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megalony · 3 months

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I'm Taking You Home

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, requested by the lovely @senjoritanana I hope you like it and I'm surprised how quickly I managed to finish this for you. Feedback is always amazing.

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911 Masterlist

Summary: While out on a call, someone tries to shoot at the 118 and the accident bursts (Y/n)'s eardrum. Evan makes sure to do all he can to look after her.

Enjoy.

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"I'm ready for bed." (Y/n) braced her hands on her hips and tilted her head back as she clicked her spine into place. Her knee jutted forward and she took deep breaths as she waited on the pavement for Evan to catch her up.

"It's only lunchtime,"

She tilted her head to the right and raised a brow at Eddie when he playfully bumped his shoulder into hers. He looked down at his watch before he looked back over at her. It had just gone twelve, they were on time for once to go back to the station and get lunch before another call dragged them back out.

"Excuse me, we've been on a two-day bender at the station. We haven't been to bed yet."

Eddie held his hands up in defeat when Evan walked over towards them and slung an arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders, reeling her into his side.

Evan, (Y/n) and Bobby had all been on shift for near enough forty-eight hours now and they'd had four hours sleep, if that. The station was short handed and with Hen, Chimney and Eddie all needing to have a break between shifts due to childcare, (Y/n) and Evan stepped up. They were alright with doing long shifts, especially when they were paired up together.

They didn't mind whereas it wasn't fair for Eddie or Hen or Chimney to do longer than a twenty four hour shift when they had families to go home to. Unless it was an emergency situation, of course.

(Y/n) leaned her head back onto Evan's shoulder and grinned up at him when he swiped her helmet from her head so he could see her properly.

She hated how much she loved it when Evan reeled her into his side like this. (Yn) hated just how much she loved to slot under his arm and how she fit perfectly into his side like two puzzle pieces slotting together. She hated the way he looked down at her and winked because it made butterflies swarm free in her stomach and fueled her with unnecessary adrenaline.

"Alright team, let's pack up."

They all made their way across the road and headed over to the truck to start packing up ready to leave.

(Y/n) refrained from sighing when she had to loosen up and slide out of Evan's hold. She let him keep her helmet that he moved to pack into the truck along with his helmet and jacket. A smile danced across her lips as she held her hand out and took the medic bag from Eddie so she could put it back in the compartment along with hers.

She was ready for home.

Once they were back at the station, (Y/n) and Evan would have three more hours to have dinner and maybe join in on one more call out before they could have the rest of the week at home.

Sometimes it felt better to keep working through the week because when she and Evan had the same time off together, (Y/n) didn't know how to act around her roommate. Not when the way she felt for him was moving away from platonic and into something more deadly. At least when they were on shift there was no risk of any feelings getting in the way, they were too busy for that.

(Y/n) brushed her hands over her knees, ridding them of dust and grime before she turned and moved towards the other side of the truck. She grabbed the hose and started to wind it up and clipped it back in place before she shut the compartment and did a quick check. Everything was packed away, they could get going now.

She could hear Hen shouting for her to get in and a smile pulled at her lips as she grabbed the handle and pulled herself up the steps to climb up.

Evan whispered a quiet 'come on' as he patted the vacant seat next to him that was waiting for her. But the radiant, cheesy grin on his features faded the moment an awful bang rung out through the air.

A scream burst past (Y/n)'s lips and her hands coiled up to her head as she dropped to her knees on instinct.

Gunshots.

Someone was shooting at them.

They weren't on a call out for an assailant with a gun. They had sorted out a gas leak in a cafe, they weren't here for any injuries or shootings and no one had been trying to hold a hostage situation nearby. They didn't even have the ambulance with them today because the call out wasn't that serious.

Evan jerked back in his seat, hunching his shoulders and moving his hands mid-air despite not knowing what he was trying to do. He could feel his heart ramming away at his ribcage and his pulse throbbed in his neck but he couldn't catch a proper breath. He could feel Chimney rushing to unclip his belt beside him and it made Evan realise he hadn't done up his own belt yet.

With that thought in mind, Evan jumped forward and slammed down onto his knees in the footwell of the truck. His arms reached out and grabbed (Y/n), reeling her back until she stumbled into him. He could see from the way she dropped down that she hadn't been hurt and when he swept his eyes across her, he couldn't see any blood or wounds and she wasn't screaming out in pain.

"Get down! Get on the floor!" Evan jerked his right arm out and pulled on Eddie's sleeve before he moved to do the same to Hen, trying to drag them both down.

Someone was shooting at them, they needed to cower down in the footwell below the windows so they weren't easy targets. Sitting in their seats made them easy to spot and aim at. (Y/n) had been stood up when the shots started, they might have been aiming for her.

Chimney and Hen went down on their knees and leaned forward with their heads hunkered down low and their hands braced on the seats in front of them.

Eddie snapped his belt off so fast it slammed into the window while he slid off his seat and crouched down. There wasn't enough room for all five of them in the footwell but they rammed together like sardines to try and stay low. Leaning to the left, Eddie braced one arm over his head for cover before he leaned towards the door and grabbed it. He swung it until it snapped shut, caging them all inside safely out the way and hunkered down.

"Bobby-"

"Everybody hold tight!"

Bobby turned the lights on but not the sirens and leaned forward until his head was level with the steering wheel for extra coverage and protection. He didn't think twice before slamming his foot down on the gas to get them moving. Whoever was shooting was aiming for them and they needed to move.

"This is Captain Nash, shots fired! Repeat, shots are being fired we need police assistance. Is anyone hurt?" He did his best to look over his shoulder into the back but when he couldn't see any of them, he looked back at the road and swerved onto a side road to get them out the way.

There was nothing they could do. They couldn't stay and try to see if anyone was injured or hurt or stop the gunman when they seemed to be the targets.

Everyone took a quick glance down at themselves before they looked over at one another. No one seemed to have been hit and one of the windows had smashed but the glass hadn't cut any of them. They had escaped that one safe enough, but it had been close.

For a few more seconds, Evan didn't dare lift his head. He stayed down on his knees with (Y/n) curled over his thighs and his arms bound tight around her middle. He had his lips pressed against the back of her head although he didn't know why or even when he had suddenly done that. And no one else tried to move either. He could feel Chimney slouching against him, Hen had her hand on his shoulder for comfort and to steady herself. And Eddie was squashed in the corner with both his hands braced on the chair in front of him.

When Bobby turned another sharp corner, it felt safe enough for them all to push up and straighten up. But no one attempted to sit on a chair. They all remained on the floor.

"Is anyone hurt? Do I have to make a trip down to the hospital?" Bobby needed an answer. The turning for the hospital was coming up and he could either take that turn, or carry on straight and head back to the station.

Evan slowly reeled up and shuffled around until he was sat down on his bum and not his knees. He leaned his back up against the seat behind him and pulled his knees up which shifted (Y/n) so she was pinned between his knees and his chest.

"(Y/n)? Look at me, are you okay?" He kept one arm around her waist and moved his other hand to cup her jaw so he could turn her head. He tilted her head up so she was facing him.

His baby blue eyes did three turns looking her up and down but he couldn't see any injuries on her. All he could see were her hands still covering her ears and tears drenching her face. And Evan could feel her panicked breaths pushing into his chest, she was breathing like there wasn't enough air in the room and she was trying to stockpile what little oxygen she could.

Shivers bolted up and down (Y/n)'s spine when Evan started to rub his thumb across her chin and up towards her lip. And when he pulled her bottom lip down and leaned closer, she realised she wasn't talking. She wasn't saying anything and that was panicking him.

She couldn't hear him properly when he repeated the same question again, but she forced herself to nod her head. She wasn't hurt. She wasn't shot or hit with anything and she hadn't gotten any glass imbedded in her skin.

But her head was splitting.

Her right ear felt like it had been blown off. It was throbbing and pulsing and her head was starting to pound and sway back and forth like she was being used as a drum. The shot must have been close.

"We're good, Cap."

(Y/n) kept both her hands deadlocked over her ears and leaned forward to smother her face into Evan's shirt. Her breath hitched in her throat when Evan moved his hand down to cup the back of her thigh and she dared not ask what he was doing. She went limp despite her sudden panic and let Evan lift her over so she could sit down between his parted thighs.

He moved his hand to cup the back of her head and his other arm curved around her waist. He rested his chin on top of her head and held his breath for as long as he could so he wasn't panting and gasping anymore.

His eyes flitted over to look at Eddie when he rested his hand on Evan's ankle and patted his leg with a soft expression.

"He nearly shot her."

Evan's voice was so quiet that everyone almost misheard what he'd said. All eyes fell onto him except for (Y/n). And they looked at his hardened expression before their heads turned to see what he was looking at. The window opposite the door was the one that had shattered.

Whoever shot at them had aimed for (Y/n). An inch lower, an inch to the left, if she moved a second slower, there would be a bullet in her head and nothing they could do to save her.

None of them wanted to move when the truck pulled up in the station.

All of them seemed to exchange looks before Eddie sighed and took the plunge. He used the seat behind him as leverage and pushed up to his feet so he could open the door and hop down. He cracked his neck into place and stretched his arms in front of him while he waited for everyone else to follow him out.

Hen patted Evan's shoulder as she climbed over him to get out, followed by Chimney. Hen folded her arms over her chest and rubbed her hands up and down her sleeves to try and calm herself down. Any one of them could have gotten a gunshot wound today.

"We're back," Evan mumbled the words into (Y/n)'s hair before he moved his hands to cup her wrists so he could pull her hands away from her ears.

He hated to see tears streaked down her face and the way she was still struggling to take in a proper breath. Before he could stop himself, Evan leaned forward and kissed her temple.

His hands moved to hold her hips and he tried to smile when (Y/n) gripped his shoulders to try and stand up. He could feel how badly she was shaking once she was stood up and he moved to stand behind her with his hands still on her hips to try and comfort her. They climbed down and moved to stand next to everyone else.

Bobby looked furious.

His hands were on his hips, his foot was tapping against the floor and he moved one hand to drag across his chin before he scratched his nails into the back of his head.

"The police will be down here soon to take statements, and I'll need you all to complete some paperwork for the Chief, but that can wait until tomorrow. Does anyone need to see a counsellor or have a session before you carry on with your shifts?"

The police would no doubt be here within the hour to take statements and talk them all through what happens next. And Bobby would need to fill out an incident report and have everyone make their statements for the paperwork. He could let that wait until tomorrow, until the shock had worn off and everyone felt better.

But they all knew that they had a right to see a councillor or therapist and if they wanted to, they could have an appointment to be cleared to come back to work. Bobby wouldn't want anyone to carry on working if they felt too shaky or unsettled and thought they should talk it through with someone first. Their health and wellbeing came first and they had almost taken a bullet today, it would be understandable if anyone wanted to go home.

Evan clasped his hands together behind his back and kept his eyes on his shoes. He didn't need to talk this through. He needed to sit down before he exploded.

Someone had almost killed his best friend. Someone had taken aim at (Y/n) and they could have seriously injured or killed her. Where would Evan be if the worst had happened? What would he do without her? How would he cope in a world without (Y/n)?

She was the only constant thing in his life. He saw her every morning without fail, she was the first person he saw when he got up and the last person he saw before he closed his eyes at night. Evan didn't want that to change, not for anything in the world and he didn't want any harm to come to her. She was his roommate, his best friend and she meant more to Evan than anyone else ever had.

He couldn't live without her.

"Are you all sure you're okay?"

A chorus of 'yes' and nodding heads filled the air and Bobby waved his hand at them. They all knew what to do. Go get changed, get themselves a drink and try to calm down while he sorted dinner before the station became flooded with police.

(Y/n) closed her eyes for a few seconds when everyone started to disappear and float around the station.

She didn't now what to do. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to collapse and pass out. Her head was spinning so violently she thought it was going to disconnect from her neck.

"I'm gonna hit the gym."

(Y/n) let her eyes drag over to Evan, wincing at how horrible his voice sounded in her right ear. It sounded like she was submerged underwater, trying to hear things above the surface. It was as if Evan was gurgling water in the back of his throat as he talked and the sounded made (Y/n) cringe. She could feel her head swimming and her ear was pounding and pulsing and throbbing all at once.

She knew what he meant by that. He meant he was going to go into the gym and break the equipment. He had ripped the last punching bag they had at the station after a bad fallout with his parents.

Eddie nodded in agreement and they both turned to start making their way towards the gym. But when Evan looked over his shoulder at (Y/n), it was as if they were having a silent conversation. (Y/n) could feel herself begging him not to leave her alone and his eyes told her he wasn't allowing her out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

That was enough for (Y/n) to follow along behind them. She didn't know what else to do with herself. She could follow the boys and watch them in the gym. It would be better than sitting in the bunker room or upstairs on her own, twiddling her thumbs and she knew if she was alone she was at risk of bursting into tears.

Her hand braced out on the truck and she dragged her fingertips along the red paint, using the truck as leverage to keep herself upright as she began to walk.

She felt dizzy.

When they got into the gym, (Y/n) heaved herself over to a bench and slumped down like all her bones had turned to jelly. She flopped forward and let her arms slump on her legs and hung her head down to see if it would relieve her headache and make her ear stop thudding and ringing like a church bell.

"Are you alright?" Evan's hand found her shoulder with a surprisingly strong grip and he gave her a squeeze to make her look up at him. She was surprised to see he had shed his shirt quickly to leave him in his grey vest and trousers.

"Just shaky,"

(Y/n) let her eyes dance over Evan's frame for a while as he began to abuse the punch bag in the corner. She couldn't hear whatever he and Eddie were talking about. Her right ear was starting to turn numb and the ringing was drowning out everything else. She could only hear through her left ear and it was a horrible feeling to feel as if she were broken and useless on one side.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed in the gym, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been half an hour. All she knew was that after a few minutes, she flopped to lay out on the bench.

Eddie and Evan kept glancing her way every now and then but she still had her eyes open and she tried to smile at them to show she wasn't suddenly going to faint or go unconscious.

"You three, come and get something to eat." Bobby's voice was quiet when he poked his head round the door and waved them over.

(Y/n) realised they must have been in there a while because Evan was drenched in sweat and Bobby had found enough time to make lunch.

Her lips curved into a small, tepid smile when Evan stood in front of her hand held his shaky, sweating palms out towards her. His chest was heaving, his hair was flopping about on his head and sweat trickled down his neck and through to his vest, but he didn't care.

She let her hands slide into his and Evan slowly pulled her up to her feet, but (Y/n)'s smile faded when her head started to swim. Her knees trembled and her head flopped forward. She felt dizzy and sick and feverish all at once. But she tried to push those feelings aside when the three of them headed out the gym and trudged towards the stairs.

None of them had much energy and they all walked at their slowest pace, feeling their motivation slipping away with each passing second. They didn't do this job to get shot at. They were firefighters, they were trying to do some good in the world and help people and look out for everyone. Why did they deserve to be shot at? What had they done to upset someone so much?

The three of them walked in a single file line when they got to the stairs and (Y/n) grabbed the rails with both hands, pushing her weight onto her arms to drag herself up.

But the dizziness was starting to get worse and she could feel her breakfast crawling back up her throat.

Halfway up the stairs was too much for (Y/n). Her head started to loll forwards and a wave of tremors rattled through her limbs while her head pounded. Her eardrum thudded, tears splashed down her face and her head started to split apart like a coconut.

"(Y/n)- hey, what's up, what're you doing?" Panic bubbled up through Evan when he watched (Y/n) suddenly lower herself down onto her knees like she was about to pray here on the stairs.

He moved to crouch down behind her, reaching out to grip her waist while he felt Eddie lean over his shoulder to see why they had all stopped.

When (Y/n) folded her arms on the step in front of her and tried to slump her head onto her arms, Evan gently reeled her back. He muttered a quiet 'come here' as he tilted (Y/n) back into his chest. He hated the way she started to tremble in his arms and the way she hid her face into her hands like she was trying to smother herself. It did nothing to stop him from hearing her begin to cry and it made his heart shatter.

But his brows furrowed and he gently pulled her hands away from her face so he could cup her chin. He tilted her head to the left so she was looking away from him and a growl built up in his chest when he noticed a small trickle of blood slithering down from her ear onto her jaw.

"Okay, up we go. I got you."

Evan held (Y/n)'s wrist and looped her arm around the back of his neck before he cupped his left arm around her waist and slid his right arm beneath her knees. He slowly stood up and waited until (Y/n) smothered her face in his chest before he began walking up the stairs again.

His jaw locked tightly and he tried his best to look ahead and ignore the worried looks he got from the rest of the team who were quietly sat around the dining table.

He moved over to the right and headed over to the sofa, crouching down so he could ease (Y/n) down onto the sofa before he sat down beside her.

(Y/n) curled her arms into her chest and slouched back into Evan when his arm draped around her shoulders. He pressed his lips into her hair and started to glide his other hand up and down her arm until Eddie came back over to them with one of their medical kits in hand.

When Eddie perched down in front of (Y/n), Evan slid his hand up from her shoulder to cup her jaw. (Y/n) opened her eyes wide and tried to control her breathing as she wondered what Evan was trying to do. But he gently used her chin to turn her head until her cheek was pressed into her chest so Eddie could see the blood trickling out of her right ear.

"Can I take a look?"

(Y/n) didn't say anything but the soft look in her eyes told Eddie he could go ahead.

He used a cotton swab to clean away the blood before he shone a light in her ear. His fingertips pressed behind her ear, down her neck and across her jaw to see when she would wince or flinch away from his touch. He then pressed a thermometer under her tongue and flashed the light across her eyes.

"I think the shot burst your eardrum… you were the closest to it. You need to get some antibiotics and go home, it's gonna take a while to heal."

Eddie winced when (Y/n) began to cry and he turned to look over his shoulder and wave Bobby across to them.

There was nothing a doctor could do for (Y/n) except make sure she didn't get it infected. It would heal up on its own within two months, hopefully. (Y/n) would need to rest, take antibiotics and make sure not to get her ear wet at all for a few weeks.

She turned her head further to the side and cried into Evan's chest, shaking harder when she felt his hand slide up from her jaw to tangle in her hair at the back of her head.

"It's okay… shh, it's alright. I'm taking you home."

***

A sigh bubbled past Evan's lips when he shut the front door behind him. He let his shoulders slump down and tilted his head back, closing his eyes when he heard that unmistakeable sound.

(Y/n) was throwing up. Again.

He tossed his keys on the side and headed through into the kitchen, dumping his bag down on the counter before he backtracked and headed over towards the bathroom.

He had never been more pleased that the bathroom in their apartment was downstairs. It meant while (Y/n) was laid up on the couch for the last few days, she didn't have to struggle getting up and down the stairs to rush to the bathroom when she felt sick. But he wished she wasn't throwing up so much. Evan wished she could start to feel better.

For the last four days, he had seen (Y/n) eat two meals a day and proceed to throw all of it back up again. He thought it was too good to be true that she had eaten tea last night and lunch today without being sick.

He tapped his knuckles on the door before he nudged it open and stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. He leaned his back up against the door and let his head flop to the right as he looked down at (Y/n).

She was knelt on the floor, hunched over the toilet with her forehead slumped down on her arms.

"I take it you don't feel any better?" He mumbled quietly and raised his brows when (Y/n) turned away from the toilet. She could barely keep her eyes open and a subtle tremble had set in all over her body.

(Y/n) turned on her knees and shuffled over until she could use the sink as leverage to pull herself up. But the moment she was stood up, her legs started to shake and her head rattled like someone was using her head as a bowling ball. Her knees quaked and pressed up against the sink and her hands gripped the edge as she let herself slide down just a little until her head was slumped forward into the bowl.

She tried to rinse her mouth with mouthwash but the sensation made her ear feel like it was popping and drowning in water. She spat it out and cringed, bowing her head even further to stop herself from crying. She had cried enough over the last four days but she couldn't seem to stop.

Her head was pounding unless she was asleep and as much as she tried, (Y/n) couldn't sleep the days away as well as the nights. She hated listening to music or the tv when one ear was working and the other was turned down and noises came through hazy and bubbling. She had to have the tv on volume seven because any louder made her cry.

The shot had unbalanced the fluids in her ears and that was making it hard for (Y/n) to keep her balance and stay upright. She felt like she was always swaying and sliding to one side when she stood upright and every time she tried to move around, she ended up being sick.

"Alright, come here."

Evan cupped his hands over her hips and stood behind her but when he turned her around to face him, he watched her lips fall into a frown and she wouldn't meet his gaze. Her forehead tipped down into his chest and her hands gripped his arms even though she didn't want to.

"You can't carry me everywhere, Evan." (Y/n) didn't want to rely on Evan like this. She didn't want him to have to help her up and down the stairs and make dinner for her when they usually shared the cooking. She didn't like relying on him like this, it wasn't fair.

"Yes I can. You're not well, that means I gotta look after you. So let me."

(Y/n) let herself go limp so Evan could move her easily. He cupped her wrists and lifted her arms to curl them around his neck. Then his hand moved down to hold her chin and he bent his knees to lower himself down so he could rest (Y/n)'s head on his shoulder.

His hands cupped the back of her exposed thighs and he lifted her up with ease, securing her legs around his torso so she was sitting on his hips. He kept one arm around her bum, she was light and easy enough to carry with one arm so he didn't know why she objected so much to him carrying her around. It wasn't like she was forcing him to help her; he wanted to. He was desperate to help her.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and nuzzled her face into Evan's neck, smiling when she felt Evan's lips against the top of her head. Something he had been doing a lot over the last few days.

He headed into the kitchen, grabbed the bag he had come back with and then turned around to go down into the living room.

When he reached the sofa, Evan dug his hand into (Y/n)'s thigh and leaned forward so he could ease her down. He found himself smiling when he watched her curl her knees up to her stomach and saw how she burrowed into the pillows she had collected down here to be more comfortable.

"What's in the bag?" (Y/n) let her head sink into one of the pillows and she bound her arms around her chest, turning to face Evan when he sat down next to her. But he didn't sink back into the seat like he normally would, he sat on the edge of the sofa with his knees bent out to the sides and his elbows on his thighs.

"I got Eddie to grab me a few bits from the station."

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes, about to smile at him until she watched what he started to get out the bag and place down on the coffee table.

"Evan no-"

Her lips pressed together firmly and she leaned back in her seat when he turned to face her. The way he tilted his head to the side and rose a brow made her shiver, but it was his jaw that locked and ground from side to side that made the adrenaline ignite in (Y/n)'s stomach. And when he moved his hand to point a finger at her, she almost gasped.

"Now you listen to me, you're dehydrated and you're still being sick. So you either suck it up and let me help you, or I will carry you to the car and take you down to the emergency room. So which is it sweetheart?"

The pet name rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself or even realise what he had said and it made (Y/n) turn to jelly despite the pain rolling through her head. She loosened her arms from her chest and flopped her arm onto his thigh as a sign of giving in to him.

"Good girl."

Evan picked up one of the two saline bags Eddie had packed for him. He knew (Y/n) would be sick again today, he just had a gut feeling that she wouldn't be able to keep anything down and she hadn't been drinking enough either. So he rang Eddie this morning and asked him to grab a few IV bags from inventory, some stronger pain meds and some supplement sachets.

He knew (Y/n) wouldn't want to go to hospital, it would take a few hours for them to get through the emergency room onto a ward to get any help in the first place. But if he could keep (Y/n) at home with him and help her himself, the Evan would do everything he could for her.

(Y/n) dared to shuffle a bit closer so she could tilt her head forward and press her nose into his arm which made him smile.

He ripped open an antiseptic wipe and dabbed it across the back of (Y/n)'s hand that was stretched out on his thigh. He could feel (Y/n) pressing her face further into his bicep while she closed her eyes. She didn't do well with needles.

"Here we go," He whispered quietly, daring to let his eyes dart over to her for a second before he moved his attention back to her hand.

He slid the needle into the first vein he found and moved to grab the IV cap that he clipped onto the end while (Y/n) groaned and pinched her nails into his thigh. Not that Evan minded at all. Once a bit of tape was stuck over it, he grabbed a roll of bandage and started to wind it around her hand. He knew exactly what she was like. She would scratch and pull and mess with the tube until the needle came out.

Once it was in place, Evan checked the wire was straight and running free before he flipped the cap to let the fluids flush wide open. He wanted the saline in her system as fast as possible because she was dehydrated and she needed a boost.

"Eddie found some painkillers, they should take away your headaches."

"I don't think I can keep them down."

"Ah, no this is the good stuff." Evan flashed the small bottle when (Y/n) turned her head so her cheek was pressed against his shoulder. He told Eddie not to bring tablets because (Y/n) would throw them up.

Evan grabbed a new needle, filled it with the right dosage and injected it into the spare cap on the IV tube. This would go straight into (Y/n)'s system so she wouldn't throw it up and it would help her feel better. He didn't want to see her crying in pain any longer, he just wanted to make her feel better.

"Thank you." (Y/n) left her bandaged hand on Evan's lap but she moved her right hand to curl around his arm she was leaning against. Her lips pressed to his shoulder and she smiled against his skin until she looked up and realised he looked perplexed.

"You don't need to thank me."

"Evan, you've been looking after me-"

"I look after you because I want to, but I wouldn't need to if some fucker didn't try and take a shot at you. He nearly killed you and I can't… I can't lose you."

Evan slumped back against the sofa and reached his free hand to tangle through his hair. He let his body slouch down and tipped his head back on the cushion to stare up at the ceiling. He wouldn't be taking care of (Y/n) like this if he didn't want to, he would do anything for her. But he would rather be taking care of her when she was sick from a cold or an illness. Not because someone thought they had the right to try and shoot them.

If things had been different, a few seconds later, if (Y/n) didn't move at the right time or if she was a little slower. If that gun had been aimed more to the left, she would be in a coffin right now and Evan would be inconsolable.

"You won't lose me, Evan. I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here," (Y/n) dared to move her hand up from his arm to brush her thumb across his chin. She tilted his head so he was looking at her, so he could see her smile and know that she was here. She wasn't going anywhere. She had a lucky escape five days ago but nothing like that would happen again.

Her fingers tickled the side of his jaw, feathering up and down until he was shuddering beneath her gentle touch. The more her fingers grazed his skin, the less resolve Evan had until he finally broke and pushed forward.

His hand cupped her jaw and skimmed across her neck before he leaned across and kissed her.

He'd dreamed about doing this.

She was his best friend. She was his roommate. She was his partner on the job. But Evan wanted her to be so much more. Evan wanted (Y/n) to be everything in the world to him, his friend, the one he lived with, the girl he kissed and came home to every night. Because she already held his heart in her hands and he never wanted it back.

He pulled her lower lip between his teeth and drank her in, panting against her lips until he was seeing stars and the ringing in (Y/n)'s ears drowned out into nothing but background noise.

He felt her hand move around from his jaw to loop around his neck while her other hand shifted up from his thigh to rest on his chest so she could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Evan slipped his hands down until his fingers could slide beneath her legs and grip the back of her bare thighs were her pyjama shorts had ridden up her legs. He lifted her thighs up and dragged her across the small distance between them that felt like an ocean was keeping them apart. He pulled until her knees were clamped down on either side of his hips and she sank back on his thighs.

And when (Y/n) pulled back to try and gasp for air, Evan cupped her wrist and moved her hand up from his chest to loop it around the back of his neck. Along with the IV tube so he didn't squeeze it and stop the fluids from getting into her system.

His hand moved around to hold the back of her neck while his other hand shifted up from her thigh to grab her bum. He kept her leaning down on his chest and he smiled when he looked up and saw a dazed look in her hooded eyes.

(Y/n) scratched her nails against the short hairs at the back of his neck until Evan was clenching his jaw and he pulled her back down onto him.

(Y/n) could feel herself going lightheaded again, especially when Evan seemed to draw all the air out of her lungs and gulp it down for himself. His warm lips smothered hers and bit her lower lip until he was going to leave a bruise in his wake, but (Y/n) didn't care. She didn't want him to stop. She could feel him muttering something against her mouth but he spoke far too quietly for her to hear.

"Hm?"

"You're right. You're not going anywhere."

#evan buckley x reader #imagine #evan buckley #911 imagine #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #bucky x reader #bobby nash

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 7 months

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Shut Up And Cuddle Me - Lando Norris

Apart from your bed, the couch was the comfiest item of furniture in your apartment. When you were sat on the couch, whether it be watching TV, or reading a book, you always found yourself falling asleep as you sunk into the plushness of it.

Right now was no exception, as your eyelids grew heavy, your book flopped down into your lap as you let sleep engulf you. The silence of your home made it easier for sleep to lull you in, and you figured you'd wake up by the time Lando arrived home.

Later that day, Lando opened the door and kicked his shoes off in the entrance hall of your apartment. "Baby?" He called out, the lack of a response worrying him slightly. Normally, you'd text him if you weren't going to be home.

"Baby?" he called out again, a bit louder this time. His eyes scanned the apartment, before all of his worries fizzled away when he saw the curled up lump under the blankets on the couch. He lightly padded over, silently sitting down next to you on the couch.

He allowed his eyes to trace over your features and every perfect indent of your face. All he could hear was the quiet huff of your feather-light breaths that gently blew the hair resting next to your face. He liked these moments: having you safe and sound where nothing could harm you.

"Are you going to keep staring at me?" you mumbled, keeping your eyes closed as you shifted. In reality, you had woken up as soon as he had called out for you, but you couldn't be bothered to move. "Yeah, I think I will," he nodded with a smirk, before realising, "Shit I didn't wake you up, did I?" he sheepishly asked.

"Yeah, you did," you dead-panned, opening one of your eyes to look at him. He was always handsome, but he was a lovely sight for sleepy eyes. "Sorry, I didn't know-" he started, sounding slightly panicked. "Don't worry, it's fine," you huffed, shuffling around some more.

"But you were sleeping, and you were so peaceful, and I interrupted that," he carried on, tucking the strands of loose hair behind your ear gently. "Honestly, it doesn't matter," you told him, closing your eye again. "But I-"

"Lando, just shut up and cuddle me if you feel that bad," you teased, and you didn't have to tell him twice. Anytime you said the word, Lando would stop whatever he was doing to wrap his arms around you and hold you until he had to let you go.

"I can do that," he agreed, as you shimmied forward and he slotted in behind you. He draped your blanket back over the both of you as his arms slotted around your waist and your legs tangled together like pieces of a puzzle.

"Wake me up when it's time for dinner," you instructed, pushing yourself into him as much as you could. Lando gently kissed your head, before muttering a soft, "OK," as he let himself sink into the couch as he held you.

His fingers subconsciously trailed over your arm, the soothing gesture more like an instinct than a conscious action. Sure, the couch was comfy, but even sleeping on the floor would be made comfier if you had Lando snuggling you like his life depended on it.

A/N - I was scrolling through my Lando pinterest board and jesus I am slacking on my love for this man. He was always in my top 3 without question, but damn I think I'm blind. Lando girlies, where are you at? Also this is one of my favourite Lando photos... Requests are open, by the way. Drop anything you want, from the sweetest to the smuttiest 😉

|masterlist|

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kakushino · 7 months

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Knot Enough

Werewolf! Tomioka Giyuu x AFAB! Reader

Giyuu is hit by an unanticipated rut.

Tags: smut, in heat/rut, pheromones acting as aphrodisiac, knotting [& creampie (obviously)], possessiveness Word count: 2,4k

Masterlist

It was the start of an extended weekend - holiday on Thursday and you took Friday off - and you were happy to finally catch up on your anime binging. All was peaceful, you were in just your panties and an oversized shirt for comfort; you got through two episodes so far, you were stocked up on snacks and drinks, content to spend three days alone before your date with your new boyfriend, Giyuu.

You had met Giyuu through a friend of a friend and you hit it off very quickly. You just sort of… clicked together, like missing puzzle pieces, or soulmates or whatever. It was three months in, and you couldn’t be happier. You hadn’t yet passed the kissing stage, but Giyuu seemed a little shy, which was perfectly fine. It wasn’t as if either of you were uncontrollable horny teens.

You were in the middle of watching a mage and his apprentice acquire a grim familiar during a tension filled-scene when your doorbell rang.

“Fuck-!” you were so into it, the noise nearly made you jump out of your skin. Pausing the episode and putting your snacks on the coffee table, you padded over to the front door. The peeking hole showed you your boyfriend with a troubled expression. Worried, you quickly opened it. “Giyuu?”

The sound of your voice snapped him from a trance and his fever-bright eyes met yours. A smile spread on his face and slight blush decorated his cheeks when he walked forward without asking to come in. Unusual.

“Is everything okay?” The door closed.

Your boyfriend didn’t respond, kicking off his shoes - another odd thing, he was a very neat person - and tugging you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply. A shudder seemed to go through him the moment he took you in.

He spoke at last. “I know we’ve only just started dating,” he started in a low rasp. The sound of his voice so close to your ear sent goosebumps crawling across your whole body. “But my rut just arrived and I-” he cut himself off with a sharp exhale, his nose touching the side of your neck when he took a deep breath again.

You were beyond confused. “...rut? What do you mean?”

Giyuu’s arms wound even tighter around your form. It was a bad time to start explaining but he needed to, he needed you to understand and to act - to help him. “I’m not human.”

You could only gasp. “What are you-?”

“I’m a wolf at times… and this wolf affects me even in human form. I need to-” he shuddered again, his lips gliding down your neck to where your shoulder met it. He licked the spot, trying to stem his hunger for you. “Please let me- let me fuck you,” he said in a breathy voice.

His desperation sent a flare of desire throughout your entire body. Your mind reeled with his admission. This whole scenario reminded you of the monster porn you read once or twice, but what did it mean for you?

“Please,” he begged hoarsely, one of his hands pushing on the small of your back to press your belly against the bulge in his pants.

Giyuu had never begged you before, he'd never expressed himself so boldly before. Just because of that, you were leaning towards giving in.

It didn't help that he smelled so good.

"Okay."

No sooner had that word left your lips, his own slotted against yours in a deep and desperate kiss that stole your breath away.

He backed you up against the wall, his hands holding your hips to grind against you and yours in his hair, the leather cord he used to tie it coming loose quickly as you lightly tugged on it. He released a sinful moan into the kiss, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

Giyuu guided you both to the bedroom - you later wondered how he knew which room it was - tugging at your oversized shirt, clearly wanting it off, an impossible feat without pulling back from the kiss.

Just when you thought he would give in and tear it in off, he actually did let you discard it peacefully.

Your panties did not receive the same tender care.

With a growl of "I'll buy you some later," he laid you onto the bed tucking himself between your legs. One of his arms supported his weight by your head, the fingers of the other impatiently delving into your pussy to prepare you as soon as possible. One, two, three digits stretched you out in a quick manner while all you could do was sigh and moan softly, your eyes locked onto each other as you quivered under his form, mind hazy.

Giyuu had wanted to take his time on your first night… before his rut hit him. Now, he just wanted to eat you alive.

“I want you,” Giyuu whispered breathlessly. “I need you.”

You nodded shakily, still trying to find your bearings from the stretch of your pussy on his fingers. He pulled them away, making you gasp at the emptiness, your muscles clenching around nothing as you heard his belt buckle open.

The sound of it had never been so enticing before.

You blinked slowly and looked at him.

You weren’t a virgin, but you had never seen a cock like his - thick and long and so, so pretty, with a strange swelling around the middle. But a brief glance was all you could get before he was onto you, kissing you deeply, sloppily. He was in a daze, his eyes half-lidded.

“Lovie, gods, I need you-”

Giyuu lined himself up against your entrance and slid in slowly, the stretch of his tip entering you feeling so much more than his three fingers, even if it didn’t seem like it. “F-fuck, slow- slow downngh-”

He immediately stopped and pulled away from your face, eyes glistening with unshed tears, guilt and anguish clear in his expression. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking so wounded as if he were the one being speared open with a cock.

You breathed through the burn, your hands cupping his cheeks gently. “Just go slower okay? I’m not- it’s just been a while,” you reassured him.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you,” he leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours. “Please forgive me, lovie.”

Your thumbs caressed his face softly as you murmured, “You’re fine, Giyuu. You just need to go slow, okay? Can you do that for me?”

He closed his eyes, and hummed in agreement, sliding more of himself in slowly, as you’d told him to. He kissed you in an unhurried passion, enjoying you - your taste, your heat, your body against his.

The burn wasn’t as bad this time, though as you threaded your fingers in his hair, you had to grip it tight when the swelled middle started to slide in. You broke away from him to breathe, clenching your eyes shut as Giyuu murmured apology after apology, peppering many soothing kisses all over your face and then-

Giyuu slipped in in his entirety, eliciting a deep groan from his throat. He’d swear later it was an accident, that he’d mean to just force his knot in faster so you wouldn't hurt so much, but he miscalculated how slippery you were. And Gods, your cunt was so snug around his cock, he could hardly breathe.

You could hardly breathe. So full. So hot. A fever spreading from your belly out to your fingertips - but not unpleasant. It felt good. The pain and burn faded instantly when you buried your face in Giyuu’s neck, breathing in the musky smell of his sweat. It made your mouth water and you couldn’t resist placing an open mouthed kiss on his pulse point, your tongue slipping out to taste him.

His breath hitched, his hips bucked, and you threw your head back with a low moan when he hit the sweet spot inside of you with his cock.

“Fuck- sorry, lovie,” he apologized in a strained voice, trying to stay still. “Are you o-okay?”

You only nodded shakily. “Please, mo-move.” You forced your hands to stop gripping his hair so much, keeping only one hand there while another cupped his cheek.

Your eyes locked with his as he started to rock into you gently.

Giyuu’s face was flushed, sweat beading at his temples, lips parted to pant, eyes glazed over with an unnatural brightness. You probably looked no better, a mess underneath your lover.

He kept panting and moaning softly, and this was the most expressive you'd ever seen or heard your boyfriend be. The vulnerability he showed you made you feel as if you would crack open - your heart so full it could not be contained-

“I love you.”

The words slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself. His eyes seemed to glow with happiness, and he sped up his thrusts. Your hands fell from him to grip onto his forearms.

“I love you, I love you-Iloveyou-” Each time he bottomed out, you repeated your feelings, and each time, he went faster until nothing other than moans and whines could escape you.

Why did this feel more intense than anything you’d ever felt before? Why did it feel like you’d spiral any second? Why did it feel like you couldn’t get enough, that you wanted more of him, have him deeper, make him carve you out from the inside until no one else could fit but him?

It was a heady mix of greed and lust and gluttony for Giyuu, the not-human, the wolf.

“Pl-ease-! Ah!”

You could hardly believe the sounds leaving your throat, high pitched whines and animalistic keening, which only seemed to spur Giyuu on to be rougher with you. He kept eye contact with you still, his hands gripping the fabric of your pillow above your shoulders tightly, his wrists leaning against you to keep you from sliding away from his thrusts.

“Ghi-yuu-ngh-”

His lips slipped open even more, in awe of how beautifully he disintegrated your composure; dew beaded at your lash line, your eyebrows furrowed, eyes half-lidded as you babbled his name, begged and told him how you loved him.

And oh how he loved you too.

He was going to keep you as his forever. Your cunt was too good for him, you were too good for him. Your scent called to him. He needed you.

More, more, more.

Not enough.

Giyuu fucked you like the beast he was, chasing his pleasure and getting drunk off of yours. This was the first heat he’d been even tempted to sink into the core of his partner and Gods, it felt so good. He’d never be able to not fuck you during his heat.

Thankfully, his heats happened only once or twice a year…

He pulled back slightly, slowing the fucking temporarily so he could put both of your legs over his shoulders before he picked up his earlier pace again. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his sharp nails - claws - digging into your skin. You could no longer keep your eyes locked into his, turning your head away and clenching your eyes shut, tears of pleasure falling, when he slightly changed the angle and rubbed along your sweet spot repeatedly. You let out a hoarse whimper.

“Lo-lovie, if you get- fuck- if you get any tighter - hah - I won’t be able to pull out-” he choked out, yet he did not let up. Deep down, he knew he would not be able to hold himself back. He needed to give you all he had, he needed to fill you with his love.

You clawed at the mattress, trying to find purchase, not knowing if you wanted to escape from the ecstasy or if you wanted more. Something threatened to snap in your gut, Giyuu didn’t seem to care as he pounded into you. “Plea-se-!”

Your voice was music to his ears; if he could, he would hone his wolf ears onto you for eternity. “What is it, l-lovie?”

“I- I c-can’t- plea-se- please!” you begged, not knowing what for - but you wanted it, you wanted something.

Your wolf knew though. “I’ve got y-you… you can l-let go, lovie-” One of his hands left your hips to push on your belly, making you infinitely tighter. A mistake, or perfection?

The bubble burst in the next slam of his hips against your ass. You keened, arching your back, more tears escaping your eyes. You were afloat, mind unable to handle any other stimuli than what erupted from your core; your ears rang, stars burst behind your eyelids, your mouth hung open.

A strange vibration reverberated through your body, then sharp heat inside of you, and a slight burn from being stretched. Your brain registered that that couldn’t be right, but you could not focus on anything at all.

Giyuu was in heaven, his knot locked inside of you, his seed filling you up, and you lost in pleasure. There was no better place to be than right where he was - inside you, around you, with you. You, you, you, only you. Your scent enveloped him in a heady atmosphere and his teeth ached with need to sink into your neck, your shoulder. He wanted to truly make you his own.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn't, not without your explicit consent.

He already felt like he'd preyed on you as is, not pulling out, using you like this… he needed to make it up to you somehow.

He needed to show you he could be your forever partner, he needed to show you he could be your future.

He lowered your legs from his shoulders to cradle his waist instead, half-laying on you, soaking up your presence in the post-orgasmic bliss. It distantly occurred to him that his rut had not yet passed, the feverish heat still burning in his gut. He didn't even know how long he'd need to wait for his knot to deflate… before he needed to fuck you again, and again, and again.

"Are you okay?" Giyuu asked at last when the both of you caught your breaths.

You hummed in affirmation, sore all over, throat hoarse as if you'd been at a concert all night. Your arms loosely embraced him as you cooled down a little. "So… not human, huh?"

He flinched. "I have some explaining to do."

dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear

#I NEED Giyuu to knot me okay #I NEED him period #giyuu my beloved #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #smut #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x you #tomioka giyuu x reader #kny #kny x reader #demon slayer 2023 monster october #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #sub!reader #sub reader #kakushino

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teeny-tiny-revenge · 1 year

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We don't talk about the insane amount of chemistry Stede and Ed have enough. Like, anytime they're on screen together they just fit. Honestly that's what sold me on this ship, like, immediately. I was late to the party; I knew they were a romantic pairing when I started watching. I'm also very ace, and romance in shows often just loses me, because they like to focus on how attracted the characters are and nothing else and it makes my brain bluescreen. But this? Have you fucking seen them? From their first actual conversation in Episode 4 on, they just click. They have so much chemistry. It bowled me right the fuck over. "Oh, it's this type of relationship, one of those magical times when you meet someone and you're just on the same wavelength." Two puzzle pieces slotting right into place. From the get go, they just bounce off each other. They compliment each other just right.

I love the way they had Mary describe love to Stede at the end of the season, because, yeah, that's it, but also, that's been what they were written and acted as all the way from the beginning. Mary's speech clicks with Stede because that's exactly what his relationship with Ed was from the start. We've seen several episodes of them representing this description perfectly. They understand each other, find things about each other charming and interesting that turn other people in their acquaintance away. They enjoy a lot of the same things, yes, but they also just... enjoy things in the same manner. That's part of what I mean by they're on the same wavelength. They are delighted by Stede's model ship and his fancy fabrics and his hidden closet, and by the theatrics of a good fuckery. They have fun together, and they have fun because the other one has fun. This is a couple who genuinely enjoy each other, who can just hang out and talk for hours about inane things and weirdly specific niche interests, and that's my jam right there. You can just see them enjoying spending time together in all areas of life, and that's so rare to see?

It also makes me more optimistic for whatever will happen in season two, because yeah, things look bleak right now, and yes, they hurt each other and they'll have to heal and regrow their trust and all that, but this foundation of just being so good together, this two perfect puzzle pieces chemistry, that's still there, and they'll find that again once they move a bit past the hurt. It's very very difficult to stay mad with someone who is this much on your frequency, who finishes your thoughts and sentences and almost effortlessly just gets you.

#ofmd #ofmd meta #ed teach #stede bonnet #teeny rambles #season 2 speculation

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avocado-writing · 6 months

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Kinktober 30

30. Double Penetration, Hotdogging, Gape/Fisting

The first time they were both inside you is a memory that you hold dear.

It was early in your relationship, but not immediate. You think the two of them were worried about hurting you. There was a validity to it: you were human, and they weren’t sure what they could do to your body that would cause pleasure without pain.

Turns out, quite a lot. You like it rough.

Tonight, they’re tucked in against you. Crowley has snagged one of your arms in his grip and won’t let go, Aziraphale is nuzzled into your side with his lips resting against your shoulder. You can’t sleep, not yet, so you let your mind wander back to that first time as you caress them both while they slumber.

You’re trapped between them, as you often are - oh, how they love to share you. What a testament it is to their love, to be like this.

Aziraphale presses inside you first. They’ve spent a long time fucking you with their fingers, scissoring you open as if they knew tonight was going to be the night. You’re dripping with sensual oil and your own arousal as the angel finds your hole and pushes with the blunt head of his cock; he slides in easily. He always does. A perfect fit, slotting as if two pieces of a puzzle. You moan and sigh with delight at the feeling of being full.

“There we are, my dear. Gorgeous. I’ll never have enough of you, never.”

You kiss your angel full and slow on the lips, letting your hand trail down his chest, feeling the fullness of his pectoral, the rough tug of his coarse hair there.

Moving from his mouth for just a moment, you toss a look over your shoulder to Crowley, and raise an eyebrow at him along with a challenge.

“Come on, Crowley,” you whisper, “I’m sure you can fit too.”

His pupils blow out with lust and he palms himself, but you can see there’s a hint of trepidation.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you, nightingale.”

You laugh, a deep, sensual and thick thing, tossing your head back with the joy of being loved and fucked.

“Darling, it will take more than two cocks to break me. Come on. I want to feel you fuck me, together.”

How can he turn down an invitation like that? Under the watchful eyes of you and your angel, Crowley drizzles a little more oil onto himself, massaging his length until he’s shiny and slick. He nudges your knees further apart so he can better mould himself to the curve of you, press his chest against your back. He’s warm, gorgeously warm.

You feel his head bump against your full hole. Aziraphale lets out a small fluttery sigh as Crowley dips a finger in you, pulling you a little further open to allow himself proper access to you. Soon it is replaced with his length beginning to fill you up too.

The stretch is delicious. It is mouth-watering. You’re glad there’s one either side of you, or you’re certain that you’d collapse to the bed. Crowley’s thin frame keeps you pinned up against Aziraphale’s softness as he inches into you, revelling in the feeling of his member pressing against the angel’s.

“Fuck–you’re–you’re both…” he trails off as he forces himself in further, and your body moves to accommodate him. Before long he is totally engulfed by you and the three of you still for a moment. Your pulse thrums through your body like an erratic drum, pounding out the beat of your arousal. You feel the two of them jostle against each other as they utterly fill you. It is a sinful stretch and yet one, now you’ve had a taste of, you know you will never get tired of having.

“Fuck me, please,” you manage. They can do nothing but bend to your will. Slowly, with shallow little thrusts to match each other, to feel each other’s cocks pump, they begin to fuck you in tandem. They press up inside, stroking your velvet walls and hitting that spot which drives you wild. All you can do is melt into them.

“Nightingale?”

“Hmm?”

“Nightingale?”

You turn sleepily and see Crowley has woken up. He narrows his sleepy eyes at you, dressing you down.

“What are you thinking about? I can tell it’s something naughty,” he asks with a grin, voice quiet so as to not wake Aziraphale. You sigh and tangle him in a kiss before plopping down on his chest as a pillow.

“Just a fond memory, my love.”

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler

@darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

#fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #avo’s kt23

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eyesxxyou · 9 months

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Strawberries & Cigarettes

★🍓 {} .. hobie brown x ballerina!reader

rating. mature

word count. 3.4k

synopsis. no one believes that someone like you and someone like Hobie belong together. Your love is messy, chaotic, and painful, but it's caring, honest, and beautiful as well.

🚬・．❕ warning. y/n is a mess, self-harm, eating disorder, but of a toxic relationship, y/n has some problems up there 🧠, fighting, a LOT of angst

Anyone looking at you and Hobie would tell you that the two of you don’t belong together, that your puzzle pieces don’t slot in together just perfectly like they’re supposed to. You’re two pieces from entirely different puzzles. You world is filled with grace, with pink satin and pearl earrings, pink lip tints, and delicate tutus. You dance to the classics, from a tour en l’air to a royale and everything between and beyond.

Hobie rocks out. He’s covered spikes and he isn’t just the bark, he’s the bite as well. He’s the tear in the satin you adored so much, he kissed the tint off your lips, and was the one to get you those pearl earrings through nefarious means you’d rather not ask about. He stomped his feet to Black Flag and would force you to listen to the Sex Pistons for the rest of time if you didn’t make so much of a fuss about it.

Yes, you two were pieces from different puzzles who had no reason to be anywhere near each other. But your pieces somehow managed to snuggle in nicely with each other and create a whole new picture despite your differences because you aren’t all soft and full of innocent delicacies. You’re feet are often bruised and bloody, your hands tremble from all the cigarettes you burn to keep your appetite down, there are deep bags under your eyes that you cover with concealer before you leave the house, and there’s a deep melancholy about the way you go through the world. You dance until you physically can’t anymore, until your body screams at you to stop, until your feet leave streaks of blood across the waxed floor of the studio. You need to be slim, small— shoulders down, chin up, chest out, perfect.

And Hobie— though rough around his edges— can be soft in his own way.

Those at the studio know him vaguely. They know he’s your boyfriend, knows he comes to the studio about 2 hours after your class ends because you always stay later than everyone else and work on the choreography over and over until you physically can’t anymore. They know he’s the only reason you’re still alive. They know that he loves you to hell and back and simply can’t understand why.

So when they seem him, 6’5” with wildly beautiful hair, littered in spikes and piercings, and a unapproachable look to him (the only thing about the two of you that match), they don’t pay him any mind as he makes his way to the studio you’re usually in.

The music’s so loud you don’t hear the door open and you’re so focused on your own reflection in the mirror, making sure you hit every move with the precision and sharpness of a knife without losing any of the grace of the performance, that you don’t see Hobie standing there, watching you in all your beauty.

At least you’re not trembling this time. The last time, Hobie was caught up with something and couldn’t come check on you until much later. He found you here, in a ball on the floor, shaking and half-passed out. It could have been a number of things but did didn’t matter much which on of them it was. He had to pick you up, take you home because you refused to go to the hospital, and nurse you back to health.

Once the music came to an end and you closed your dance in a pose filled with poise and beauty, Hobie began to clap for you, startling you off the boxes of your slippers. You had the reflexes of a cat, swift and agile. You got startled just like one too. “You asshole,” you murmur as he comes over, his boots making a horrible squealing sound against the floor as he does so.

Hobie wrapped his arms around your waist and made eye contact with you through the reflection in the wall-length mirror. His lips pepper soft kisses against your exposed collarbones. “Didn’ mean t’ scare ya, doll.” He loves the way you lean into him but hates the way he isn’t sure if it’s because you want to be closer to him or if your body simply doesn’t have the energy to hold itself up. “Checkin’ in a lil’ early today. You weren’ answerin’ ya phone so I had to come ‘n make sure you weren’ dead.” He plays it off as a joke but you both know he’s more than serious. Your habits will kill you one day and you both know it.

You turn around in his arms, your fingers locked together behind his neck before they stroke the skin under his collar. “Sorry– forgot to take it off of silent after class.” You stand on your toes, feet arching because your scuffed slippers force you to as you stand on the box again. Hobie leans in to kiss you as you pull him in and press your lips against his. You taste like strawberries and cigarettes as always, a mixture of your lipgloss and what you had for breakfast today. Your body arches into his as he holds you tight and kisses you deeply.

“What ‘ave you eat’n t’day?” Hobie asks you, hoping the kiss will lighten the sour mood that question always puts you in. “Coffee ‘n a cigarette don’ count by the way. I mean somethin’ you put in ya mouth, chewed, and swallowed.” He adds on quickly before you get the chance to say what he knows you will and with him eliminating 80% of your entire diet, you remain silent and pull away from him.

Hobie grabs your hand before you can fully retract from him. “Come on, le’s go eat, luv.” And you pull your hand from his. You know better than to fight him on this because it will lead to an argument about your diet in which he’ll say what he always says, “A diet still requires that you eat somethin!” His accent becoming all the thicker.

“Just lemme go one more time first.” You request him to grant you just one more go at the choreography. You feel that you were so close, so so close to perfection though anyone in the building will tell you that you have nothing more to improve on. That’s the thing about you. You nitpick the smallest things and when there’s absolutely nothing wrong about your performance, you’ll make something up. And with a recital just days away, all your worst habits were double as bad. Hobie knew your cycle well. Dance yourself to the edge of death before a recital, usually fall into a depressive episode immediately after the recital because you feel like you somehow fucked up in front of hundreds of people when you were perfect by all standard, and then once he finally convinced you that there was nothing wrong with your performance, the was the grace period in which Hobie could convine you to eat at least a meal a day and to give your brutalized feet a rest. Until it was time for another recital. Then it starts all over again.

He knew your process like he knew his own face and he knew exactly how to disrupt it.

“No– No more t’day, luv. Get ya tings so we can go.” He isn’t particularly gentle in his tone. As said before, a bit rough around the edges. “Don’ fight me on this one. No’ t’day.” His eyes are firm as he looks at you, tells you he’s not going to give this up, even if it starts some shit between the two of you which it undoubtedly always does. He knows you, maybe better than you know yourself. It’s always “one more” until you’re on the floor with bruised, blistered, and bleeding feet, blackened knees from falling, and scraped palms from your delicate hands hitting the ground. And he’s always there to clean you up because that’s just what love is.

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “Whatever.” But you comply, you brush past him as you make your way to your bag. You sit on the floor and Hobie follows suit with you, grabbing your ankle delicately and pulling it towards him as his long, slender fingers pull the ribbons you had tied so tightly around your ankles. He sees the bandages he's wrapped around your feet began to let a few dapples of blood through. He could see your grimace, the way you tried to hide it like you weren't in pain. He made a mental note to get some more bandages for you.

You pulled on your leg warmers, then your flats to give your poor feet a break. The whole time, you made it clear you weren't happy with Hobie, but you knew he couldn't care in the least if you pretended to hate him because he knew that it wouldn't last. It never lasts, these little fits of yours. As long as you were healthy.

You wrapped your chiffon skirt around your hips and pulled on your shrug sweater, pulling your feet away as Hobie tries to get the full extent of the damage. "I'm fine. You wanted to go so let's go." You grab your shoes, and slip them up before standing uneasily and grabbing your duffle bag.

“We’re goin’ home. I’ll make you sometin’ when we get there.” He didn’t want you on your feet more than you needed to be. Hobie tried to appeal to you, an offer to make you something he knew you’d like. When you don’t respond, he tries again. “I’ll order sushi from tha’ place ya like.” He follows you outside, watching the way you tense a little as the cold air seized your muscles. You were nowhere near dressed enough for the weather. That’s exactly why Hobie brought an extra jacket.

You had a cigarette in the car, your legging-clad legs crossed and your body physically turned away. The window was down to air out the smoke and the wind tossed the tight curls of your hair as you gazed out at nothing in particular. Neither of you spoke. Hobie had nothing to say and you wouldn’t respond to him even if he did say anything.

He did end up getting you sushi. Your favorite. Something small and non-threatening food-wise, something you could eat if you weren’t so goddamn stubborn.

Getting home was a quiet affair as well. Your shared apartment was cluttered with things belonging to both of you. New pointe slippers were sitting on top of the breakfast bar of your studio flat, waiting to be destroyed an broken in the same way your body was. You tossed down your bag with an exhausted sigh. “I’m going to bed.” You hope Hobie will just let it go tonight. You’re in no mood to eat, thought you were fucking starving, much less to fight. But he’s not willing to let it go. “No– come eat. You need to eat before you go to sleep.” You were already removing your shoes as you fell into bed, simply too exhausted to remove any of your other clothing.

You can hear Hobie sigh in frustration. He doesn’t want to be rough with you in any capacity of the word. He just wants you to eat something— anything at all. “Get up, Y/N.” You can hear the way his voice warns you but you don’t want to move so you don’t. “I’m not hungry.” You lie right through your teeth. You’re so hungry you could eat the whole world in one bite and still want more. You were so hungry it felt like your stomach was beginning to cave in and digest itself out of desperation for something with some sort of substance.

“I don’ care if ya not hungry. You’ve gotta eat.” There’s a beat of silence, a chance for you to get up and end this here before it gets out of hand. But you’re both too stubborn for you’re own good. You don’t move, your fingers curling into the sheets as Hobie barks at you. “Y/N, get the fuck up! You’re makin’ this so much harder than it needs to be.”

Today has been log, your temper is short, and for a second, you feel like you’re losing it. You’re so hungry, so so hungry you feel your might not wake up from your sleep. But the recital is so close and you can’t afford to gain anymore weight. In a sudden burst of energy, despite your crippling hunger and the stinging, aching pain in your feet, you stand abruptly and march over to Hobie.

“I said–” you snatch the sushi from his hands and throw it to the ground, “I’m not fuckin’ hungry! Get off my fuckin’ back. I don’t need you up my ass right now!” You grab a dingy pack of cigarettes you had lying around and stormed off into the bathroom, with Hobie right in tow. You close and lock the door before he can follow you inside, his hand slamming on the thin wood that separated you from him. “Well, ‘m fuckin’ sorry that I give a single fuck ‘bout you when you seem so damn helbent on destoyin’ yaself. I’ll jus’ go piss off since ‘m such a fuckin’ nusance to you!” He hit the the door once more before going out to have a cig for himself. He’s not usually one to smoke, but in moments like this, he can’t help but take after your bad habits.

You both needed a moment to cool off. Pent up frustrations coming out in ways they shouldn’t meant that the two of you needed a break before begin near each other again. Hobie snatched his jacket and a stray cigarette with a nighter before heading out the front door to leave the building. He made sure to slam the door, let you know he was leaving, let you fear that he might not come back because you knew you weren’t acting like a reasonable person.

It’s the things the two of you do that destroy each other. But that’s love, isn’t it? It’s the good and the bad? You trying to teach Hobie how to dance like a ballerina like your tiny apartment had any real room for a body like his to move like that, the smokey giggles as you discard the dangers of smoking in bed and simply lie with him under the dim, LED lights and talk about nothing and everything all at the same time. It’s him cleaning your wounds after dancing for so long, you cleaning the cuts on his knuckles after a bar fight. It’s waking up early and watching the sunrise from your bed as he peppered kisses across your neck and worshiped you in the early morning light.

But it was also yelling at each other into the late nights, you throwing his clothes out the front door, him calling you an ungrateful bitch, both saying words you don’t mean. Love is aching. It can be painful, scarring, brutalizing on the soul. But the thing about true love is that it always mends itself despite it all.

A 20 minute smoke break and a few muttering curses later, Hobie felt he was finally calm enough to go back in and talk to you. He’s been sitting out on the cold on the front steps of your complex with nothing but his thoughts and the burning cig to keep himself warm. You were going through shit, he got that, but someone had to make sure you were okay. Someone had to be your self-preservation because you didn’t have any.

You hadn’t come out of the bathroom by the time he returned. Hobie tossed his jacket onto the bed as he made his way back to the bathroom door. He picked up the container of sushi on the way and tossed it into the garbage. He’d just make you something later.

“Y/N…baby.” He spoke as softly as he could through the door. “Can I please come in, luv?” He didn’t want to come in and get a bottle of lotion thrown at his head. You tended to be dramatic when angry. The silent but deadly type.

You were silent for a moment, a small sloshing of water told him you were in the bath. “The door’s unlocked,” he could just hardly hear you mutter beyond the door. Wasn’t exactly the invitation he was looking for, the bottle of lotion could still very well be a risk but it was one he was decidedly willing to take.

He opened the door slowly and peaked his head into the bathroom. You were in the tub with bubbles up to those pretty collarbones of yours. You had a cigarette perched between your dainty, trembling fingers, undoubtedly to suppress your hunger. Your eyes were red and puffy, mascara running down your cheeks in half-dried streaks, your legs pulled up to your chest just barely peeking up over the bubbles. Your favorite glass, heart-shaped ashtray was sitting on the ledge of the tub, already dusty with fresh ashes. Hobie got it for you, saw it and immediately knew you'd adore it. You did.

Hobie came and sat down on the ledge of the tub. You didn't look at him, just took another shaky drag and let the smoke pass by your lips. You looked like a mess and you were but you were his mess. His beautiful mess.

"You know I love you, righ?" He didn't expect you to reply and that was okay. You were tired, stressed, hungry, and probably in an incredible amount of pain. "You're my fuckin' everythin', doll. I'd do absolutely anythin' for you. Anythin'." You still didn't respond but he could see that you were listening, that you wanted to fall into him, kiss him. You turned away further but tapped the end of your cigarette against the edge of your ashtray.

Hobie slid off the tub and got down on his knees beside it to be at your level. "Do you wan' me to die? Is that it. You wan' me to drop fuckin' dead? 'Cause that's what'll happen if I gotta keep seein' you kill yaself like this." Killing yourself if such a proper term for how to treat yourself. You keep going on like this and you won't last much longer. You're so thin, unhealthily so, and you're always praised for it. But you won't eat for days, let yourself get so hungry you need to be hospitalized.

Tears prick your eyes as Hobie continues, resting his head against the tub ledge. "I can'' live in a world where you're not here, baby. I jus' can't. And it kills me to see you die a lil' more every single day." He sees the tears roll down your cheeks in fresh, salty streaks.

"But would you still love me?"

It catches him off guard. His pierced lips twist in dismay. "What?" You take a drag. "You fell in love with this version of me. As bad as I am. How do I know you won't stop loving me?" You knew you didn't sound rational in any way, shape, or form but you feared being left. You feared that for some reason— any reason— he'd leave you. He'd leave you if you weren't perfect, if you weren't thin enough, if you weren't pretty enough. Everyone told you how lucky he was to have you, such a nice, pretty girl on his arm to show off. A ballerina, the epitome of everything graceful, delicate, elegant, and beautiful.

Hobie reaches out, grabs your chin between the tips of his fingers to make you look at him. You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "Look a' me." When you don't, he leans in a way that puts him in line of your gaze. "If I stopped lovin' you because you got healthy, I don't deserve you. I could never stop loving' you. When we fight, I love you. When you scream and curse and throw things a' me, I still love you. When you cry all ugly 'n have ya makeup runnin' down ya face like you do right now, I think I fall in love with ya a lil' more."

You cry a little harder, sobbing as your cigarette falls into the water and sinks to the bottom of the tub. You lean into him as he holds you, not caring for the way you got him wet with the bath water and your tears.

"Don't cry, my pretty girl. It's okay." And he kisses you, your lips still tasking like strawberries and cigarettes.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #hobie brown fic #spider punk smut #ballerina #coquette #eating disoder trigger warning #trigger warning

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jarviscockerssecrethusband · 22 days

Text

Steve was meant to be working on his confidence. Billy wasn’t helping.

Autistic skill regression had hit him pretty hard after he broke up with Nancy and what had used to be Steve just being a usual dumb jock with a social life landed him slap bang into special ed. Because he’d traded in a stealth hate watching Kalvin Garrah life of parties, hookups where he never really took his clothes off and being King Steve, to not even being able to leave his house and struggling to talk.

Billy was meant to be a social coach, whatever that meant and get him back on his feet so that he’d actually be able to go to college without having a mental breakdown. What Billy was actually doing was making Steve freak the fuck out.

He was remarkably academic, a straight A student who mouthed off just enough teachers to stay popular while helping his single mom with his younger brother Max. He was hot, fit, creative and Steve had to use an aac device to ask for a glass of water.

Even Robin liked him and Robin hated pretty much everyone. That just rubbed salt into the wound of high school hiring a friend for him.

At first, he resisted it as much as humanly possible. Every opportunity he got, Steve would give Billy the slip and crawl back into the janitors closet with his notepad and sketchbook. Then get a lecture from his parents and the principal about it being for his own good. He couldn’t just refuse to talk to people forever.

Steve decided to take that as a personal challenge.

Billy took it all in his stride of course. That was the bit that pissed off Steve the most. He could be the most bitchy King Steve diva and the guy wouldn’t even be phased. Nobody was allowed to be that perfect.

Then Steve found out about Neil. The puzzle pieces started to slot together a little easier after that.

He decided to go a little easier on Billy. Begrudgingly, they got through the worksheet about appropriate responses to the word hello (patronising drawings included) and made it onto the shopping scenario. Billy decided to take a smoke break after that.

They both smoked in silence for five minutes. It was a nice change of pace and god did Billy look hot while smoking. Steve kept that thought to himself.

He got invited to Billy’s house that night. His younger brother opened the door, rolled his eyes and yelled like a banshee until Billy came skidding across the hall, hair still wet from a shower. Probably had a date afterwards as a treat for hanging out with someone as dumb as Steve.

The hangout was mostly sitting on Billy’s bed, laughing at truly horrendous archived Instagram posts until dinner. Billy had actually made him dinner. Mac and cheese.

Steves favourite.

Things were different when Steve came back to school on the Monday. There was an invitation to sit at Billy’s table at lunch, with the cool kids. Steves old friends. He took it.

Steve had really missed Carol. She was great and seemed genuinely excited to have Steve back. Even if he’d gone nonverbal again so couldn’t really talk to her properly.

Billy was absolutely jubilant. Of course it was probably just because he wouldn’t have to be saddled with Steve for much longer, but Steve chose to believe it was because he genuinely wanted Steve to be happy.

The crush had also become rapidly apparent, much to Steve’s dismay. Billy wasn’t doing much good for the matter considering how touchy feely he’d started being. It started out with just shoulder squeezes and a friendly arm across Steve’s shoulder but then they started cuddling. Billy kissing Steve’s cheek. In school. So Steve started doing it back because he certainly wasn’t complaining and hell maybe this was how straight guys acted nowadays.

It was very confusing and looking up why is my friend kissing me just led him to a porn site. But asking why it was happening might have made it stop so Steve just didn’t.

Then Billy asked him to the prom. That was even more confusing.

So Steve did the intelligent thing and asked “like, as bros right?”

Billy appeared to be doing his best impression of a startled horse at that question so Steve made the guess that he may have committed some sort of social faux pas.

Then he very patiently explained that they’d been dating since the day of homemade mac and cheese. That put a lot of things in perspective.

Steve said yes. Billy cried.

Then Steve discovered that a gay makeout beat a “he’s just straight and this is what straight guys do now” makeout by a mile.

This fic is a gift for @dragonflylady77 who is amazing and deserves the world (for any allistics reading unfortunately school assigning you a friend if you’re autistic is a very real experience 💀)

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #trans steve harrington #autistic steve harrington #trans max mayfield

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wehaveimagineshere · 1 month

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Ren, I really hope you don't mind me sending in another request so soon but I've read Girl Dad like 7 times and I'm still craving. I want more. I want Carlos with his newborn. I want him taking care of his girls and making breakfast in bed and bringing his wife the baby for group cuddles and shit. I crave the domestic fluff. I will take anything you throw at me it's all too good. You're too good. I'm feverish for your writing rn. I have such a soft spot for badass couples being soft with their little baby so youve really given me a blessing. >◇< ilysm please keep well and stay happy <33333

I don't mind more requests at all! <3 I'm so happy you liked Girl Dad! Omgggg this is so cuuttteee I'm so happy I get to write something so sugary sweet!!!

Thank you so much for being so sweet, every time I read this I get all smiley! <3

~*~*~

You wake up to the smell of bacon.

Yawning wide, you turn your head to Carlos' side of the bed, a little confused to find it empty. Running a hand across the sheets, you're even more surprised to find them cold.

Reaching out to your plugged in phone on the bedside table, you squint as it lights up. Okay, not too early. But, wait, your daughter usually starts crying before now.

Bolting up, your feet are almost on the carpet before your muddled brain slots the puzzle pieces together. Carlos' side of the bed is cold. Maybe he heard her before you did and calmed her so she didn't wake you up.

Why didn't he come back?

Rubbing a hand across your face, the decision to check or not is made for you. You hear Carlos saying something a moment before he opens the door, a plate of food in each hand.

"She's not going to believe how you helped with breakfast this morning."

And your daughter swaddled across his chest, who kicks her feet and giggles when she spots you.

"Hey, what are you doing awake?" Crossing the bedroom, he sets a plate full of bacon on the bedside table and uses his now free hand to swat at your thighs. "Get back in bed."

"What?" you ask, brain still muddled, tucking your feet back under the blankets.

"Our little girl here decided she wanted to make you breakfast in bed this morning." When you're leaning comfortably against the pillows, he sets the other plate onto your lap. Sunny side up eggs with toast greets your eyes, and your tummy grumbles a moment later.

Your little girl gurgles, arms doing a little wave.

Producing a fork, Carlos hands it to you before looking down to your girl. "Right. We have more dishes for you. Want pancakes next? Fruit? Bagel?"

At the mention of the bagel, your little one babbles.

"I agree, bagel sounds good." Making his way back to the kitchen, he throws over his shoulder, "I'll make sure it has cream cheese on it."

Blinking in surprise, you give yourself a moment to process before picking up a piece of bread and dipping it into the egg. You're only three bites in before Carlos returns with more plates, and it's not until the bed is almost full with all the dishes you own that Carlos leans against the wall opposite you, holding a strawberry shaped teether for your daughter to chew.

"What did I do?" you ask, setting aside an empty plate to pick up another. "To deserve all this, I mean?"

"Aside from popping this one out into the world?" He does a little shake, prompting your girl to kick her feet and giggle. "Maybe I just wanted to pamper my queen, ever think of that?"

You give him a curious look but keep eating until your stomach is full to bursting. When you go to get up to put the dishes up, Carlos swats your legs and hustles everything out, baby giving her commentary the entire time.

Still wondering if maybe there's a catch, you watch as Carlos unswaddles your girl and slides into his spot next to you, setting your daughter on her belly on his chest.

You slide up against his side, your hand resting against your girl's back. Her sleepy eyes drift to you, a small smile turning up her chubby cheeks.

"She's had a full morning helping me out in the kitchen." Carlos' voice rumbles through his chest, making her yawn and close her eyes. "She told me exactly how you like your pancakes."

"Did she now?"

"She did. Was very particular about it. If I made a mistake, I'd get an earful." Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he adds, "Just like someone else I know."

"Oh, so it's my fault?"

"Yeah. I mean, genetics and all, right?"

"And what did she get from you, big guy?"

"My superior sense of humor."

Smiling wide, you slot your head between Carlos' shoulder and collarbone. From this angle, you can see your girl passed out, drool dribbling from her open mouth and onto your husband's shirt. Rubbing your thumb absentmindedly up and down her back, you ask Carlos, "So what's the plan now?"

"I dunno, I didn't think that far." A pause. "A nap?"

"A nap sounds good."

Squeezing you in a one armed hug, you hear Carlos hum in agreement. "Nap it is, then."

#carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira/reader #carlos oliveira x reader #resident evil

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batbabydamian · 5 months

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question- do you mind doing fic recs? And if so, do you have any good fics centered around Dick and Damian's relationship? In particular anything that plays with their whole "I'm your brother but also your father/son but not but yes" thing they've got going on? If you see this thank you, you're doing the lord's work <3

anon if you’re still out there, thank you for your patience and hope you enjoy these! there’s MANY Dick&Damian fics i love so i tried to limit it to the “im your brother AND kinda your dad but not really” dynamic!!

3:16 by partingxshot

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

i think every Dick & Damian enthusiast has read this lol it may be ongoing but its latest chapter is left on a very satisfying end for an arc!!

an endless road to rediscover by littlearrows

In the months before Mar'i is born, Dick and Damian take a cross-country road trip together.

if you enjoyed the Dick and Damian tension from Nightwing (2016) #16-20 you might like this! :’) encouraging everyone to read those issues tbh

to be human by newsical

None of his Gotham acquaintances look upon his old life favorably — this, Damian knows. Was his life not noble before? Damian feels like a waterboarded gnat, swirling towards a drain. Gently, as though he has not ripped out Damian’s stomach with his teeth, Alfred says, “Attempting to take his father’s place won’t work, Master Richard…” Their voices peter out, and the last thing Damian can hear is Richard huff and say something that sounds like, “No shit,” and he is alone. Somewhere, a clock ticks. Damian pictures it melting. (Dick and Damian over the years.)

lovely dive into Damian’s personal growth and his relationship with Dick!! reading the poem that inspired the fic, especially again after finishing the fic is a nice touch!

Do You Feel the Way My Past Aches? by fishfingersandjellybabies

Bruce finds a wayward Damian asleep on his couch. Dick then find them both. An unexpected conversation ensues.

a tender Bruce perspective on the dynamic! “Bruce thought back to watching them work, Dick the master of the spotlight and Damian his perfect shadow.” THEM

When You're The One Who's Loved by fishfingersandjellybabies

Damian doesn’t understand why Dick is so upset. Tim does, though.

SO SOFTT ykw just go thru all of this writer's Dick & Damian fics they just exude love and warmth!!

Tea for Two by StormLeviosa

Their apartment is full of smiles now. It is because of Pennyworth, he is sure. Damian did not realise how much he'd missed Pennyworth until he came back. He slotted into their little family like the puzzle piece you do not know is missing. It was pleasant, having a grandfather he did not need to fear, and Pennyworth was all that and more.

part of a series, but easily read as a standalone. they’ve given up the vigilante life and DOMESTIC DICK & DAMIAN + ALFRED!! WHOLESOME!! i also enjoy the other Damian installments of the series, fun explorations of his interests/skills like violin!! and animals (going to vet school!!)

Pop-tarts and orange juice by Ididloveyou_once

‘Do you ever wish that Father had actually died?’ ‘Never.’ And despite the vehemence with which Richard says the word, Damian thinks that he might be lying. But only because he hates himself for the truth. Or: Bruce has been back from the dead for three months. Damian doesn’t know how to feel. He does know that he misses his da- Richard. They talk about it… Sort of.

"He wants to tell him that nothing compares to being Robin at his side. To being Damian at his side." WAILING

The Weight of Legacy by DawnsEternalLight

Damian didn’t think. He didn’t have to, protecting Richard was instinct by now. Darting forward right into the arc of Crane’s scythe as it aimed for his partner’s neck was as familiar to him as breathing, etched into his DNA. For if he lost Richard again, how could he continue to exist? The man was not only his firmest tie to Batman’s mantle, now that Father was home and clashing with Damian, but at some point during their partnership he had inexorably woven himself into Damian’s very being. Through training, and lessons, and quiet nights filled with ice cream. Patience and love–a thing Damian had not hoped to find here when he’d first set foot on American soil. To lose Richard would be akin to losing a limb. And so Damian acted as if that were true. He wove protection of his mentor, Batman, sibling, into every action he took and refused to accept failure as an option.

"We Both Know You're The Last of the Graysons" as a fic prompt is wild...that panel never fails to make me cry... also, another writer with an abundance of fantastic Dick & Damian fics!!

Emergency Contact by DawnsEternalLight

Damian: Apologies for the intrusion into your day, Richard. I need you to pick me up from the gallery trip early, it seems I have been stabbed. Dick blinked down at the message then read it again. And again. His brain not quite processing the words staring up at him, backlit by the phone.

this ventures bit more into parent Dick Grayson, as in Damian explicitly calling Dick his dad at the end but it's a fun fic!! that preview always cracks me up LOL

The Stowaway by LittleLadybugs

There's a cat in the penthouse. Fortunately, Alfred has yet to find out. Now to keep it that way. OR Dick tries his best to parent Damian. Damian tries his best, period. They’re both a bit clumsy, but they’ve got the spirit. There might be a cat Meow ᓚᘏᗢ 💙💚

smiling and laughing through this whole fic THEY ARE SO SILLY I LOVE THEM

as love carries its strength, but not its labels by AlterHarpia

Bruce is on a trip beyond Earth’s Solar System for longer than he intended, making Dick and Damian fall into an old pattern. “I'm not Batman.” A mere reminder, perhaps, but when said to Damian it always sounds like an apology.

basically them putting into words their own funky lil dynamic!!

Let The Right One In by whaleofatime

Hot on the trail of Deadshot threatening mayhem in Japan, Dick and Damian find themselves going undercover as a father-son duo on House Hunters International. Deadshot won't be the only source of chaos in Tokyo this summer, and Dick's only a little apologetic.

okok kinda cheating here since they’re just undercover as dad and son lol BUT it’s such a fun read of the duo on a Japan trip (mission)!

the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul

"WHAT MAKES IAGO EVIL? some people ask. I never ask." — Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays Or: Dick, his family, and the moral morass of a wishing well.

cheating again bc plot not focused on Dick and Damian’s relationship, but it’s there! really enjoyed the characterizations and dynamics here!!

soft clocks by dustorange

Side effects of being revived by Lex Luthor may include amnesia, going undercover into a high-level espionage agency, not recognizing your family, fighting your family, and dealing with the emotional weight and guilt associated with encountering said family. Ask your doctor if being revived by Lex Luthor is right for you. (a.k.a. Dick has amnesia during his time at Spyral. The family grapples with finding out he's alive. Dick grapples with finding out he has a family. Inspired by this post by bigskydreaming.)

lol sorry another not focused on their relationship but!! came and stayed for the plot, then the Dick & Damian moments KNOCKED ME OUTT!!

#anon #fic #i just realized i never made an ask tag sgdhfh #sorry this took so long ive been hella busy and combing thru almost 400 fics is a lot hahagsfshdj #someone ask me for Dick and Damian during their Batman and Robin days lol THE BLUEPRINT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP WAHH #but then there’s more fics after that era…ask for those too idk HAHA #ask

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wol-fica · 1 year

Text

-𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤 ℙ𝕋𝟠-

pairings - wednesdayaddams x fem!elemental!reader

summary - you had feelings, big feelings, and they get the best of your logical decisions

warnings - kissing, fluff, happy wednesday <333333

an - this was really amazing and cute omg

—————————

Wednesday Addams.

Her name was a statement in and of itself, an alluring force to be reckoned with. She was known to be an emotionless, dull, gruesome individual who didn’t give two shits about anyone or anything.

You met her in sophomore year at Nevermore, in botany class. Sitting two seats to the right and one seat up, she was definitely something— her posture straight as a board and her stare just as hard; she had what your dad called “omph”.

Now that “omph” she had, caught your attention; Wednesday was incredibly attractive, her features being almost perfect in your eyes. Someone had told you once that love at first sight wasn’t real, just a fairy tale told by your parents to make you feel better about your future; but when you saw Wednesday, that whole perspective changed.

She made your heart run a mile a minute, your breath hitch at her presence, your stomach fluttering with butterflies as she spoke; she had you wrapped around her finger and she didn’t even know it.

Or did she?

See, Wednesday was someone who hated love, the whole concept of it. Her parents sappiness and public affections had pushed down all of the complexities she could have acquired; instead she is an empty, black canvas.

But for some odd reason, that canvas was changing. Bursts of color had begun to appear, in rapid strokes that splattered around the whole expanse; a painting was being formed within the depths of her heart.

Wednesday was no fool to attraction, she was aware of the feeling. There have been many guys and girls who have caught her eye for a second longer than most, but she’s never been interested in pursuing them. Dating seemed like a waste of time to her, and she could never see herself as being someone else’s girlfriend.

That was until she met you.

You.

You were quite the ubiquitous person, always awake and present whenever anyone spoke to you. A smile was almost always etched onto your face, small dimples could be seen on your cheeks when you grinned.

Wednesday liked your smile, it was a refreshing sight for her. She sometimes would catch herself just gazing at you, her black eyes droopy and hazy as she soaked in the sunny glow you produced; you were her muse.

Soon she realized she was hooked, infatuated with your presence. Your poise and posture was well kept and strong, something that got Wednesday’s heart to stutter, and you were very very serious about your hygiene, in which got her feeling all woozy.

It was the simple things that got her interested, and it was when she decided to sit with you at lunch that you both started into a talking phase.

Your personalities fitted together like puzzle pieces, slotted to finish the final portrait. Gift giving was a love languages you had, one Wednesday had to get used to, and you abused it SO much when you were beginning to be with her.

You had once bought her a pitch-black obsidian handled knife with your initials carved into the side. The blade was made from steel and bone, sharped to be able to slice through flesh like it was butter.

Wednesday asked you to be her girlfriend the next day.

Your relationship skyrocketed to heaven, clouds surrounding you both in your little grey bubble of love. The two of you were so compatible that even Enid was slightly concerned on why you two had never met before.

“Seriously Y/N, it’s so crazy how soft she is with you.” She said one day over breakfast as you watched Wednesday go to get you your favorite food, “I’m slightly worried that you hypnotized her.”

You laughed, shaking your head while turning back to Enid, “I think she is just different with me than with you.”

Enid scoffed, sipping her orange juice daintily as she rolled her eyes. A large, raw steak sat in front of her, untouched and awaiting to be devoured.

“Does she talk murder tactics with you?” She asked, picking up her fork and knife to cut the meat, “Has she told you about shampoo torture?”

“Yep, and the wonderful ways to attack all human nerves at one time.” You replied, smirked at Enid as you both said the answer.

“Lava Bath.”

You both giggled, your voices carrying to where Wednesday stood in the breakfast line. The sound of your laughter filled her ears, and she couldn’t help but quirk a small smile. She loved your voice; the light, summer-y sound was soothing to her.

After grabbing a plate of food, some utensils, and a glass of chocolate milk, she made her way back to where you and Enid. were seated. Her black eyes were trained onto you, carefully watching your every move.

“Oh thank you!” You said happily, taking the plate from her.

“You’re welcome.” She replied whilst placing your drink and utensils down, “I never knew a person could be addicted to french toast, of all dishes.”

You chuckled, bumping your shoulder against hers after she sat down next to you. Her head tilted at the gesture, but she stayed silent and basked in the calmness of your conversation with Enid about how you can control the elements.

“So is it like a feeling? Or a will?”

“No,” You started, sipping your chocolate milk, “It’s more like an understanding between each creature.”

Wednesday buried her nose into her arm, exhaustion clouding over her as she attempted to stay awake. Due to a boring yet long study session, she did not get her usually 6 hours of sleep and instead took a 30 minute nap and stayed up for the rest of the night.

A warm hand rested on her back, rubbing comforting circles into her spine. She turned her head slightly to see you resting your hand on her, your eyes still on Enid as she spoke.

A rush of emotion hit her, a warm, bubbly feeling erupting in her stomach at your affectionate touch. Her face felt hot, and suddenly she had the urge to kiss you.

You both had previously talked about being more intimate with each other, but Wednesday’s stubbornness and her ill-efficient ways of conveying her thoughts on physical affection caused you to never got to try it out.

You had mentioned once that you were interested in slowly growing to that, and would be open to taking as much time as possible until she was ready for that kind of PDA.

The most Wednesday has ever done with you was hold hands, one hug after her second Poe Cup win, and she has permitted a few kisses on her cheek when you were feeling extra loving on valentine’s day.

“And that’s how I can start and stop the rain!” You said confidently, smiling at Enid while still rubbing Wednesday’s back.

“That’s impressive.” Wednesday commented from her slouched position, a small-dazed smile on her face as she stared at you, “You are stunning, cara mía.”

Your face went pink, your lip slipping in between your teeth as you blushed. Enid giggled, putting her hand over her mouth as she laughed at your flustered state.

“Shut up wolf.” You muttered, looking at the ground.

A sudden confidence came over Wednesday, and the next thing she knew, she was grabbing your face and pulling you into a kiss.

Your lips pressed into hers, soft-plump burgundy against slightly chapped and velvety pink. She pulled you closer, one hand on your waist while the other cupped your face. Eventually, your own hands slid to her cheeks to hold her, to touch her in some way.

She was addicting.

Her taste, her smell, her touch, her body language, the way she was so soft with you, the way she chased your lips after you took a breath; it was heavenly.

“Nes..” You mumbled, your voice muffling by Wednesday kissing you yet again.

You were aware of Enid, and you felt bad as this had to be so weird for her, but your focus was on your girlfriends tasteful kissing skills.

“As much as I love…well…love…this is extremely awkward.”

Wednesday pulled back from you, keeping her hands on your waist as she turned to glare at Enid for interrupting her.

“We were being intimate, leave us be.” She stated, rubbing her thumb on your hip.

“It was intense.” Enid sneered, gulping down the last of her orange juice as you blushed.

Wednesday rolled her eyes and pulled you into her lap as you yelped in surprise, your face going even redder than before. Her arms went around your waist to hold you tighter, her chin resting on your shoulder whilst closing her eyes in exhaustion.

“Sleepy?” You asked her, your hand sliding behind her neck to caress her skin.

She hummed, nodding and pulling you closer so she could lean into you. Enid snorted from across the table which made you turn to catch her taking a photo.

You eyed her with a warning look, raising an eyebrow and twitching your head towards Wednesday as if to say, ‘She will skin you alive if she sees that.’

Enid rolled her eyes but smiled, quickly sending you the picture before getting up to throw her food away and probably bother Yoko. You signed, watching her go before sinking back into Wednesday’s surprisingly comfortable hold.

You were with the girl of your dreams.

————————

*sobbing*

taglist: @crystal-lily-101 @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @dreaming-of-u @simp4thena @thenextdawn @alexkolax @annalestern @efectoangel @fall-08 @captainbeat @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @deep-fried-egg

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months

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Irish Kings: Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @anime-weeb-4-life @chaoticqueenie98 @wakeama @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @msjava1972 @thelonewolfwillsurvive @thanossexual @nu1freakshow @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @@lora21 @darqchilddaydreamz @ankhmutes @just-a-girl-who-wrytes @lexondeck @adaydreamaway08 @keyweegirlie @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @crimeshowjunkie @theeyesofthestag @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @ambassadortotrilliusprime @yvette22 @legally-a-bastard @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @joyfulfxckery @thanossexual @justreblogginfics

Story Arc:

Punishment - Chibs never thought the work he does for the club would blow back on you.

Silver & Gold - Chibs underestimates your resilience.

Pound of Flesh - Chibs knows that Galen took more than his pound of flesh.

Only You (NSFW) - Chibs and you share a moment of peace.

Queen - You come face to face with your monster.

Matriarch - Chibs and you take a step forward in your relationship.

Moving On - You and Chibs discuss moving forward.

There’s an Irish King sitting in your kitchen when you return home from work. It strikes you that their involvement in your life is becoming a regular occurrence, an unwelcome one.

Declan Brogan stands at your granite countertop, pouring hot water into a teapot. The scent of Earl Grey fills the air, flooding your nostrils as you step inside of the room. He doesn’t look up, he simply removes two mugs from your cupboard and sets them upon the oak tea tray, alongside a plate of shortbread. The signet ring on his finger catches the light and it takes you back for a moment, to a different time, one where Galen’s hand is wrapped around your throat, his face buried in your hair as he…

Your jaw tenses before you shake off the memory.

“If you’ve come here to kill me, can we take it elsewhere?” You request, thinking about the gun in your bag in the living room. “We both know how tough it is to get blood out of hardwood.”

To your surprise he laughs, it’s a rich hearty sound that resonates through the room as he adds a small milk jug to the tray.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” He tells you light heartedly before gesturing to the kitchen table. “Shall we sit down and talk over tea like civilised people?”

You take the seat reluctantly, crossing your legs, one over the other as you adjust the hem of your pencil skirt. Declan picks up the tea tray and brings it to the table, setting it gently down in front of you. Out of all your experience with the kings this is the most surreal.

“Shall I be mother?” he says before picking up the teapot and pouring the tea into your cup.

You watch him stoically, your fingertips rapping lightly upon the surface of the table.

“If you aren’t here to kill me…”

“I’m here to thank you.” Declan informs you taking up residence in the seat across from you. He picks up a piece of shortbread and pops it into his mouth. “You solved a problem that has been plaguing us for a number of years.”

You pick up your teacup and look at Declan over the rim.

“You mean the Sons did.”

There’s silence between the two of you as his gaze comes to rest upon you. You take a deliberate sip before setting the teacup down and meeting his eyes.

“Lass, we know what happened.” He tells you. “Do you think you were the only one, the first one?”

For a second, you’re stunned. The implications of the statement rush through your brain as you slot pieces of the puzzle together. You knew there were other victims, Galen had taken great pride in telling you that during your time together, but it wasn’t until now you realised how systemic it was, that the Kings knew, and they did fuck all about it.

Powerful men in powerful positions, you think, and it leaves a bitterness on your tongue.

“So, you knew.” You say unable to keep the ire out of your voice. “You knew what he’s been doing and you just let him keep doing it, because what… its effective? It gets you what you want?”

“We don’t condone his methods…”

“His methods?” You spit at him. “Do you understand what it is like to have something like that happen to you? To have your dignity stripped away from you? You’re soul fucking destroyed because some asshole wants to teach the man you love a lesson? He tortured me in your fucking name, and you helped him get away with it, the same way you have every other fucking time.”

“I know what it’s like to be on the other side of it.” He snaps back at you. “To know it happened to someone that you love, to watch them struggle with the weight of it every single day, I know what it’s like to look at my grandchild and see his eyes and know….” He inhales sharply as he meets your eyes, his own burning with a rage that mirrors your own. “My daughter was a good Catholic girl. When I imposed sanctions because of his behaviour he retaliated by violating her over and over again until she became pregnant. He looked in my face and toasted me the night my grandson was born, and he called it a blessing.”

You collapse back in your seat, shaking your head as you listen to his story. You can see the weight he carries on his shoulders, the emotional toll it takes to live with something like that. It doesn’t change anything, you're still so fucking angry but that pain, the agony that nestles deep down in your chest it’s shared. You aren’t the only one tarnished by Galen.

“He was a fucking monster, but the cause needed him.” Declan says vehemently. “I couldn’t get my hands on him unless he was declared a traitor, it would have torn the True IRA apart, so I had to wait…”

“And then I took care of it.” You state frankly. “The Sons handed you the evidence of his side dealings, and I gave you a body. The whole thing all tied up neatly in a bow.”

“I can never repay you for what you did.” He tells you fiercely. “My daughter can sleep again knowing that her rapist is buried in the ground.”

Your gaze shifts to the kitchen window. There’s a bird house just outside, a pretty wooden one that your niece made with Filip the last time she was over. You watch the birds as they flit in and out of it, chirping to one another. You remember watching the two of them together in the workshop outback of Teller Morrow, how happy Filip had been to create something, to be part of a family again. You think of Tig and his partner Suzy, of the baby they have on the way, of Jax and his two little ones and everyone else, the peace that they all deserve to have in their lives because the last few years have been filled with violence and chaos and right now you have an opportunity to end some of that.

“There is a way you can repay me.” You say quietly as you sip from your teacup. “The Sons want out of the gun business; I want that to happen. No retaliation. No buy out. A clean break, you go your way, and they go theirs.”

It was what had started this whole mess to begin with, it seems fitting that this is how it ends. The very thing that Galen had strove to prevent was now his legacy. You hoped the son of a bitch was turning in his grave.

Declan inclines his head towards you, his gaze meeting yours. You can tell that the deal is done, that this man would have given you anything you asked for because you took away the source of his nightmares, you slayed not only your monster but his as well.

“I’ll put the calls in.” He assures you as he raises to his feet, signalling the end of your exchange.

You follow suit, your hands clasped in front of you as he strides towards the backdoor that you certainly did not leave unlocked. He pauses for a moment before glancing at you over his shoulder.

“Take care deirfiúr bheag.” He says fondly. “And God help the next person that crosses you.”

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f1gments · 1 year

Text

The Moon and His Sun - Hayakawa Aki

You come to him like a breath of fresh air, cleansing his soul, his entire existence. You fill the once empty void in his chest. He finds solace in every part of you. You're his sun, and he’s your moon. Home is not a place, but where you are, waiting for him with open arms.

author’s note: added a photo of aki in ep 6 because it’s how I actually imagined him. 🥰

Thinking about how you and Aki are sitting at the balcony, just sitting in one another's embrace one late night while you remember the day when you two first meet and speak of the possible future you might or might not have with each other. Also I feel like "Bouquet" by Ichiko Aoba goes really well with this imagine.

tags/content warnings: fluff, slight mutual pining, slight angst, slight mentions of sex but it's not that detailed.

word count: 3.5k words (not proofread btw)

Judging by the angle of the moonlight illuminating the apartment, it is clear that it is currently a time that both you and Aki should most definitely, be completely dead asleep. But going to bed early is a foreign concept for the two of you. On most nights like this, when Denji and Power have long gone to bed, you and Aki spend time together after a tiring day of work – huddled up on the balcony, just enjoying each other's presence with cigarette smoke filling the air.

“Hey Aki.” you say, breaking the comfortable silence as your head lays on his shoulder, staring straight ahead at the view of the urban area in front of you.

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever thought about what you wanted to be if we didn’t have devils and weren’t in Public Safety?”

Aki remains silent in thought. There were many times he’d think about what he could’ve been if those damn devils didn’t exist. If the sole thought of a person’s fear didn’t lead them to appear out of nowhere.

“Well, I’ve always enjoyed watching people play baseball, so maybe a baseball player. Or a detective.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Detective, huh?”

“Yeah. I used to watch tons of crime documentaries and I always thought the investigations and the process of it all was interesting.”

“Now that you mention it, I kinda see you as detective. I think it would suit you well.” you grin. His lips tug up slightly to give you a small smile in return.

Aki then mentions his younger brother Taiyo when you ask him what makes him want to be a baseball player.

“You remember him, right?” he asks before taking a long inhale from the menthol flavored cigarette.

You tilt your head up to look at the doleful look on his face while he stares out towards the other buildings facing you. You nod slowly, recalling the few times he’d share his memories about him and his deceased sibling, and the tragedy that happened to him along with his parents when the gun devil showed up in Japan – killing 57,912 people in its wake.

Aki gazes at you softly, exhaling a puff of smoke from the menthol stick held between his fingers. “How about you,y/n? What did you want to be?”

You hum in thought. Frankly, there were many things that you wanted to be. Many things you wanted to accomplish if you were given a chance to live a normal life.

“I’d probably be a lawyer, or a teacher.”

He tells you that you would suit either of those. He admires the way you’re passionate about standing up for others and seeking justice - how you have a big heart and give out kindness to those who don’t even deserve it. He loves that you complete him, like a puzzle piece that was made to fit exactly into the once empty slot of his chest. You were the bright and vivid colors that painted his once dull and grey world. He loves how you instantly make his day better with your smile and sounds of laughter on days when memories of his haunting past weigh on his mind. Sometimes he feels like you weren’t real. That you were an ethereal being with the most prettiest face. You’re an anchor that keeps him grounded.

“And what if we hadn’t crossed paths? Do you think we’d be as happy as we are now?” you ask him this time.

“I know I wouldn’t be. You’re the reason I look forward to getting up everyday.”

“I used to think that life was meaningless and being happy wasn’t maybe isn’t meant for everyone.” he tells you while looking you in the eyes genuinely.

“But you changed that for me. I’m grateful that the universe was kind enough to turn my lonely days into happy ones by gifting me with you.” he murmurs, taking the back of your hand to his lips to give it a gentle peck before he rests it on his lap to gently caress it with his thumb.

Your giggle shyly at his confession, fingers fiddling with the metal black promise ring that’s sitting on your other hand that Aki had given you on your second year of being together. You tell him you’d probably be out there somewhere living a miserable single life since chivalry is dead with most men nowadays.

He tells you that would be impossible since someone as pretty as you would have many admirers and sooner or later you’d let one of them sweep you off your feet. To which you deny and it makes you think back to how you and Aki ended up dating in the first place.

"Do you remember the first time we met?"

He lets out a chuckle, reminiscing the nostalgic moments of your first meeting.

"Always."

Flashback

There's someone I'd like you to meet." says Makima to you and during that moment the door opens and in strides a tall young man who looked about two or three years older than you were. A katana sits on on the back of the neat black suit he wears. Dark and inky blue locks from his wispy bangs frame the rather emotionless look on his face. The man keeps his gaze straight ahead with his hands clasped behind his back, head held high. Despite the stoic expression on him, you find that he looks very handsome.

"Hayakawa. This is Y/N. She'll be joining us from now on and she'll be your new partner." Said Makima.

"What about Himeno, ma'am?" he questions. His voice is deep and although it comes out monotonous you can’t help but find it rather attractive.

"She'll be Kishibe's partner as of now." Makima responds shortly before scribbling away at a document on her desk.

You turn to look at Aki, whose midnight blue irises are already staring at you with an unreadable look - though it almost seems as if he’s examining you. From the way his eyes flicker to yours, down to your lips then briefly at your figure before he completely breaks off eye contact with you and turns his head to look ahead once again.

"I'm Aki. Nice to meet you."

"Hello, Aki. Likewise. I'm y/n."'

He doesn't know what it is, but something about the mere way you say his name in a honeyed tone has him fighting back a blush.

You follow Aki from behind onto the bustling street of city slickers and business suits out on your first time of patrolling. Aki doesn't say more than a few sentences of explaining what usually happens during a patrol should the both of you encounter any devils. There isn’t much of any devil activity that day so you both head back to the headquarters.

You don't ask many questions and you only speak unless you're spoken to and Aki prefers it that way since he really can't be bothered to explain the whole works of everything.

Thankfully the both of you work well together and you there was this one time you managed to surprise Aki when you deal with decapitating a medium level devil all by yourself.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and after being promoted by Makima, you're now in the same ranking as he is. And within that period of time, the both of you can't help but notice the mutual attraction that's blossoming between you. It starts of as shy glances from one another across the office, to the brief bumping on one another’s elbow or brushes of fingers whenever the both of you are next to each other. But you're both not sure whether to let it turn into something more from there or even address the subject matter.

On top of that, you notice the way Himeno eyes Aki on the few missions you all go on together along with her Kishibe, who's another senior in the division. You can tell that she has a thing for him and as much as you would like to pursue your feelings for Aki, you decide that beefing with another girl to win the mans heart is something you can't be bothered with. So you idly watch them through the window of your office when you see her link arms with him in the hallway, asking him if he wants to join her for lunch. It’s only normal to feel a tad bit of jealousy when you see your crush (you know it sounds childish) get touched by someone else. Especially if that someone else shares the same feelings for him as you do.

Surprisingly though, Aki moves her arm off him to turn down her invitation, telling her that has to meet up with Makima during that time. You know that he's lying because he's avoiding eye contact and you're his partner - if Makima actually wanted to see him, you’d be the first to know.

While Aki's just plain awkward when it comes to women and relationships, you on the other hand can't remember the last time you even kissed a guy.

Speaking of kissing, your first kiss with Aki happens on a nondescript Friday evening after work - everyone has left and it's just you and Aki in the office packing up your bags to head home. For the first time ever since the day you joined Public Safety, Aki takes the initiative to walk over to your desk, hands in his pockets as he struggles to find the proper words to ask if you wanted to join him for a few drinks without embarrassing himself.

"So um," He clears his throat as he feels his cheeks slowly begin to heat up. "I was wondering if you were free to join me after this, for drinks."

You slowly turn your head to look up while you blink at him silently at the sudden invitation, but then you smile and give him a nod.

“I’d like that.”

Aki takes a deep breath and his eyes slightly light up while he tries contain the excitement from your response which makes you laugh. Your grin grows wider when you notice the tips of his ears becoming red.

You're both now sat next to each other at a hidden bar Aki frequently comes to on days where he feels like he needs a glass or two to allow him to relax a little after an exhausting day of work. There aren't many people in the bar - just the both of you along with two other patrons siting at the far corner of the place and the young bartender whose occupied with a clean towel in hand to wipe a shot glass.

Smooth jazz plays in the background at a low volume as Aki motions over to him with an upward nod. "I'll have the usual."

The bartender flashes him a smile before he turns to you. "Got it. And what'll your pretty friend be having?"

"I'll have a whiskey sour." You smile.

A few hours and about five or six glasses later, you start to feel a little buzzed from the alcohol in your system. Thankfully you're not completely drunk so you're still able to hold a proper conversation or two. The same goes for Aki who is able to hold his liquor well, but there had been some nights where he would pass out cold in the bar to have the bartender wake him during up closing time.

Tonight was probably the most you and Aki speak compared to the times you both are at work where only a few sentences are shared between you both and they have nothing to do with your personal lives.

A couple clicks sound from a lighter going off makes you turn to see Aki lighting up a cigarette. The light from the flame of the lighter reflects onto his face, forming a shadow on his handsome features. He has his usual hairstyle down in its natural state and you can't help but to stare at him.

His eyes shift to yours, blowing out the smoke from his lips away from your direction. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You're pretty." You tell him, grinning lazily. Maybe it was the alcohol that gave you the courage to say that.

Aki's eyes widen and he inhales sharply, letting out an shy gasp as his cheeks turn an even more rosy colour than the one that’s already staining his cheeks due to the alcohol he’d been drinking.

The bartender witnesses all of this and he lets out an amused chuckle. Aki gives him an annoyed side eye to which the bartender raises his arms up in surrender. Aki slides him a few bills and tells you that maybe it's time to get you home before you end up getting even more drunk.

You're now walking side by side at a comfortable distance next to each other, on the way to your place. You shiver slightly at the cool night breeze that swirls around the both of you. It's late but thankfully there are a few cars driving pass the both of you and although most of the shops in the area are closed, there are still lights illuminating your surroundings.

"Hey Aki. Are you seeing anyone right now?" you ask out of nowhere.

Aki shakes his head. "No. Why?"

You shrug. "No reason. Just wonder why a handsome guy like you doesn't have a girl waiting for you at home."

You hear him chuckle for the first time ever because usually Aki only ever lets out so much as an amused exhale from his nose during your conversations - barely even smiles to anyone at work. He isn't one to show that many emotions from what you experience in being his partner.

"First you call me pretty and now you think I'm handsome?"

"Just telling the truth." you shrug with a grin this time.

The mood seems to shift, the amused expression falling off his face once he sees realizes that this is the chance for him to finally confess his feelings to you. You're both currently stranding underneath a non functioning street light.

"There is someone I like though." he murmurs as he stands a little closer in front of you.

You don't want to get your hopes up but you feel like you already get feeling of who it is. Nevertheless you ask who it could be.

"I'm looking right at her." he tells you. It isn’t a second later that he initiates the kiss by leaning forward to press his lips firmly against your soft ones. The kiss itself tastes like a mix between a minty taste of the cigarettes Aki had been smoking and the drinks you had earlier.

It's an innocent kiss. No movement - no tongue. Just the both of you feeling the sensation of each other's lips and how they feel pressed against one another. But Aki lets out a soft groan when he tastes the minty cherry flavor from what's left of your lip-gloss. That's when he decides to pull away so that he doesn't end up being greedy to deepen the kiss.

Aki watches as there's a shade of vivid coral dusting your cheeks - and he feels that his cheeks are doing the same. He clears his throat, nervously stumbling over his words to apologize to you before he regains his posture. Aki takes a deep breath before he gazes at you with one of his serious expressions.

"I like you."

You grin shyly at him. "I like you too."

The first few months of dating after that is a learning process for the both of you since you’re both not at all that experienced in relationships. But Aki does his research on finding out what girls like and dislike. What makes them happy and sad. (He also hesitantly went up to Kishibe one day for a few tips from since the older male seems to have experience when it comes to women) He puts all the effort into anytime time he takes you out on dates and you notice that Aki slowly cracks open his hard-outer shell for you. He smiles more when he’s with you – he’s gentler when speaking to you, and he makes sure to stay attentive to all the things you have to say.

Aki loves hearing you speak. He could fall asleep to the soft and gentle tone of your voice.

The relationship progresses with stolen kisses from him in the empty hallways or office. The journey back home after work consists of holding each other’s hands and the sharing of one another’s life stories.

Most of your colleagues at work have become aware of your discreet relationship with Aki – even Himeno. She was with Kishibe then, when they catch you and Aki making out at his desk. You're straddling your boyfriend when the two of them walk in with an astonished expression on their faces. They were about to invite the both of you for lunch, but it seems apparently you were both already busy with eating each others faces off.

Himeno chuckles dryly at the scene. "Geez, just get a room already." she mutters as she pushes past Kishibe to walk back out the room.

The blonde haired male on the other hand finds this somewhat amusing and he throws a wink at the two of you telling Aki to make sure he puts a wrapper on it, before he exits the room with his hands in his pockets. Aki's covering his face in embarrassment while you only giggle at his reaction.

You were both each other’s first. It was a rainy afternoon filled with giddy laughter, trembling hands and hungry kisses. Although he was big, it didn’t hurt like you expected it to but the first few moments after he pushes himself into you feels a little strange but soon that turns into pleasure and Aki thinks that he can never get enough of the way you’re begging for more under him, crying out his name.

“I love you.” He tells you once you both come down from the euphoric high of your orgasms. The rain is pitter pattering against the windows, and the room is filled with the smell of sex, cigarettes along with the scent of your warm vanilla perfume that Aki loves so much. You lay your bare chest on his, pecking him on the cheek, making him blush even after was buried deep inside you a few moments earlier.

“I love you too, Aki.”

End of flashback

The sun begins to slowly peek from the horizon, a light shade of tangerine and coral lining the sky.

Thankfully you didn’t have work in the few hours to come so the both of you remain sat at the balcony, sitting comfortably with cigarette smoke surrounding you, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. Aki then begins grumbling how your lives were more peaceful before those two rascals came to ruin it. You let out an airy laugh telling him that they were nothing but individuals who found comfort in the solace of you and Aki’s home. (Somewhere along the way, you decide to move in with Aki since he had given you a spare key to his apartment during your ninth month of being together.)

Aki glances at you. Taking in your breath-taking beauty. He considers himself lucky to have someone as understanding and loving as you by his side. Someone who’s able to accept the deepest, darkest parts of him. Someone who’s also independent when you needed to be, and strong when you face any devils together. A sudden sadness washes over him when he thinks of the days he has left on his life. He wonders how you’ll be able to deal with his loss one day. He can’t help but feel a little jealous if you were to find someone else other than him to share intimate moments with.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” you hum, interrupting him from his deep thoughts.

“Our future.”

“What about it?”

“Just about who’s going to take care of you when I’m gone.” He says, pulling you onto his lap, burying his face into your neck to inhale the soft florally scent of your shampoo. You’re aware of his decreasing life span from the contract he made with the devils he’d come across.

You caress his hair gently, giving him a loving kiss on the forehead. “Aki, look at me.”

The man looks up at you with an unreadable expression. You cup both his cheeks, stroking your them with your thumb. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. If anything happens, I can handle it by myself. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“And if you’re worried about me finding someone else, you don’t have to worry about that either. My heart and soul belong to you. I am yours, as you are mine. Right?” You tell him. Aki gives you a boyish smile, something you see often now but it never ceases to give you butterflies in your stomach.

“I am yours.” He replies before capturing your chin with his thumb and index finger, kissing you passionately on the lips. He groans when you bite down on his bottom lip, making you smirk. He pulls away to give you a look.

“Careful. Don’t start what you can’t finish.” He warns. But his words only make you smirk even wider.

You make a joke how you’re both practically in a contract with one another just like with the contract he makes with the devils he’s come across. You then say that he would probably be the love devil with the way you’re madly in love with him.

Aki rolls his eyes with a scoff. “That’s so cheesy. That’s not even how it works,y/n.”

You snicker. “I know but one of us has to be the comedian in this relationship.” You tell him to which he rolls his eyes again. Then, you notice the mischievous glint swimming in his eyes as he asks you. “You know what devil you’d be?”

You shake your head. Aki smirks as he reaches up to whisper in your ear. “You’d be the sex fiend.”

You slap him on the chest playfully, making him laugh before gently cups your face as he kisses you on the lips once more.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Aki.”

this was something very random. just got inspired by the song i mentioned at the top. big fan of ichko aoba's music :)

#aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki fluff #aki chainsaw man #aki hayakawa imagine #hayakawa aki #hayakawa aki headcanon #csm aki #csm imagine #chainsaw man #csm #aki hayakawa x reader #aki smut #hayakawa aki x reader #i love him much he makes me soft #aki hayakawa headcanons #csm headcanons #chainsaw man aki

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johnslittlespoon · 26 days

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i was so excited to listen to glass animal's new song 'creatures in heaven' today and instead my heart has been ripped out because it's so awfully painfully fitting for our mota boys (i'm currently making an angsty heartache–y edit to it lol whoops) BUCKLE UP because i need to yell (and keep scrolling if lyric analysis/song fics aren't your thing <3)

also tumblr keeps screwing with the formatting ignore that pls lol

What do you think about when you think about love? I'm dumbstruck when you're tender, but It's three in the morning, be in the moment It tears through my head, does it haunt you too?

i mean, the imagery. pillow talk, sneaking off base before dawn, vulnerability and raw honesty laying side by side in a field, looking up at the stars and wondering which ones are the people they've lost looking down at them, every peaceful, happy moment laced with the knowledge that so many friends will never get to have another one.

You held me like my mother made me just for you You held me so close that I broke in two

fuck my life. dave bayley count your days. these lines are just so viscerally painful and stunning? john feeling like every core of his being was made to fit gale, like puzzle pieces slotting together, the gaps in his life filled the moment gale enters his orbit. both of them never having experienced being treated so gently and with so much reverence, feeling taken apart and put back together in each other's arms.

You pass through my head, does it haunt you too? Never really said that I loved you, too

heavy on the angst here because this reads like post–war john pov, filled with regrets but plastering on a smile as he watches gale marry someone who isn't him, aching to tell him how he feels but knowing it will only make a mess of things. and more than anything, he wants gale to be happy, and if that means staying quiet and loving him at arm's length, he can do that. but late at night he can't help but wonder if gale ever thinks about what could've been, if all the moments they shared haunt him too.

Lucky, lucky you, 'cause I'm fortune's fool Such small words but they hit so huge

this reminded me of gale's father and his gambling and how despite everything he falls in love with john, a gambling man. such small words (don't count on it) but they mean everything :(

I don't think I realize Just how much I miss you sometimes We were young and so in love

this hurts on SO MANY LEVELS. i immediately read this as curtbucky– john never gets time to grieve, everyone just has to keep trucking on. but sometimes late at night it hits him so hard he feels like he's drowning, realizing how empty of a space curt's left, how much he truly loved him, the first person to make him feel that way.

but also can be read as buckbucky, both of them properly feeling the emptiness of not being by each other's sides for the first time before they reunite at the stalag, maybe both having a feelings–realization moment when they're hit with how wrong everything feels when they're apart.

or, post–war, john aching for gale and wishing on everything that he can just fall out of love. he knew that it would be hard, going back home and going their separate ways, even with the promise to stay in contact, but it's so much harder than he ever could have imagined.

Three in the morning, safe inside Bury me here in your laundry pile

ouch ouch ouch. a few images: john seeking out one of gale's worn shirts after his plane goes down, falling asleep with it pressed to his chest in his bed. or john stealing one of gale's shirts before they all go back home post–war, shoving it to the bottom of his suitcase, sleeping with it every night despite the way his stomach turns, feeling hollowed out as the smell of him slowly fades away. or, john staying at gale and marge's house for the wedding, having a breakdown the night after, finding himself on the floor of their laundry room at three am, curling up in a pile of dirty laundry just to feel close to gale one last time before he goes home in the morning.

I don't see the point in a subtle romance Ten tonne heartache sitting on your back

john is so all or nothing with love; when he's in, he's in, barrelling full speed ahead, giving it all up for his person. maybe the secrecy when they first start seeing each other is okay at first, little midnight rendezvous, but he craves more, he wants a future with gale so badly, he wants a house and a wedding and kids and a dog and sitting side by side on a porch at eighty years old. but he knows that gale is giving him all that he can right now, and it's better than nothing, so even though he wants so much more, he'll settle.

Scared of the crack where the light comes through I'm only really me when I'm here with you

ughhh both of them being so scared to be really seen by someone that it's terrifying how quickly they grow close. that nauseating feeling you get right after opening up to someone for the first time, the feeling of holding your breath waiting for rejection– but it never comes. they accept each other with open arms and patience and unconditional love and they show each other what it's like to be able to be so fully unapologetically real with someone for the first time. a shell of themselves when they aren't together, like they're missing one half, and it's so obvious that everyone around can see it. they share the same name for a reason.

And it gets into your head like a cosmic zoom Coat on the door like an old space suit So long cowboy, you're so cool Cash in hand with a memory of you

okay, ngl this just made me think of john ditching his coat that gale hates– even in the heat of going up on a mission, it's still in his head, enough to go through the motion of swapping it out. so long cowboy just sounds like something sweet he and curt would've said to each other honestly; thinking about john saying it again when he looks up at the stars the night he finds out curt didn't make it.

cash in hand with a memory of you? come onnn it's literally the lucky deuce. may as well have just slapped that bit of the song behind the scene of gale going through his belongings when he makes it back to base, picking up the cash and thinking about his man. </3

–anyway! apologies for the word–vomit, sometimes i just get a song wedged into the front of my skull and i am paralyzed from doing anything else until i get my thoughts out about it. and it's truly such a gorgeous song, 10/10 recommend if you feel like crying, been listening to these guys for a decade now and they never disappoint.

literally gonna agonize over making an edit for this for hours to get the vision just right and would not be surprised if i end up writing a oneshot inspired by it lol i adore every song they've put out but this one just gripped me so strongly the moment i pulled up the lyrics with how perfectly it slotted into the mota–verse. <33

#i don't even know how to tag this #curtbucky and buckbucky pain ig lol #johnslittlespoon brainrot #this is so funny literally no one cares i just needed to get this out of my system #thank you and fuck you glass animals for another stunning song #also i was looking at the album tracklist and one of the songs is called 'how i learned to love the bomb' watch that give me brainrot too #july nineteenth will be my last day on this earth methinks #johnslittlespoon musicrot

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ladykailitha · 10 months

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All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 17

Welp. We are in the home stretch. I’m almost done writing the last chapter and then there will be a small epilogue. Thank you so much for sharing this ride with me on this one.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Edie isn’t exactly sure when it started happening, but she began to notice little changes in her dad’s eating habits. Some times he would go for seconds if he liked it or he would keep some kind of fruit on hand to snack on.

But knowing her dad’s past also helped her notice when he would get that thousand yard stare or when he would jump at certain sounds. Knowing that he had walked through hell, not just once, but multiple times was like slotting in a piece of the puzzle you didn’t know was missing. And just watching all the other pieces that didn’t make sense before form a complete picture.

She knew that they had told her was only scratching the surface. Things they weren’t directly involved in but didn’t want to know. After she was told about their past Mr Munson gave her permission to dig into the incident surrounding the actual fucking lynch mob that was led by a psychotic basketball star.

What made her the angriest was that the asshole died in the earthquake and never had to deal with the consequences of his actions. That the town took that as liberty to just sweep it under the rug. The police chief quietly resigned two years later. No one that was involved in the witch hunt was actually punished for what they did to Mr Munson.

So she decided she was going to make a long distance phone call. A very long distance phone call.

“Miss Thing!” Lily Byers greeted cheerfully. “To what do I owe this totally awesome pleasure?”

“Cousin Itt!” Edie greeted back. “How’s it rocking, girlie?”

“You know,” Lily said, “as much as I love traveling the world, I got soo super jelly of your prom pictures. I’m trying to convince Mom to let spend the last year of high school with you.”

“Just say the word, Cousin Itt,” Edie said seriously, “I will deploy the puppy dog eyes.”

Lily laughed. “I’m not quite that desperate. Yet.”

“Duly noted,” Edie said. “Hey, I need a favor. But first how much do you know about your parents’ high school days?”

“You talking normal angst filled love triangles?” Lily ask slowly. “Or are we talking about nightmare fuel?”

“Nightmare fuel.”

Lily let out a slow breath. “I got ‘read in’ last year.” Edie could feel the air quotes from here. “I’m guessing you’re new to the ‘my parents are fucked up’ club?”

“About a month I guess,” Edie said with a sigh. “Me and Harri Munson. They tell you about what happened to his dad? Eddie Munson? Not the monster shit, but the normies fucking shit up stuff?”

Lily let out another long sigh. “Yeah. The witch hunt of the century.”

“Can you please explain why your mother and father didn’t expose the fucking town the way they did the Lab?” Edie asked pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“That is a really good question, Miss Thing,” Lily said. “And I think you just gave me new leverage against my parents over the whole high school senior year dealio. I’ll get back to you.”

“Love you lots!” Edie said.

“Love you more!” Lily replied and then hung up.

“You know,” a voice said from behind her, “that’s a pretty low blow, weaponizing your cousin that way.”

Edie whirled around to see her dad leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he had an easy smile on his face.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop,” she said glaring at him.

“I just came to ask if you wanted pizza or kebabs tonight,” he said, his smile turning into a grin. “I did knock. A couple times in fact. But you were the one plotting world takeover with your bedroom door open.”

Edie flopped on her bed. “Is that one of the reasons we rarely get together, because we’d take over the world?”

Steve laughed. “One of many. One of many.”

Edie grinned. “I’m just correcting a miscarriage of justice is all.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked grinning back at her. “Knowing Lily Byers like I do, I fully expect an expose by the end of the week and formal apology from the city of Hawkins and the state of Indiana to Eddie by the end of the month.”

Edie pretended to toss non-existent long hair over her shoulder. “Good.”

Steve pulled her in for a hug. “I think the reason she didn’t is because of me.”

Edie pulled away slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I think she didn’t want to stir up feelings for Eddie after he left.”

“But he left three months after,” Edie insisted. “Why didn’t she say something then?”

“Our town was nearly destroyed,” Steve reminded her. “And the government had found a scapegoat in Henry Creel, got Eddie off and all this while Eddie was still in a coma from being nearly ripped to bits. She had a lot on her mind those first three months. We all did. And then he got a record deal, he was going to be famous. She probably didn’t want to make waves for him and ruin his chances.”

“Damn it,” she sighed. “Those are all really good reason not blow up the biggest scandal since the ‘gas leak’.”

“So maybe tell Lily to ease up a bit on her mom?” Steve asked.

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell, Dad.”

Steve sighed. He figured that was the answer, but felt he had to try. At least a little.

School was ending and Edie and Harri both had summer school. Mandy and Kenny were free, but then they were good in school and mostly liked by the teachers.

Their rich school was a bit backwards. Probably because it had only been built in the last decade, but Mr Pearson wasn’t the only teacher that turned their noses up at old money students like Edie. She had the misfortune to be old money, too. Her family’s wealth went back as far a century at least.

She wasn’t third or even fourth generation wealthy. Her great-great grandparents were stinking rich. They were among the few families to come out of the stock market crash and Great Depression relatively unscathed. It’s why Dad’s trust fund was so sought after.

A trust fund that only grew because he may not have had a head for numbers, he had a head for business. He knew when to pull out if something was failing and when to pour more money in if they looked on the verge of discovery.

But it meant that all the teachers thought that her dad didn’t earn having his daughter at their school. So they always went a lot harder on Edie then they did her friends. All three of which had parents that came from nothing or very little to make their wealth. Mandy and Harri were both children of rock stars. Kenny’s mom invented some kitchen gadget that had taken the world by storm and now was in nearly every house in the country.

Harri was only joining her in summer school hell because two of the credits he needed to graduation next year didn’t transfer over and he had zero desire to sit with sophomores and juniors his last year of school.

“They should standardize the curriculum across the country,” Harri grumbled, kicking at a rock on their way into school.

Edie sighed. She agreed with him, but if they had she wouldn’t have a summer school buddy to be miserable with.

“I hear that,” was what she said instead. “And you should be allowed to skip a class if you don’t want to take it. As long as you get two years of math, who cares if it’s just basic math. It’s like judging a fish by its ability to climb or however that quote goes.”

“Right?” Harri agreed. “Like if what you want to go into takes heavy math that sure, you do the advanced math, but if you’re going into art and the only math you’re going to need is fractions they shouldn’t have to force you into bullshit like that.”

They both had to take a math class and a science class, so they took the same ones so that they could at least have a study buddy.

“I hate that I have to do this,” Edie groused as she flopped down in a desk somewhere near the back of the class. “It means I can’t go to the gala this year.”

“Gala?” Harri asked, sliding into the desk next to hers. “What gala?”

“The biggest event my dad does all year,” she explained, resting her head on her hands and staring off into the distance dreamily. “He’s involved in a shit ton of charities, but this is his biggest. It’s like the it party of the year and everyone foams at the mouth for an invite.”

“So why can’t you go?” Harri asked.

“Because for everyone else it’s a one night event,” Edie said, “but for my dad it’s a week long thing just prepping for it. And because I have summer school, I can’t help him. His rule has always been that I’ve been too young and that was supposed to change this year. I was going to help out and get to go. But because I have this stupid shit, I have to spend the week at Mandy’s.”

“You’re nearly eighteen,” Harri protested. “Can’t you be left home alone?”

Edie sighed. “If it was about Dad being gone all the time, sure. But it’s not. It’s held at the house. Or rather the backyard. There are people coming and going all hours of the day and night. Setting up lights, preparing food, setting up tables. It’s a whole thing. And if I want to actually pass these classes...”

Harri winced. “You can’t be around all that shit...Point well and truly taken. So what are you going to do instead?”

Edie shrugged. “Normally Mr Lawrence lets Mandy have a party that night and we stay up late watching movies, but I think the Lawrences are going this year, so I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Harri opened his mouth to ask another question, but the teacher chose that moment to walk in and they were forced to pay attention to the class.

***

Part 18 Epilogue

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @cardigangoth @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter @nerdsconquerall @stxrcrossed186

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #reconnecting years later AU #ladykailtiha writes

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torturedpoetemotions · 3 months

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A little Nandermo fic for February (the first of many).

Read on AO3

Ever since Guillermo got back from England, Nandor has been acting very strange. Guillermo hasn't said anything about it. He hasn't asked. But he's noticed. How could he not? He spent every day by Nandor's side for twelve years. He knows him, all his habits and moods and tells.

He knows when he's lying, or hiding. He knows when he's upset, when he's holding something back. He knows what it looks like when he's nervous, sad, disappointed.

What he doesn't quite know is why Nandor seems to cycle through all those emotions and then some whenever they're alone together these days.

It started when he was first let out of the shipping crate--a grievance he is still going to exact vengeance on Nadja and Laszlo for, one of these days. Nandor was happy to see him, transparently so. It took Guillermo’s breath away a little, actually, even in the midst of his anger. He'd been away from Nandor for an entire year, and so much had changed, and he was so angry at him–for leaving without Guillermo, for not looking for him or reaching out. But even with all that, the sight of him knocked Guillermo back a step, made him feel like he had to run before he got pulled back into Nandor’s orbit.

Of course, that didn’t exactly go according to plan.

One minute he was screaming goodbye forever, the next he was falling, screaming, no time to think or take a breath before he was plunged into freezing, putrid water, flailing, his clothes weighing him down too much to get to the surface…

And then there were arms around him, holding him tight, lifting him up. He’d clutched at the hands on his chest, afraid to fall, and realized with a shock that he knew those arms, those hands.

Oh, was his first thought. I’m okay. Nandor’s got me.

Then he was in the air, Nandor practically squeezing the water he’d inhaled out of him before he set him down gently and immediately went to fetch him a towel and robe, without even being asked.

When their eyes met as Nandor handed the neatly folded pile over to him, it was like an audible click, two matching pieces of a puzzle slotting into place.

Guillermo had told himself he was just glad to be back home.

But then Nandor got all cryptic and serious, announcing his wedding plans and asking Guillermo to be his best man with the same gravitas he'd once asked him to travel the world. And then...

Then he’d actually looked disappointed when Guillermo said he wasn’t jealous. Nandor was subdued the rest of the day, in fact, even as he showed off his treasure horde and threw himself into discussing his wedding plans. Maybe no one else would notice it, but Guillermo did.

And so the pattern had been set, and continued whenever they were alone together. When they’re wedding planning, or out on an errand, Nandor treats him so differently from before. He asks Guillermo’s opinions and actually seems to care about his answers. He remembers things, too, like that Guillermo needs to eat actual human food once in a while, and is supposed to have a day off each week. He laughs openly at Guillermo’s jokes now, instead of pretending to be annoyed by them.

Sometimes Guillermo will catch Nandor throwing him these little glances, too, his face open and delighted, just like that first night back. Like doing everyday, mundane things with Guillermo makes him so happy he can’t contain it behind his usual aloof façade.

Then, inevitably, he’ll meet Guillermo’s eyes and grow suddenly somber, devolving quickly into sad and distant. He'll start to fidget with his hands or his rings, avoiding Guillermo's eyes. Often he’ll suddenly recall something else he ought to be doing, and Guillermo won’t see him for the rest of the night.

Once could be chance, twice a coincidence…but Guillermo stopped counting after the sixth time this pattern repeated and he had to watch, bewildered, as Nandor ran off claiming he had forgotten an urgent favor for Laszlo.

It’s driving Guillermo up the wall.

The thing is, he has his suspicions as to what this is all about. Unlikely as they might have once seemed, he doesn’t think he’s wrong about those suspicions…and all he can think is why now? Why, after years of indifference to lukewarm tolerance at best, does Nandor have to choose now to look at Guillermo like he actually sees him? To act like he wants Guillermo’s undivided attention, craves it even?

A year ago, hell, even six months ago Guillermo would’ve done anything to have Nandor treating him like this. But now…things are different. Complicated. He isn’t the same perpetually single twenty-something virgin with no social life pining after the man who is both the embodiment and gatekeeper of all his dreams. He’s thirty-one, and no longer single. Or a virgin. And maybe he’s starting to have new dreams now.

His boyfriend Freddie, for example. He’s a dream come true! Smart, sweet, attentive. A great listener. Thoughtful. Selfless, effusive. Guillermo never doubts his worth or that he’s wanted and appreciated when it comes to Freddie. He’s never felt lonely with Freddie right next to him. He never has to beg for scraps of affection, or brace himself for sudden rejections. Freddie was open and explicit about his attention, right from the start. If anything, Freddie is too effusive, reducing Guillermo to blushing and smiling so hard it hurts on a regular basis with his open displays of affection, pet names, and easy I love yous.

And okay, sure, he doesn’t know everything about Guillermo’s life. But if that was a disqualifier, well, then Guillermo’d just have to die alone, because what sane person could he ever share the whole truth of himself with? Nice men don’t typically go for guys who spent their twenties aiding and abetting in hundreds of murders. And that’s what Guillermo wants, what he needs right now. Someone nice.

So why did Nandor have to choose now to start giving Guillermo the attention and appreciation he’s been begging for since he was nineteen years old?

And why can’t Guillermo stop looking forward to those evenings he spends with Nandor, collecting stolen moments alone?

It all starts to come to a head on a rainy night in February.

Freddie is five hours ahead, so they had their Valentine’s Day video chat earlier in the evening. Now here Guillermo is, with the whole night stretching out empty before him, alone on Valentine’s Day despite having a boyfriend for the first time in his life. He tries not to let it get him down, smiling at the text full of heart emojis Freddie sent before he went to bed and the flowers currently blooming in a vase on Guillermo’s night stand. They arrived without warning on the doorstep early that morning, along with a sweet card Guillermo currently has pinned to the wall above his bed.

He isn’t alone on Valentine’s Day, he reminds himself. Not really. He had his time with Freddie, long-distance though it was, and now he can go about his night and pretend as though nothing at all special is happening this evening.

But of course, it isn’t that simple. Guillermo’s life never is. When he opens the curtain that conceals his room he nearly has a heart attack, leaping back to put distance between himself and the looming figure standing in his doorway.

“Relax, Guillermo, it is only me! Yeesh!”

Guillermo pries his fingers off the stake he dove for and draws his hand out, leaving the weapon hidden beneath his pillow.

“You can’t sneak up on me like that, Master!” He grouses. Nandor gives him an apologetic smile.

“What did you need?” Guillermo asks. Immediately, he knows something is up when Nandor starts fidgeting with the ring on his index finger.

“I was wondering if you would accompany me this evening. On a…” he hesitates. “On a walk.”

“A walk? Guillermo asks, eyebrow raised.

“Fine, a hunt!” Nandor says. “I wish to have company as I hunt for dinner in the park, and I do not wish that company to be Laszlo or Nadja this evening. They are very annoying to be around this time of year.”

Ah. Right. That makes sense. Guillermo shudders to imagine what those two are like on Valentine’s Day, given how they are the rest of the year. Thankfully, he has never had to witness it firsthand.

Now that he thinks about it…he almost always ends up on some sort of solo errand with Nandor on Valentine’s Day. Maybe this is why? Nandor doesn’t want to third-wheel on Nadja and Laszlo’s dates?

He smiles up at Nandor, trying to parse the mixture of warmth and annoyance at the thought that they’ve had a tradition all this time and he didn’t even realize it.

“Sure, Master,” he says. “I’d love to go on a hunt with you.”

He tries not to enjoy the look on Nandor’s face at his response, or the way it makes his heart skip a beat. This is nothing out of the ordinary, he insists to himself. Not if they’ve done it every year as long as they’ve known each other. It’s like…their Thing. Their friendly, totally platonic thing that he has no reason to feel a twinge of guilt about.

He grabs that excuse with both hands, and goes to get his coat.

Spring is coming on early this year, the night unseasonably warm for mid-February. Guillermo actually steps back inside after feeling the temperature to toss his coat at the coat rack, knowing he’ll be sweating in the humid spring air in no time if he wears it. Other than that it’s a beautiful night, the nearly-full moon filtering down through a thin blanket of clouds, casting everything in shades of blue shadow and soft silver. The air in the park smells of melting snow, wet grass, and ozone, foretelling oncoming rain. But for now there’s only a slight breeze that teases at Guillermo’s collar, sending little tendrils of chill down his neck as he takes two steps to keep pace with each one of Nandor’s long strides.

Nandor has been uncharacteristically quiet since they entered the park, but the silence feels comfortable between them. Easy. He keeps stealing glances at Guillermo when he thinks Guillermo isn’t looking. He’s also sticking to Guillermo’s side like glue, their arms or fingers brushing with every other step. For a moment, Guillermo entertains the giddy thought that Nandor is trying to “accidentally” hold his hand, like they’re teenagers on a first date.

But this is not a date, he reminds himself again sternly. This is just Guillermo and Nandor in the park, hunting for Nandor’s dinner and getting away from their housemates’ infernal, eternal honeymoon phase on the most disgustingly romantic night of the year. A little tradition between friends.

He makes himself believe that right up until the moment Nandor’s cool fingers brush against his own, curl around them, and grab hold. He’s so surprised he almost trips over his own two feet, and Nandor has to catch him before he nosedives into the sidewalk.

“Careful, Guillermo!” Nandor says, returning him to an upright position but not removing his hands from Guillermo’s arms. “You do not want to plant your face!”

Guillermo laughs nervously, stepping back out of Nandor’s reach and looking anywhere but into his eyes.

“Thank you, Master,” he says softly, feeling a telltale heat creeping into his face. Nandor accepts his thanks without comment and they continue walking, the silence no less companionable, but perhaps a little more charged than before. It occurs to Guillermo, as they head deeper into the park, that they haven’t seen a single person so far on their walk, and aren’t likely to. Guillermo has been following Nandor’s lead, since the whole point was to hunt for dinner…but Nandor has skirted around all the areas where people usually congregate this late, sticking close to the tree-lined paths that are always deserted by sundown.

He turns to point this out to his master, but something stops him. Maybe the way Nandor’s head jerks to his left, as though listening for the sound of potential prey and not hiding the fact that he was once again staring at Guillermo.

“Master?” Nandor turns as if nothing happened.

“Mmm?” He asks, raising one eyebrow. Guillermo suppresses a sigh. He might as well push a little, while he has Nandor alone.

“Is something wrong?” And there it is. Nandor looks caught out, his eyes sliding away from Guillermo’s immediately, his shoulders going just a little tense.

“Wrong? Whatever could be wrong?” Guillermo stops walking.

“I don’t know…you tell me, Nandor!” That gets his attention. Nandor freezes and turns to him, looking shiftier than ever. He starts to fiddle with his rings.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Nandor insists, not meeting his eyes. Guillermo fights his rising frustration, determined not to let this turn into an argument. He takes a step toward Nandor, reaching out a hand to pat him on the arm. Nandor doesn’t pull away from the touch, but he doesn’t quite relax into it either.

“Master,” he says, in the tone he might use if that were a pet name instead of a title indicating deference. “Please, whatever it is, you can tell me. You’ve been off ever since you got back from your trip.” He steps closer, looks up into Nandor’s face. Nandor still won’t meet his eyes.

“Is it the wedding? Are you worried about–”

Nandor doesn’t let him finish. At mention of the wedding, a spasm of frustration passes across his face, breaking through his attempts at composure at last. He fists his hands in Guillermo’s sweater, pulling him so close that his cool breath ghosts over Guillermo’s lips when he speaks. Nandor’s eyes aren’t avoiding Guillermo’s anymore. He feels pinned by that gaze, unable to move as it searches his own.

“You know very well,” he says, his voice somewhere between a growl and a purr. “That I am not thinking about that wedding right now.”

Guillermo opens his mouth to reply, to ask Nandor what his problem is, to demand that Nandor let him go. Something. But before he can make his lips form the words, there’s a crack of thunder that seems to split open the sky. One second it’s a quiet, humid spring evening…the next, Guillermo is almost immediately soaked to the skin by the deluge of rain that comes pouring down, hours ahead of schedule.

Nandor releases his sweater only to grasp his hand, pulling him along without pausing to explain. Guillermo goes willingly, too stunned by Nandor’s words and the heart-pounding feeling of those hands pulling him in to put up any protest, or ask where Nandor is taking them. He leaves the path behind entirely, ducking through a gap in the trees following nothing Guillermo can sense or see. Then he turns, guides them through yet another gap in the trees, and Guillermo sees a little white gazebo up ahead, tucked away in a circle of trees and bushes.

Nandor pulls him up the few steps into the shelter of the gazebo, the rain still falling like a crystalline curtain all around, its dull roar making the rest of the world feel muted and far away. Guillermo removes his steamed-up glasses and blinks up at Nandor through the curls plastered to his forehead.

Nandor is, of course, more unfairly beautiful than ever in the rain. His hair is a silken curtain, strands of it falling out of his careful little bun to hang in his face. There are drops of water caught in his lashes, and he’s laughing as he pushes Guillermo’s sopping hair out of his eyes with gentle fingers. The sound is quiet and sweet beneath the cacophony of the storm outside this little bubble he’s created for the two of them. It wraps around him like a well-loved blanket, soft and warm.

Guillermo wonders what Nandor sees when he looks down at him like that. Does he ever look at Guillermo and think words like beautiful? Do his hands ache sometimes with the effort of not reaching out to touch? He’s been so nice to Guillermo lately, and it’s throwing him for a loop.

Freddie was nice to Guillermo from the very beginning. Freddie is sweet, and caring, and trusting, and never, ever leaves Guillermo wondering where they stand. He's life and sunshine and gentle sanding on Guillermo’s rough edges. He’s everything Guillermo should want in a boyfriend, and he doesn't deserve what Guillermo already knows will happen. He doesn't.

But Nandor...

Nandor is that thrill of possibility when the clock strikes midnight, the wildness that wakes in even timid hearts beneath the full moon, the thing that makes Guillermo shiver in the dark…but not with fear. Never with fear. He has been the subject of every fantasy Guillermo has had since he was nineteen years old. His unrequited first love, or so he always thought. His unlikely best friend. He is frustrating and confusing and terrible at timing and infuriatingly gorgeous, and…

He’s everything. It’s as simple as that. Blood and endless possibility and death, all wrapped up in eternity.

Guillermo covers Nandor’s hand on his face with one of his own, watches as the laughter fades from his eyes, replaced with something warm and wanting. Time seems to slow to a crawl around them, suspending them in the moment before everything changes.

It's death Guillermo’s been running after, flirting with, begging for all these years. Death of the scared, odd, timid little boy with no friends and no future who let people walk all over him. He’d wanted to kill that part of himself, put it out of its misery. He’d wanted to burst from his own chest, strong and undying and new. He thought Nandor could give him that, once, but now he knows: Nandor didn’t need to give him anything. He only called to what was living inside Guillermo all along. That final transformation, when it arrives, will just be a formality.

Some will say he killed the man he was and left a monster free to walk around in his skin. But what those people will never understand is that Guillermo has always felt like he was something a little bit monstrous. That's what happens to you when you grow up being told that people who feel the things you feel, want the things you want, are something to hate and fear and kill wherever you can. You can believe them and destroy yourself, you can burn yourself out trying to prove that they’re wrong about you…or you can decide you deserve to be happy regardless.

That was the decision he made, when he followed Nandor into the night all those years ago. That was what he felt the first time he picked up a stake to defend his family, the first time he stood up to Nandor and fought him and won. It’s what he feels now, with Nandor still looking down at him in that soft, new way that tells Guillermo he’s being seen and adored for exactly what he is. Every day of his life he’s spent feeling at home in his own skin, Nandor was never far away.

How can a relationship of a few months compare to that? How can it be wrong to reach for Nandor now, when he has always been Nandor's? This is just the universe righting itself at last.

At least, that's what Guillermo tells himself as he tangles his free hand in Nandor's wet hair and pulls him down into a kiss, finally, finally. He won't even have the excuse of "he kissed me first" later, and he doesn't want it. This is his choice. It was always going to be his choice, and he can’t find it in himself to be sorry for that.

Nandor’s hand on his face slides back, carding through his hair, his other arm wrapping around Guillermo’s waist to pull him in close before simply lifting him off his feet entirely.

He gasps as he’s swept up into strong arms that hold him as easily as if he weighs nothing. He wraps both hands around Nandor’s neck, biting at his bottom and eliciting a dark chuckle that vibrates against Guillermo’s mouth and travels down his spine like lightning.

Maybe it isn’t Nandor who’s been off since they got back, after all. Maybe it was him, trying to pretend this fire burning in his chest had gone out when it’s never burned brighter. It doesn’t matter now. The last year, Freddie, all Guillermo’s attempts to put distance between himself and Nandor…none of it matters.

The whole world is just this night and the rain and Nandor’s mouth on his, and Guillermo wouldn’t have it any other way.

#wwdits #nandermo #wwdits fic #nandermo fic #fanfiction #my writing

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