’t feel like he can come right out and say that.

When you’re jealous: totally lost. He works with a ton of artists, but why is it an issue now? If you say it’s because you’re sure this person is into him what with the messages that have been going back and forth, he’ll flat out say he doesn’t care about this other person. Would be pretty intentional about drawing boundaries with this person from then on because he trusts that you’re seeing something real there.

When he’s jealous: oh boy. How can he draw attention to himself immediately? If his big personality doesn’t work, then he’ll resort to making it apparent that you’re taken, probably by just coming over and introducing himself as your boyfriend. If you raise an eyebrow at him about it later, he’ll shrug. “What, am I not?” Never mind that he’s praying that you agree and he didn't somehow miss an entire breakup.

When you’re jealous: much like Joshua, he’s perhaps a little too friendly for his own good. Totally oblivious about the other person’s intentions until it’s a little too late. The moment this person tries to touch him or say something flirty, he’s dragging you over to him, saying “hey, have you met my partner that I’m super in love with???” Not subtle at all and will not let you linger on those sort of thoughts.

Mingyu

When he’s jealous: Another one that could be a bit intense in making sure someone understands you’re taken. Like s.coups, it takes very little for him to get to this point. Talk about clingy anytime, but specifically in this situation. Doesn’t even have to say anything because he's already hanging all over you, but trust me he will. It’s ‘baby’ this and ‘love of my life’ that when he inserts himself into the conversation. Totally good once your attention is back on him, so another of the big baby club.

When you’re jealous: A natural flirt and absolutely won’t mean it. I picture that you will have to be just as aggressive as he is when he’s jealous for him to get that he’s letting a few too many little comments or touches slide. But he wants you to cling to him too, so while I don’t think he’d go out of his way to make you jealous necessarily, he doesn’t hate it if you are.

Minghao

When he’s jealous: ooo another passive aggressive one. After about the fifth snippy comment, you’re pulling him off to the side to ask what his deal is. “That person is my deal. They’re coming on to you.” No matter whether you realized it or not, if you say something like “so? I want you, not them,” he’ll just do a little ‘oh’ and let it go.

When you’re jealous: I’ll be honest, I think he’d be able to read the other person’s intentions and will never let it progress to something that could make you jealous if he can help it. But sometimes he can’t help it because it’s work related and he has to be friendly in front of cameras etc., so he’ll be quick to remind you of the same thing you tell him - that he wants you, not them.

Seungkwan

When he’s jealous: so damn snarky. This person will know that Seungkwan doesn’t like them. You’ll know Seungkwan doesn’t like them. Everyone will know Seungkwan doesn’t like them. You or someone else might have to even tell him to lay off a bit. That snark might be directed at you too, and you’ll have to wait until he’s ready to really talk about it before you understand the issue.

When you’re jealous: another one that the friendliness will get the best of him some times. He’s such a social butterfly, and to some extent you might have to accept it. Still, he doesn’t want to make you feel insecure about the relationship, so whether you’re around or not, he’s talking fondly of you to let others know he’s happily taken.

Vernon

When he’s jealous: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, he’s not that aloof!!! Totally recognizes when someone’s coming on to you, but I don’t think it’s in his nature to act jealously. He sits back and watches, will maybe be a little uncomfortable, but you genuinely may never know that he feels that way. Feels better quite literally as soon as your attention is on him again. That’s actually all the reassurance he needs.

When you’re jealous: now I have to admit…. This might be where he’s a tiny bit aloof. May not recognize that someone’s hitting on him, like, ever. At least not until someone else mentions it. This might be tough at first, because he wants to recognize when this is happening to put a stop to it for you, but usually doesn’t realize until it’s far too late. Eventually, he’ll realize he can just casually mention you at the top of the conversation to imply he’s taken. He might even let himself look a little lovesick too for good measure.

Chan

When he’s jealous: retreats into himself and sulks. When you find him later, he might say something snarky like “where’s your friend?” Please shrug and say I don’t know so he can breathe for a minute about the fact that you don’t seem to care about that person. Might need extra reassurance here and there to feel secure about situations like this because, like I’ve said for others, he wants to know your his as much as he’s yours.

When you’re jealous: another one that’s sometimes too friendly for their own good. But he’s perceptive about it and when he realizes how you might take it, particularly if you’re showing signs of being jealous, he’s quick to abandon this person and smother you with affection until you get it. I mean, squishing your cheeks, kissing you, and loudly telling you he loves you and only you, regardless of how public the setting might be. Will lay it on thick because he doesn’t want you to have any doubts.

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fanaticsnail · 2 days ago

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Oh, oh, Buggy for the kissing booth please? (And if someone is in line ahead of me could I be tagged for him? 👉👈) Thank you! 🧡🧡🧡 This is such a fun idea!

-rorywritesjunk

(imma just request from main now on)

The Kissing Booth - Buggy for Rorywritesjunk

Word Count: 1,400+

Notes: Thank you so much for your patience, Rory! It's been a little while since I've done one of these! True to his form, here is the fail-forward clown in all his charismatic glory. Thank you for being here, and I hope you enjoy his kisses!

Taking a few final breaths to calm yourself down, ears pricked at the approach of heavy boots crunching gravel beneath the firm leather heels. Jingles of trinkets falling from jackets and belt buckles is what you assumed the twinkling chime sound was, but you knew better than to make an assumption on a stranger.

Laughter and merriment flung from the throats to christen the atmosphere with their joy, unintentionally drawing your own to bubble in your chest at the seriously large influx of unusual laughs. Not so much the content they were laughing at, but the laughs themselves was what had you teetering out soft giggles.

“The hell is-...?” A nasally voice cut out, as the halt of his feet stood at the path before where you sat, “...A ‘Kissing Booth’? How does that work?” A few voices began to whisper amongst themselves as the boots drew ever nearer.

Straightening your back, you shook yourself clear of any nerves as your posture became more alert and attentive. The crunch and crackle of boots meeting the floor halted and you felt your nose pick up the first whiff of their cologne. A deep musk and playful fruity scents interwoven with the spray of the sea, alongside something that almost matched the acidity of lemon sweets, met your nose and caused your mind to wander. Before you could make a motion to speak, their voice interrupted your monologuing with the same nose-front resting tone.

“What do I do? Just sit in front of you and get a facefull of tongue?” the voice asked with confusion laced in their tone. “Are you even any good? No offense intended or anything.”

You immediately reclined in your stool with your brow furrowing beneath the mask at his questioning. Hooking one leg over your knee, you fold your arms and turn your face from the stranger.

“If I wasn’t any good, I wouldn't have volunteered for this,” you huff, angling your chin in the air and electing to ignore him. “And no, I don’t give out a ‘faceful of tongue’. If that’s your idea of a kiss, please, by all means, jog on.”

“‘Jog on’?” He mimicked you, moving towards the guest seat and plopping himself down on the surface, “Crew, you lot ‘jog on’. I’m gonna have words with this one.”

“You sure, Captain?” another voice asked the man, only being met with a few sounds of claps of hands meeting shoulders and directions for the person to hush. Overlaps of: “We can go on the ferris wheel,” “Boss is letting us of the leash,” “The captain wants some privacy,” and “I want to hit the barbeque,” was released in hushed whispers as footsteps immediately fled the scene unfolding between you and this ‘Captain’.

After the sounds of feet meeting the ground left to a complete vacation from your proximity, a few leaves of paper crumpled into the jar beside you by the hands of your guest.

“I-... uh-...” they began, slowly scooting the stool closer to you, “I’m sorry about the tongue thing. I don’t know what that was all about. A-And for judging your abilities to kiss. I’m sure you are a fine kisser, and considering I’ve paid my Berry, I mean… If you’re still wanting to… I just… I’m sorry.”

You still angled your face away from him, only now pursing your lips to stifle a rising smile on your face. Slowly but surely, you turned to face him and extended your right hand out to offer him your truce. You felt his shrouded hand meet with yours, noticing a slightly worn fuzz to the leathery material before you felt contact meet with your knuckles.

Breath warmed your skin before his lips descended to the middle knuckle: pursed in a perfect heart shape to caress your skin. Holding their lips there for a moment longer, they removed them and thumbed over the spot.

“Forgiven then?” the voice asks you softly. You slowly turn your shrouded face towards him and give him a polite nod.

“I’m sure your comment was offered in jest,” you smile at him, your hand still placed within his own. “And that was a very unique way to use your donation. Most people go for the lips.”

The hand wrapped around yours tensed, frozen in place as their breath hitched in their throat.

“That wasn’t-, I didn’t mean-, kiss on-, was that-?” his words all jumbled together like a clown missing each juggling ball on their descent. You chuckled at his words, unlacing your knees and leaning towards him.

“I was joking,” you nod at him, slowly moving your hand up to where you assume his face was. Immediately, his remaining other hand blocked your touch: his thumb in the center of your palm and for fingers circling over your fingers.

“Don’t,” they warned you, moving in closer, “It’s… It’s better if you hold still and I lean in. Uh… In fact.” Their face felt closer to yours, each moment seeming to bob against your face without ever making contact, “If… If you could tilt your head a little…”

You furrowed your brows, but complied with his request. Tilting your head to the right, giving him more of an invitation, you were unsure as to what you were expecting.

Only seconds pass until you feel contact being slowly pressed against your face. Not your lips, but stamped against your cheek, a round object squished against your skin as they moved their lips ever closer.

‘A nose?’ you thought to yourself, refusing to question their actions and only tilting your chin up as a response. As you angled your face upwards, you felt his lips meet with yours. Timidity, uncertainty, and a small quiver was found in the lips of this formerly confident captain. Each motion was slow as he opened up more to the kiss.

Slowly moving his lips against yours, he expelled a breathy sigh as you reciprocated all of his movements. Mouthing at your lips, he flicked his tongue out to playfully brush with your bottom lip, only to immediately whimper as you parted them to accept him. His hands left yours, regrouping to cup your face with his gloved hands. Pinky fingers at your jaw, he held you steady as he added more pressure to the intensity of his kiss.

His head tilted to change angles, offering you a few more fluttered kisses as he swapped directions, brushing the rotund tip of his nose against yours in the interlude between his deep kiss. The moans from his throat intensified as you drew your hand to his chest and held firm to his collar, never breaking the kiss first for fear that you would pull away too quickly.

There was no stop to the motions, using all in his power to continue claiming more of you against himself while attempting to breath as much of you in as he could. The way he kissed you was as if you were the last kiss he would ever have before resolving himself to the gallows. The need for air began to tug at your lungs, as was his own, prompting him to break the kiss with a smacked pucker of his lips on yours.

“I-...” he choked as he panted through the heave of his lungs screaming at him, “...Am Buggy. And that?” you felt his clothed thumb press against your lips, brushing the skin in a smooth swipe, “That was a really good kiss. Hold still for me, starlight?”

“Hold still-?” your question dies on your lips as you feel him begin to swipe a wet piece of material over your lips and dab at a few key spots on your skin.

“I… I wear paints, and you got a little transferred on you,” he commented with a small chuckle, “Don’t you worry, you’ll be all back to how you were when I clean you up. Just keep sitting as you are, and I’ll be done in a second, alright?”

You did as you were told, asking no questions while Buggy dutifully cleaned up your features with every slow movement. As he said, it was all over in a quick moment. As he pulled the cloth away from your skin, he took a moment to ponder you as you sat on the booth.

“When you’re all done up here, ‘shut up shop’ as it were,” he pressed the towel to the tip of your nose and playfully dabbed you, “Let me take you out? Just as an apology for the earlier comment about the faceful of tongue and the judgment on your ability.”

You hum thoughtfully and purse your lips in mock thought. Taking a second to yourself, you smile with your nose crinkled in a playful scrunch.

“I’ll think about it.”

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #the kissing booth #buggy #buggy the clown #kissing booth event #follower milestone #one piece x reader #x gn!reader #one piece fluff #op buggy #buggy x reader #one piece kisses

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doeeyeseddie · 1 day ago

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Piaaaaaa "brushing their arm against the other's, hoping the other would finally catch their arm and hold it close" please, we already know they constantly brush arms anyway!

fridaaaa this took me, once again, many months to get to and i sort of only vaguely filled the actual prompt, but i hope you still enjoy it <3

5+1 things, rated t, wc: 4k

[read on ao3]

Eddie’s first day as a probationary firefighter is…interesting. Captain Nash welcomes him with the same warm smile he gave him the first time they talked, then leads him inside and shows him around the app bay.

“We’ll give you the full tour later,” he promises, “after you’ve met the rest of the team. You’re the first one here, if you want, you can change into your uniform now.”

He points towards the locker room – which has glass walls for some reason – and Eddie nods.

He’s just finished buttoning up his shirt when Captain Nash ushers a group of firefighters inside. Eddie runs a hand through his hair to make sure it’s tidy and smiles as Hen and Chimney introduce themselves to him with warm smiles and handshakes, welcoming him to the team.

There’s a third person with them, hovering in the background and glowering at Eddie. He’s young, probably around Eddie’s age, tall and very built, and despite his hostile expression, he doesn’t give Eddie the impression of being an asshole. It’s like the expression doesn’t fit on his face, like he’s not used to wearing it.

Chim grabs him by the arm and pushes him forward, giving Eddie a commiserating smile.

“And this guy is Buck,” he says. “He was our probie before you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie says politely, stretching a hand out to offer a handshake. “You’ll have to show me how things work around here, then.”

Buck glowers down at his hand, and when he finally grabs it, he squeezes it too tightly, like he’s trying to prove something. Eddie squeezes back, amused by the pretense this guy is clearly putting on.

Behind Buck’s back, Hen rolls her eyes, but she’s also wearing a fond look, which only confirms Eddie’s assumption that Buck isn’t half as bad as he’s pretending to be.

From Captain Nash, he knows that they’re supposed to work together a lot of the time, so that’s gonna be interesting. He doesn’t know why Buck is acting like this, but he’s gonna find out, and then he’s gonna figure out a way to work with Buck anyway.

He didn’t come here to make friends, but he’ll be spending 50 hours a week with these people, and he has to trust them with his life for a lot of that time, so they at the very least need to bury whatever hatchet Buck is carrying right now.

Eddie lets go of his hand with a nod and a polite smile, and gives himself a week to figure Buck out.

II.

The days between the accident and the funeral are kind of a blur.

There’s too much to do and think about, too many decisions to make, too many people to call, too much to organize. He has help – Abuela, Pepa, the entire 118, but it still feels too much.

Shannon was 27, she didn’t have a will, they never talked about any of this. How is Eddie supposed to know how she would like to be buried, or if she’d rather be cremated? What kind of music she would want them to play at her funeral? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not for a very, very long time.

But it did happen, and now Eddie is somehow supposed to know all this about her, his wife, the woman he’s only just let back into his and Christopher’s lives, the woman who asked him for a divorce and completely pulled the rug from under his feet just a day before she died.

Sometimes, he feels like he didn’t know her at all.

His parents are here “to help”, which should be a relief but really isn’t. They never liked Shannon and aren’t making a secret of it, even now that– now that she’s gone. So Eddie can’t involve them in the funeral planning, and he can’t even leave Christopher with them because he’s scared that they’re gonna take the opportunity to grab him and run, and someone needs to make sure that Shannon’s memory is honored, but she didn’t have any family except him and Christopher, and Chris is seven, so Eddie has to be the one to make this funeral beautiful, something she’d deserve, but he doesn’t know– there’s so much–

“Eddie,” someone says next to him, snapping him out of his spiral. “Come on, breathe with me.”

Eddie stares at Buck’s chest as it rises and falls with exaggerated breaths, trying to match him. When did Buck get here? He doesn’t remember letting him in, doesn’t really remember what he was doing before he started hyperventilating on his couch.

“Chris,” he gasps when he realizes that also means he’s not sure where his kid is. And of course he’s the kind of father who would do that only days after his kid lost his mom, maybe his parents are–

“Is with Hen and Karen,” Buck says firmly, grabbing his forearm. “He’s gonna spend the day with them and Denny, probably getting spoiled rotten. I borrowed Pepa’s key when we went over there so they could pick him up, she told me you might not open – sorry for barging in here, but I’m glad I did. I know you– I wanted to– Bobby and Athena are running interference with your parents. And I’m here to help you with all that.” He gestures towards the couch table that’s covered in forms, leaflets from funeral homes, and cards from grief counselors. “After Abby’s mom– I helped plan her funeral. So I’ve got some experience.”

Eddie just stares at him, biting the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself from crying. He trusts Buck, but he still doesn’t want to cry in front of him, doesn’t want to cry in front of anyone. But he does think that maybe he should give Buck his own copy of a key, so he won’t have to borrow Pepa’s next time.

Buck squeezes his forearm and gives him a small, sad smile. “We’re all here for you, Eddie. I got your back, remember?”

Eddie blinks against the tears in his eyes and swallows around the lump in his throat that’s keeping him from saying anything.

Instead, he twists his arm from Buck’s grip and grabs his hand instead, squeezing it in a silent thank you.

Buck squeezes back and keeps holding on.

III.

Buck gets to go home earlier than anyone expected, but Eddie has been to his new apartment, so he isn’t surprised when Buck texts him a picture of his couch with a sad face. It’s not ideal, but at least he has a bathroom downstairs and a girlfriend who can help if he struggles with anything.

Until he doesn’t have that girlfriend anymore.

Eddie doesn’t find out until after his shield ceremony, days after, actually, once his parents have finally gone home to Texas.

Buck says he’s fine, obviously, but Eddie starts going over every day he doesn’t have a shift anyway, because he knows Buck and can see how much he’s struggling with the whole situation, with the uncertainty of when and how he can return to work.

He brings Christopher most of the time. They’re not having the best summer either, Eddie still worries that he’s not doing enough to help Christopher deal with his grief, when he can barely keep his own head above the water of grief, guilt and fear.

Carla is doing what she can, watching Christopher whenever Eddie’s working, she found him a grief counselor and is even looking into more permanent therapists.

None of it changes the fact that they’re grieving.

But when Christopher gets to hang out with Buck, he lights up every time, and so does Buck, which makes this a two birds with one stone kind of situation. Hanging out with Buck helps them both, too, makes their grief not the first thing on their minds for a little while.

Buck can’t move much, so they play board games and try to find one they all enjoy equally – it’s not easy, since Eddie likes luck-based games (he plays poker with his abuela and tía whenever he can), Buck prefers trivia and games relying on knowledge, while Christopher likes strategic games most.

But everyone gets to pick sometimes, and when they don’t want to play board games, they switch to video games instead.

Eddie knew that Buck and Chris get along well, they have ever since the first time they met, when Buck drove Eddie to Chris’ school after the earthquake during Eddie’s second week at the 118. But with how much time the three of them are spending together now, he can see them growing closer every day – and he loves it.

Buck is his best friend, and he genuinely cares about Christopher in a way that feels completely independent from Eddie.

One evening, while they’re playing a few rounds of Christopher’s current favorite video game after dinner, the kid falls asleep between them on the couch.

Buck smiles down at him and lowers the volume of the TV, which means he loses even more clearly to Eddie, but he had the win in the bag anyway, he’s sure.

Buck rolls his eyes at him when Eddie celebrates his victory with big, silent gestures, but he’s smiling, too.

Eddie grins at him, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind Chris, and Buck twists a little to face him. His leg, resting outstretched on the couch table in front of them, moves with him, and Eddie slides Christopher’s glass of water out of the way in a practiced move.

“I know you’re here to keep an eye on me,” Buck says, “and I should probably be annoyed. I– I was kind of annoyed, at first. But it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s here, right?” He nods down at Christopher. “And I guess you’re okay, too.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie says, but he knows his glare isn’t convincing. “To be clear, we’re all keeping an eye on each other.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck reaches for Eddie’s hand, still on the backrest between them, and squeezes it – just for a moment, like he’s trying to get Eddie’s attention, like he doesn’t already have it anyway. “Thanks.”

IV.

Everything sucks.

It’s the uncertainty that gets to Eddie most, the not knowing how to help, how to stay safe, how to keep his loved ones safe. How long this is gonna last.

Every day, they have to see people die from a virus they know nothing about, and can’t do anything against.

And afterwards, they can’t even go home.

Christopher is part of a high risk group, and Eddie risks exposure at work every day, so obviously, he can’t endanger him by living with him. Chimney feels the same way about Maddie, and Hen also wants to keep her family safe, which is how the three of them ended up at Buck’s apartment, where they’ve been camped out for the past three weeks.

It’s generous of Buck to let them all stay with him, but the loft is not made for four people to live there, and they’re all feeling it.

Eddie loves his friends, but spending every minute of every day with them is starting to wear on him. They all try to give each other space, using the balcony as an extra room or going for runs outside, but there’s only so much they can do.

He hates being separated from Chris, it makes him feel like he’s breaking his promise to never leave him behind again. Christopher says he understands, but Eddie worries anyway. He trusts Pepa, who’s working fully remote and offered to stay with Chris, and they talk every day, but it’s not the same as being there.

Whenever he talks to Chris on the phone, he feels better in the moment, but worse the second they hang up. While they’re talking, he can almost pretend that things are normal, but it all comes crashing down afterwards.

He hasn’t hugged his son in weeks, and he has no idea when he’s even gonna see him in person again.

Buck joins their calls most of the time, at least for a few minutes, and he sits next to Eddie on the bed now, shoulders slumped where they’re touching Eddie’s. In a world where he has to keep his distance from almost everyone, except the patients he’s treating and the people he’s living with, touching and being touched by Buck is a real comfort.

“This won’t be forever, Eddie,” he says, almost desperately.

“But for how long?” Eddie asks, and it comes out sounding a little wobbly.

He’s not embarrassed by it anymore – Buck’s seen him in all kinds of situations, and they’re currently sharing a bed, so he’s seen him cry anyway.

“I–I wish I knew,” Buck says. “I wish I could– fix this.”

Eddie wipes at his eye and laughs a little. “The whole pandemic?”

“If I could, yeah.” Buck shrugs.

Eddie presses even closer to him for a moment, a gentle pressure of their shoulders, arms and thighs against each other. “I wish you could, too. But even if you can’t – I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course.” Buck smiles at him and places his hand on Eddie’s thigh, palm up.

Eddie smiles back and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I think it’s our turn to make dinner tonight – you ready?”

“Ready when you are,” Buck says, but he doesn’t let go until Eddie does.

After Chris has gone to sleep, after Eddie has finally stopped crying, after Buck has wrapped his knuckles and cleaned up the worst of the mess in Eddie’s bedroom – the shards, the pieces of drywall, the fallen furniture, he makes up the couch for Eddie to sleep on. Eddie wants to help him, to tell him that he’ll just sleep in his room, but he can’t seem to move from his seat at the dining table.

Everything feels like too much, his hands hurt and his head worse, and he can’t stand the thought of Buck leaving. He’s exhausted, but he knows he won’t sleep if Buck goes home now.

But he can’t ask him to stay, not after Buck already dropped everything because Eddie couldn’t keep it together. He probably had plans, and Eddie ruined those too.

He can already feel the hot burn of tears behind his eyes again and drops his forehead onto his arms, folded on the table in front of him.

Buck’s hand lands on his back, warm, then travels up to squeeze the back of his neck gently.

“You ready to sleep?” he murmurs, and Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. “Come on, you must be exhausted.”

Eddie shrugs and Buck’s thumb brushes along his hairline.

“You don’t have to go in there, I can get you anything you need,” Buck says quietly. “And I’ll be right next to you in case you have a nightmare.”

“You’re staying?” Eddie asks, lifting his head. Buck’s hand stays where it is.

“Of course, Eddie,” Buck says, like it’s that easy.

And maybe it is that easy, Eddie thinks when they settle in next to each other in the living room, Eddie on the couch and Buck on a makeshift bed next to it. He’s pushed the couch table to the side to make room for it and it looks like he’s dragged Eddie’s mattress here, so at least Eddie doesn’t need to worry about him sleeping on the floor.

They’ve been by each other’s side through so much shit, maybe it’s not such a surprise that Buck wants to be here now too. He’s just not sure he deserves it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Buck. “You had plans– I’m sure you didn’t want to–”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Buck says firmly. “Of course I’ll come whenever Christopher calls. O–or if you need me. I’m here, okay?”

“I keep thinking about her,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the heels of his hands to his burning eyes. “Mills. Last August– I should’ve– if I’d picked up the phone earlier–”

“This isn’t on you.” There’s rustling and then Buck is gripping Eddie’s forearms, trying to gently pull his hands away from his face. “I d-don’t know what Mills was going through, but I know that you couldn’t have known how bad it was. It’s sad, and it’s unfair, but it’s not your fault. And I know you’re feeling all these things now, but Eddie– I’m so happy you’re still here. I need you to– know that. Okay?”

Eddie finally lowers his arms, but instead of letting go fully, Buck just grabs his right hand and holds on. His eyes are wide and scared, and Eddie has scared too many people he loves tonight.

“Okay,” he says, even though– well. What makes him special? Why should he be the only one to get out? He’s not a better person than any of them, he doesn’t have a right to happiness or whatever he’s been deluding himself into believing he could have.

But he knows that he can’t tell Buck that now (or ever), knows that it’s a dark road to go down.

Maybe for tonight, with Buck by his side, he can keep the thoughts at bay for a little bit longer. After that– he has no idea. But Buck is still holding his hand, and Eddie may not deserve him, but he trusts him.

He thinks it may just give him enough hope to get through this night.

+ I

“This was nice,” Buck says, holding the door for Eddie as they leave the restaurant. “You, uh, you really didn’t have to pay, though.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie says with a smile, glancing right towards their cars and then left to where the beach is only a short walk away, and finally back to Buck’s face, finding him already looking back. “How do you feel about taking a walk?”

Buck grins, turning left. “Let’s go.”

They’re not on a date, or at least they haven’t called it that, but Eddie has been thinking that it feels like one all night. Technically, they’re two friends trying out a new restaurant together. They drove here separately, no one pulled anyone’s chair out, they talked the same way they always do.

But Eddie spent half an hour picking something to wear tonight, Buck is wearing a shirt that looks new and gorgeous and fit for a date, and every time their eyes caught across the table, Eddie thought that maybe, Buck wouldn’t pull away if he reached out and took his hand.

It’s not the first time Eddie has thought that. Ever since Buck and Tommy broke up, it’s felt like maybe they’re heading towards something, familiar touches lingering and turning into something new, gazes catching and then holding instead of looking away.

Buck was upset for a little while afterwards, but he admitted to Eddie that it was more about another failed relationship – and his first one with a man, after he thought he’d finally figured out what was missing, than about Tommy as a person.

He went on a couple of dates, with men and women, but nothing ever stuck.

Eddie was going through his own stuff at the time – he eventually came out to Buck a week before Chris finally came home, and Buck hasn’t been on a date since.

Sometimes, Eddie wonders (hopes), if the two things are related.

Still, neither of them has called tonight a date – yet.

Eddie glances at Buck’s profile while they’re walking, and wonders what he’s waiting for.

Yes, it’s scary because Buck is the most important person in his life right after Christopher, but it’s also not, because this is Buck. Who has been by Eddie’s side through the worst, most painful, most humiliating times of his life, and is still here. Buck, who Eddie trusts with his life, and his son, and his heart.

Buck smiles at him and Eddie smiles back, heartbeat picking up. He’s doing this, he’s gonna tell Buck how he feels. Any minute now, he’s gonna be brave enough.

“Hey,” Buck says, “it’s just me.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and his heart thumps against his ribs. He lets his fingers brush against Buck’s on their next swing and watches as Buck bites his lip, smiling down at the ground. Hushed, like a confession, he adds, “Are you nervous, too?”

Buck looks back up at him then, eyes glittering in the dark. “Y-yeah. I am.”

They’ve reached the edge of the beach by now and bend down to take off their shoes without having to talk about it.

When they start walking again, they’re even closer than before, the backs of their hands, their elbows and shoulders all brushing with every step.

Eddie keeps stealing glances at Buck, and almost every time, Buck is already looking back.

There aren’t many people at the beach at this time of day, so they don’t come close to anyone else, and all they hear is the sand beneath their feet and the waves crashing a few feet away. The moon is big enough to be reflected on the sea, a beautiful sight, but Eddie still can’t look away from Buck for long.

“So, this is, uh, kind of romantic,” Buck blurts out after a few quiet minutes. “Right? I–I’m not misreading that?”

“No,” Eddie says. “I mean– you’re not misreading it.”

“But you’re nervous.”

When their knuckles brush again, Eddie stretches out his fingers and catches Buck’s, holding on. Buck’s own fingers tighten immediately, and it gives Eddie the last bit of courage he needs.

“Well, yeah. Buck–” He stops walking, and Buck follows, turning so he’s facing Eddie. He’s close enough that Eddie can see his expression despite the dark, and he looks terrified, hopeful, nervous and excited at the same time, all of which Eddie feels, too. Eddie takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous because– nothing…no one’s ever been this important.”

A smile spreads out across Buck’s face, slowly deepening the crinkles around his eyes. “So this was a date?”

“Did it feel like one to you, too?”

Buck’s smile widens. “Yeah, i–it did. And I’m–I’m nervous too, of course. Eddie, if we do this, there’s no going back for me. I can’t– lose you. You and Christopher, you’re too important.”

He pulls on Eddie’s hand a little, and Eddie takes another step closer, drops his shoes in the sand and places his free hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb resting against his collarbone.

“It’s the same for me,” he says quietly. He shivers when Buck grabs his waist, the warmth of his hand seeping through Eddie’s shirt. “I– We don’t know what’s gonna happen. But, Buck– I love you. I love you so much, I have for…way longer than I was aware of it, and I just don’t see that going away. And I don’t think it’s fair to us to deny ourselves when I really think we could make each other– so happy. I know I can make you happy, and I want to prove it to you every day of my life, Buck.”

Buck is just staring at him with a dazed expression, his lips slightly parted, and Eddie suddenly can’t stand not kissing him for a second longer.

He slides his hand from Buck’s shoulder to the back of his neck, watches Buck’s eyes flutter shut and feels his fingers tighten on his waist, and then he’s finally, finally closing the distance between them.

Buck makes a soft sound against his mouth, like he’s still somehow surprised this is happening, but he gets on board very quickly, and Eddie stops thinking entirely.

When they pull back breathlessly, Eddie’s hair is a mess – he can feel the loose strands on his forehead – his lips are still tingling, and Buck’s got both arms wrapped around him tightly.

“In case that wasn’t clear,” Buck gasps, and lifts a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s chin and caresses his lower lip, and Eddie presses a kiss to the pad of it. “I love you, too.”

#buddie #911 #buddie fic #911fic #pia writes #ask #leothil #frida tag

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