#i meant for this to be longer but the episode is tomorrow so i wanted to yeet it into the world now

[some-little-infamy]

My Person

(Read on AO3)

Eddie knows that the relief of having one of his family members watch Christopher only lasts until the moment he pulls up outside of their house. It doesn’t matter which member of the family it is - they all have something to say about how Eddie’s managing his life. He can’t escape a pick-up without at least one off-handed remark about something he’s doing… or, more likely, something he isn’t doing.

“I just don’t understand why you haven’t found someone to settle down with yet,” Pepa says.

Eddie sighs, barely restraining an eye roll.

“I don’t have time to date, and you know that," he says.

"I'd be happy to watch Christopher more often if you wanted-" Pepa offers, but Eddie cuts her off.

"I already hate how often I'm away from him. I don't want to make it more."

"But it would be for his benefit in the long run," Pepa pushes.

"We're just fine the way we are, thanks," Eddie says, doing his best not to sound as defensive as he feels. He knows that this comes from a good place - that she just wants him to be happy. "What benefits Christopher right now is consistency. He doesn't need to see a rotating door of women at the apartment."

It's at that moment Christopher comes into the kitchen, shifting his backpack up on his shoulder where it keeps sliding down.

"C'mon Chris, time to go home," Eddie says, thinking he's in the clear.

"Hey Christopher," Pepa says, and Eddie freezes. She wouldn’t bring him into this, surely…

“Wouldn’t you like it if your dad had someone at home with you to, oh, I don’t know, help you with your homework?” She asks, putting all the innocence in the world behind her tone.

“He does,” Christopher says without hesitation. “Buck helps me with my homework all the time.”

Pepa shakes her head. “No, but I mean someone who is there all the time.”

“Buck is there all the time,” Chris points out. And yeah, Eddie thinks, he isn’t wrong, even if that isn’t the sort of ‘around’ that Pepa means.

“What about someone to help you get ready for school in the morning? Or cook dinner with you at night?” Pepa asks, trying to narrow exactly what she means by her line of questioning.

“Buck lets me wear my light-up sneakers even when it’s going to be muddy out,” Christopher says. “And he helps me make cookies to bring into class! He isn’t so great at cooking regular food but we always pretend it isn’t that bad,” Christopher adds, laughing at what Eddie’s sure is the last time Buck tried to cook an actual dinner for the three of them, only to end up burning half of it.

“Well, it sure sounds like this Buck is around a lot, isn’t he?” Pepa asks, this time her questioning is aimed at Eddie and not Christopher.

Eddie hadn’t really thought about how much more Buck’s been around lately - playing video games with Christopher or helping with homework or staying for meals. Eddie thinks about how his place was the one place Buck felt safe enough coming to after his coma when he needed an escape from the well-wishers rotating through his own apartment, considering the implication that Eddie was as much of a comfort for him as Buck has been for Eddie these past few months.

“Yeah, I guess he is,” Eddie admits. Honestly, he’s gotten so used to Buck being around that he hadn’t stopped to think about how much he was helping out with Christopher, and how he always seems to be perfectly happy to do whatever might be needed at the moment. Buck even cleaned up the living room the other night while Eddie put Christopher to bed.

“What else does Buck do with you?” Pepa asks Christopher.

“Buck told me the best bedtime story the other night,” Chris supplies easily. “He never reads them from a book, he just tells them from memory. He said he’s going to take me surfing soon, too! Just like dad and Buck too me skateboarding.”

“I see,” Pepa says. “And you trust Buck to take Christopher into the ocean like that?”

Eddie thinks he should pause longer, or have to think about it more, but he doesn’t. There’s a reason he made Buck the person who would get custody of Chris if he dies. And after the lengths Buck went to save Christopher during the tsunami, and the way Christopher goes to Buck when he’s upset? It isn’t even a question.

“I trust Buck with Christopher’s life,” Eddie admits easily.

“It looks like you already have your person then, doesn’t it, mi sobrino?” Pepa says.

Eddie does hesitate now, because what she’s implying… Buck is just a friend. He’s just a friend who likes to spend time with Eddie and his kid. Just a friend who does everything Eddie would normally pay Carla to do, only he does it just because he likes to help and spend time with them. Just a friend he entrusts his child to if anything happens to him, a friend he trusts to do right by Christopher more than any family member.

It never occurred to Eddie that part of the reason he’s so content to not be dating right now is because he’s, well, content.

And Evan Buckley plays no small role in that contentedness.

“I have to go,” Eddie says abruptly, taking Christopher by the arm and half-dragging him to the truck.

His person is waiting.

#buddie #evan buckley #christopher diaz #eddie diaz #9-1-1 #9-1-1 on fox #spec fic #pre-relationship #feelings realization #i meant for this to be longer but the episode is tomorrow so i wanted to yeet it into the world now #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

[cumikering]

Werewolf Keegan x reader 4

3.3k | fluff A cloud floated into your bedroom (part 1) (part 5)

Have you heard of the sweaty t-shirt experiment? That people can smell who they’re compatible with?

That explained how downright addicting you smelt - the lore couldn’t fool him. Humans and animals weren’t that different after all, despite him being able to smell better as a wolf.

You packed some lasagna for him to take home and put on an episode of your favourite show while spooning on the couch. However, with you pulled flush against him, his face buried in your neck, he didn’t show any sign of leaving.

Well, he didn’t want to. It was justified that he missed you this much, right? Sorry, you just had to kick him out of your apartment.

“Keegan?” You tapped his arm around your waist, causing him to groan in annoyance. You let out a small laugh. “Did you fall asleep?”

He lifted his head, eyes fluttering. Oh God, did he drool on you? He brought his hand to his mouth. Okay, he didn’t.

Halfway through the episode, he’d leaned in for a shameless little whiff but when you reached back and scratched the top of his head, he was a goner. The huge dinner probably played a part too.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he rasped as he sat up.

You flipped onto your back, trailing your fingers down his inked forearm. “Well, you don’t have to go yet,” you mumbled.

“I’d love to stay if you let me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his as you smiled. “Okay.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss.

While you got ready for bed, he grabbed his backpack from his car. After making sure his breath was as minty as it could be, he emerged out of the bathroom in a shirt and boxers. He was ready to take the couch, but when you led him to your bedroom, of course he wasn’t going to say no to finally climbing into bed with you.

You switched your bedside lamp off, the light outside spilt into the room through the sheer curtains. You lay on his chest, hand on his abdomen as it rose and fell at a steady rhythm. His eyes trailed down your body, pressed against his in an oversized band tee and cotton leggings.

“I’d love to stay up longer, but I’m falling asleep,” you said into his shirt, voice muffled.

“That’s okay. I’ll drive you to work tomorrow before I leave.”

“That’d be nice.”

He wiggled. “Do you mind if I take my shirt off? It’s a bit warm.”

“Go ahead.” You pulled away.

He took his shirt off, setting it on the nightstand before lying down again. You blinked. He forgot not everyone was a fan of hair, which he had plenty of.

“Or I can put it back on.” He quickly reached for his shirt, embarrassed that you might have found it appalling.

“You don’t have to,” you said, grabbing his arm. He could see the smile as you curled closer to him, pressing your face to his chest. “Good night, Keegan.”

“Good night,” he mumbled, looking up the ceiling with a small smile.

So this was the view when he called those nights he was away. He let out a soft laugh as he recalled the first conversation you had.

“What are you wearing?” you’d asked in a light voice.

He let out a hearty laugh.

“Oh, no! I meant- I didn’t mean it like that. I meant what do you wear to bed when you’re away?”

The heat crept up his neck as his smile lingered. He wouldn’t complain if you did mean it that way, but maybe under more convenient circumstances.

“It depends, but tonight I’m lucky enough to wear a shirt and sweats.”

“Same. I always cover my legs. I get cold easily in my sleep.”

He didn’t mind keeping you warm at all.

That night, being in bed with you felt far better than his imagination. He wrapped his arm around you as your breathing slowed. It was adorable how your cheek mushed against him. He wanted to kiss you again.

He lay there for what felt like half an hour, waiting for sleep to grace him, but instead he was filled with the overwhelming desire to… guard the bedroom? Was this a dog behaviour, like how Raider would sleep close to the door? His finger drummed on his thigh. It was worth a try if it meant he could get some sleep.

He could have shifted right there in bed and you’d be none the wiser, but stripping next to you in your sleep felt violating. Instead, he went to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door ajar (he still hadn’t figured out how to turn doorknobs with his paws), and no bathroom had ever smelt so good.

His tail trashed, smacking the cabinet with a thud. His eye twitched. As much as he wanted to, he wasn’t going to be a creep smelling your pile of laundry in the corner of the room. That, and he didn’t want to risk passing out from all the excitement.

He turned away, nudging the door open with his snout and padded right towards your sleeping figure, thoughts about guarding the room long forgotten. His tail fanned steadily as he stood by the bed, the sheets smelling so much like you.

Keegan needed to be closer. He got up on the bed with stealth, pausing when he couldn’t avoid the spring of the mattress when as his hind legs made contact. Okay, you didn’t move, good. He leaned in to smell you, as close as he could get without touching you. Would you mind if he licked your face?

Wait, no. No. Tingles ran down his spine. NO!!!

His face tilted to one side, and the other, then his shoulders and hips followed. The Big Shake™ took over at the most inopportune time, sending his black floof flying. Did not shifting for weeks matt his fur?

With the tremble, your bed squeaked. You stirred with a soft grunt, face scrunching. He froze, eyes wide like saucers (if he had brows they’d shoot through the ceiling), hoping you’d settle right away. Instead, your eyes opened for a split second. You smiled to yourself and mumbled a syllable before turning away from him.

What did you say? Jake? Drake? Blake? It didn’t matter because in seconds your breathing evened out.

This was a bad idea. He prayed hard you were too drowsy to register the sight, let alone remember it.

Back in his plaid boxers, he nestled against you, his arm pulling you to his chest as his eyes finally fluttered. He needed clean up his floof from your room before you woke.

It was easy to blame the mess on Raider if it was in the living room as the pooch visited almost every weekend, but never the bedroom. Surely he didn’t want you to think he, as a human, shed like a dog in his sleep. Fortunately, he kept a lint roller in his bag, but at this rate he should probably invest in an industrial sized one.

“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” you said against Keegan’s lips, your arms around his neck.

He smiled, squeezing your waist. “I told you it’s a surprise.”

“Am I even dressed accordingly at least?”

He pulled away, taking in your flowy dress and knit cardigan. “Yes, you look lovely. Raider thinks the same. Can’t take his eyes off you.”

You chuckled at the German Shepherd who looked up at you as he scooted closer and closer, impatiently waiting for you to finish greeting (kissing) the sergeant at your door.

“Hey, buddy.” You scratched his muzzle. “It’s so good to finally see you again!”

His tail wagged at full speed as he leaned into your hand.

Keegan helped you lock up and took your hand as you walked to his SUV. He placed your hand on his thigh as he drove and before long, he pulled up at the pretty garden restaurant you’d casually mentioned weeks ago. He picked an outdoor table so Raider could roam around as you enjoyed your tasty brunch. Under the table, his foot leaned against yours.

After the meal, you took a walk at the park across the restaurant, arms linked.

“I think he missed you a lot.” He nodded at the K9 who kept brushing against your leg. “He was so happy when I told him we were meeting you.”

You cooed, rubbing his head. “I missed you too, Raider!”

“I got him a phone before we left for the last mission. Did he text you?”

You chuckled. “Really? He texts now?”

“I taught him to, so he can keep you company when I’m away.”

“Where is it? I’ll put my number in.”

“Check his pockets.” He stopped and turned to you.

You played along, stooping down to pat down his legs. “Nothing.”

“Check mine then.” With his hands in his jacket pockets, he moved the hem of his army green jacket out of the way.

It was a playful excuse to have your hands on him, and if your smirk was any indication, you knew it too. So he looked away, but the smile crept up anyway.

You traced over his front and, after checking if anyone was looking, the back pockets of his jeans. “Okay, that’s your phone… Keys… Wallet…”

“Maybe the jacket?” He removed his hands from his pockets.

You shook your head and pulled out a rectangular chew toy.

“It’s a phone!” You laughed, turning it over to find a dog bone logo behind it.

He crouched to let the K9 off his leash before taking the toy from you. “Fetch, boy.”

He threw the toy as far as he could and Raider, like the goodest boy he was, bolted after it. As fast as he went, Keegan pulled you by the waist for a kiss.

You giggled against him. “We need to watch him.”

“I can’t kiss you with him around. He’s too jealous, keeps staring at us.” He leaned in again.

As if on cue, the doggo barked at you, causing you to pull away. His toy lay next to your feet.

“See, I can’t even have 10 seconds.”

You picked the toy up and threw it, and it was embarrassing to admit that his initial reaction was to also dash after it, his leg already jerking. He hoped you didn’t notice.

Under a tree, Keegan laid his head on your lap as Raider roamed around the park, getting acquainted with the other dogs. Judging by the toy phone in his mouth, he was probably looking for a date so he didn’t have to be a third-wheel anymore. It was about time.

“His handler asked if I wanted to handle him.”

You looked down at him, running your fingers through his hair. It had grown longer than he liked (it was uncomfortable under the mask), but if it meant you were more likely to play with his hair, then he’d gladly keep the length. The least he could do was give you something to pull because he might have just short-circuited from the gentle tugging you gave.

His eyes fluttered, like he was seconds away from falling asleep. How could he tell you to stop but keep going too?

“Yeah?”

You were so pretty with that soft smile. “I don’t know if I can. I’ve never even had a pet.”

“I know handling a K9 isn’t the same as having a dog, but you’ve had him on weekends for a while now, and he looks very happy. You must be doing something right.”

“Gabe will give me training if I say yes, but I guess I’m kind of nervous. I don’t want to not do a good job.”

“Take your time to decide, but I think you’ll be a fantastic doggo dad.”

You’d been helping him with Raider. Did that mean you were the mum? He liked the sound of that very much.

He smiled. “You think so?”

“Mhm. But you’re okay if he stares at us all the time?”

“We’ll have to get him a blindfold.”

The day grew windier as the hours passed. When Keegan noticed your fingers were a little cold, he hastily draped his jacket over your shoulders and pulled you closer as you sat on the bench sipping on coffee. You thanked him with a chaste kiss and he licked his lip when you pulled away. It earned him a soft laugh from you. You looked good in his jacket, but tasted even better.

Your phone buzzed in your purse and you pulled it out to discover it was Lauren calling. You’d told him about her, your best friend from uni. He told you to take it.

“… That’s alright. I’ll meet you there… No, that sounds good. I think I’ll wear one too… Oh, don’t forget the gift- Lauren, shut up! He’s here right now!” You giggled, turning to him as you slapped your hand over your mouth.

Keegan didn’t mean to listen, but he was right there. He raised a brow, flattered that your friend knew about him.

“Yes, okay, fine.” You squeezed his hand. “Yes, I promise! Okay, bye now.”

“Sounds like an interesting conversation,” he teased when you put your phone away.

“Do you remember Nick, the spinach pie guy?”

“He’s my sprit animal.”

You chuckled. “It’s his birthday and he arranged a little uni reunion tonight.”

It was silly of him to expect you’d spend the entire day with him, but he was allowed to dream, right? Especially when the hours with you felt much shorter.

“I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t mind?”

Of course he didn’t. Anything for more time with you.

After you finished your drinks, you headed back to your place to get ready. He sat on the couch with Raider with the TV on, but he was far more interested in watching you move about.

You wore a fitted black dress that came down mid-thigh, but as you leaned over the sink to put your makeup on, it rode up and revealed a little more than he felt he was allowed to see. He forced himself to look away, but fuck, if he wasn’t lying about wanting to see more.

At the door, you gave him a little twirl, all pretty with your hair done, giving him a whiff of your gentle perfume. But that evening you lacked… something. You smelt too clean after your shower, and he wasn’t letting you out of his sight in that state.

He didn’t know where the thought came from. No one would be able to smell him on you, not even himself, but he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled your neck anyway.

“So pretty,” he breathed against your skin and pressed a few kisses on your collarbones.

When he pulled up at the restaurant, he grabbed his jacket from the backseat and placed it on your lap.

“I think I’m good. We’ll be indoors.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

How convenient. Now that would be more like it, his subtle claim on you. At least it would soothe that little part of his brain.

“Let me know when you need to get picked up.”

“We'll probably be done late. Don’t want to be a bother.”

“You won't.”

“I can’t let you do that after driving me here.”

He paused. “Let me know when you get home at least?”

“Will do. Thanks for taking me out today. I had a very nice time.” You leaned over the console for a peck. “Oh, sorry! I forgot about the lipstick!”

He tilted the rear-view mirror towards him, chuckling at the smudge on his lips. When you reached out to wipe it off with a tissue, he grasped your chin and leaned in again.

When you approached the large table, you expected the lone figure sitting to be the birthday boy. But when the man looked up, your smile fell.

“Blake? What- what are you doing here?”

“Hey, uhh, Nick told me to come, said you’d be here tonight.“

“I didn’t know you’re in town. You… never said anything.”

“I moved here a few months ago.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t know how to tell you. We hadn’t spoken in years.”

“And that’s not the same case with Nick?”

“It’s different.” His eyes stayed on you. “You know that,” he said in a low voice.

Your brows furrowed. It was jarring to see him there, out of place and surreal.

“Hey, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I can-“

“Sorry.” You shook your head and offered a smile as you pulled out the chair across him. You didn’t have to make the evening weird. “I wasn’t expecting you, that’s all. How have you been?”

You continued to chat as people filled the table. Lauren was equally as surprised to see Blake, but you gave her a smile when she shot you a worried look.

“Our favourite Brit!” Nick announced, smacking Blake on the back. “Welcome back!”

You were over this - over him, if there was even anything to get over when nothing started. He was never yours, but the first to ever capture your heart. For years, you went through thick and thin with him, as friends even when it was far more than that for you.

You didn’t see a point of having anything escalate and have the ocean stand between you after graduation. So you tiptoed on the border of friends and more, trying to swallow the words despite the lingering gazes and longing sighs. When you couldn’t deny the budding feelings anymore, you knew you had to let whatever it was fade.

Over dinner, the ten of you got each other up to speed about how you were doing. When you went around the table pouring everyone their second glass of wine, Nick held his hand up.

“I’m a total lightweight now. I won’t recover from the hangover this time around,” he explained.

The table gasped. That was the most shocking discovery of the evening.

Pulled into different directions, graduation felt many more years behind seeing how some of your classmates led vastly different lives. A few took a leap of faith, ending up with unexpected careers far from their field of study, some have settled down, some with kids, their carefree personality mellowing as life settled on their shoulders. Some, you also learnt, remained solo, like Blake.

Ever the soft-spoken one, a smile always on his face as Blake gave people his undivided attention. He still preferred his beer over wine. Still asked for no truffle on his pasta, nor balsamic vinegar on his salad. Still scraped the buttercream off cakes. Still, he felt like the one you knew the least at the table that evening.

The ache of it was long gone, but you hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to desperately wish for something yet being powerless over it. It was funny how the world worked, that things came your way when you least expected it, that he found his way back eventually.

Blake offered to drop you home. ‘Won’t be a long drive away,’ he reassured. Nothing was a long drive at that hour, and you appreciated the gesture. In front of you apartment, he turned to you.

“I’m glad I saw you tonight. Can we catch up some more, over coffee sometime?”

You smiled. It was nice seeing him again, nostalgic. You were friends for so long for a reason.

“Of course. You know how to find me.”

He let out a small sigh, his gaze roaming your face.

The clock on the display reminded you of how late it was. “Thanks for the ride, Blake. Get home safe, okay?”

On the way up, you pulled your phone out as you yawned.

I’m home. Thanks again for today <3

It buzzed when you unlocked your door.

Had fun?

Why are you still up?

Waiting for you

Keegan had no business making you smile this hard. Maybe you could stay up a little longer.

@sofasoap @tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @reelovesfictionalmen

#call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x you #cod x you #call of duty fluff #cod fluff #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #keegan russ #keegan p russ #keegan x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x you #keegan p russ x you #cod keegan #keegan russ fluff #werewolf #werewolf au #werewolf fluff

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (3/?)

Chapter summary: Wanda finds you again after months of estrangement.

Chapter word count: 5.5k

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Decided to post this early in celebration of Love & Death's final episode.

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next Chapter: Four

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r - let me know if I missed anyone

-

Three

At two in the morning, Wanda’s insomnia is at its worst.

Sleep doesn’t come despite doubling her usual dosage of sleeping pills, and she considers taking another, just so she can stop thinking about what Pietro said–about you moving on with someone new. Because despite her confidence in your love for her, her faith is waning with each passing day that you continue to leave her messages seen and her calls unanswered. 

She wonders how love–a resilient but tainted one–can survive in the dark. If it can survive at all. 

Wanda remembers reading somewhere on the internet that the human epidermis continually makes new cells every second, so that in just 30 days, one’s skin is entirely new. In months of being apart, it meant that there’s no longer an inch of her that has ever touched you. All that remains of her in you are memories. And what a fragile thing they are, when people are always forgetting. 

Wanda doesn’t want to be forgotten. Least of all by you.

She knows it’s within your rights to fall in love again, and she’s adamant for it to be with her. Her stubborn nature makes her cling to your wedding vow: that if you don’t end up with her, then you end up with no one. Maybe she’s delirious to still believe that you’d fulfill those promises, especially with how hard it is to reconcile those promises with dead silence.

Nevertheless, Wanda tries. She continues to send you mundane messages like a restaurant discovery or what she had for lunch, or a comment on the weather, telling you how nice it’d be to go outside for a walk. 

Tonight, she sends you a text about Sparky’s visit to the vet, hoping it provokes a reaction from you. It immediately gets read. Wanda’s breath hitches when she sees three dots appear right after her message. However, they soon disappear, leaving Wanda to stare at another unanswered text.

Tomorrow, then. And if not, the day after. Wanda won’t let you forget about her.

-

Agatha helps her with the finishing touches on her café, which happens to be unsold paintings donated by her colleagues from the gallery itself that Agatha manages. She’s informed Wanda that she’s considering early retirement to find something else to do, and when Wanda mentioned that she’s opening up a business, Agatha suggested she’d volunteer to help out on weekends in exchange for free coffee and dessert any day of the week. Wanda didn’t think twice to accept the proposal, and they shook on it.

“You have an eye for design, Wanda. You can make a career out of it once your cafe takes off and can hire someone to manage instead of doing it all by yourself.” Agatha says, dusting the final frame they hanged on the wall.

“Thanks. It’s just not me though. I had a lot of help from friends in NYU.” Wanda says, going behind the counter to make sure everything’s set for the big day, two days from now.

“Are you worried about the opening?” Agatha asks.

“A bit, yes.” Wanda admits with a sigh.

“Don’t be. Your pastries alone will keep this adorable thing afloat.” Agatha assures her, admiring the aforementioned pastries currently cooking in the oven.

Wanda smiles graciously, a little unsure if she’d take it as a compliment. With her former boss, it’s hard to tell sometimes. Agatha has the tendency to toe the line between maternal and condescending.

“That’s what I keep telling her.” Pietro, who Wanda didn’t notice entering the shop just now, chimes in. Her brother taps Agatha on the shoulder, making the older woman turn her head in an unnecessarily coquettish manner. Wanda lifts an eyebrow as she observes the two.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Pietro says, before running a hand through his hair and letting his textured, angular fringe fall dramatically back over his bleached eyebrows. “I’m Pietro, Wanda’s twin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Agatha says evenly with a smile, turning around to face him fully.

Pietro stands unnecessarily closer to her and says, “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

Wanda’s never heard Agatha giggle like a schoolgirl, and shoots him a murderous look. Her oblivious brother merely carries on staring at Agatha like he could see through her clothes. 

Squeezing into the narrow space between the two, she starts pushing her brother away from his prey. She can already sense him scheming, and she’s not going to let him potentially ward off the free help she’s gonna get on weekends.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wanda hisses at him under her breath as soon as she’s positive Agatha’s no longer within earshot.

He raises his hands in front of him in defense. “I was being friendly.”

“No, you weren’t. You were literally eyefucking my ex-boss back there.”

Pietro shrugs. “Maybe she was eyefucking me.”

“I swear, you’re going to–”

“Excuse me?” Agatha interrupts, and they both whip their head towards her–Wanda with a stricken look, and Pietro with a cheshire grin. Agatha can’t help but think how they’re both very attractive.

She addresses Wanda first. “I’m sorry but I have to go. Call me if you need anything, sweetie.” 

“Thanks again, Agatha.” Wanda says.

And then she turns to Pietro and winks at him. “I’ll see you around, handsome.”

“Oh, you will.” Pietro answers in a sultry voice that has Wanda harshly digging her nails into his forearm.

He only reacts to the pain after Agatha stepped outside. “Ow! Let go of me!”

“She’s off limits you pig.” Wanda chastises, landing some weak strikes on his arm. 

“Fine!” Pietro throws his hands up in surrender.

Wanda lets him go with a triumphant smile. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought I’d see you on Monday.” she says.

“My friend invited me to this club tonight, and I want you to come with.” Pietro says. 

“I’m not really in the mood to party.”

“You really have changed since you’ve been married to Y/N.”

“Thanks.” Wanda says curtly, and it’s not even sarcastic. If there were changes about her that were of your influence, then they could only mean the good kind. Wanda has long ago learned that she likes herself best when she’s with you.

“Don’t you at least feel like celebrating this?” Pietro gestures at the tiny confines of the cafe. 

“My idea of celebration is just steaks and wine,” she replies, shrugging her shoulders. “Lots of wine.”

“Wands, you can’t keep punishing yourself. You deserve to have a good time once in a while.”

Wanda scoffs. “Punishing myself? Believe me, I haven’t started.”

“Wanda, come on,” Pietro pleads earnestly. “The thing is, I’m planning to bump into this real estate dude, and having my sister to make me look like a decent guy is going to help my chances in my investment pitch, okay?”

Wanda considers the new information. “Why didn’t you start with that in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t want to flat-out ask my heartbroken sister for help. Cause I know you’re… You’re half the person you used to be. You’re not whole, and here I am, needing your help when there’s nothing I can do to help you back.” 

It’s the most vulnerable she’s seen her brother, and it makes Wanda want to gather him in his arms and be children again. 

“Piet..”

Pietro assumes back a sturdy posture. “I’m sorry. I just need you. But if–”

“I’ll be there. Just text me where and what time you need me.” Wanda assures him. 

“I’ll owe you one, sis.”

“Try twenty.”

-

Pietro deserts her as soon as she serves her purpose, and he gets invited to the VIP floor of his prospective investor. Wanda doesn’t hold it against him, seeing how important this deal is to him. Besides, thirty minutes of blaring techno (it’s a crime to call it music, Wanda muses) and seizure-inducing lights are too much for Wanda to bear. She just happens to have four drinks in front of her (bought by different strangers), and there’s just no way she can let perfectly crafted Negronis go to waste. Really, she’s left with no choice but to stay and savor her prized cocktails. 

At least two men–and one woman–have taken up the courage to approach her by the bar, and Wanda only has to show them the ring she still wears on her left hand for them to leave her alone with a polite apology. 

On her own (and despite you being unaware of it) she wants the world to know she’s still yours.

Heaving a deep sigh, Wanda finishes her drink. One down, three to go. She’s already swimming in a pleasant buzz, and when her eyes drift to the center of the dance floor, she sees the last person she thought of seeing tonight.

It’s true what they say about experiencing everything around you slowing down to a stop when your life flashes through your eyes. It’s closest to how she’d describe seeing you in the flesh after a long stretch of only seeing you in her dreams. For a split second, she thinks she might be mistaken, but it’s definitely you when you start doing that dorky mannequin move that never fails to send her into fits of laughter. And that’s exactly what Wanda does; she half-laughs and half-sobs into her drink as you stiffly move your limbs, wearing a blissful smile of your own. 

You seem…okay. Happy, even. Against her will, a deep sense of insecurity settles heavily on her chest. 

And then, as if on cue, a blonde girl mirrors your dance moves, stepping into your space too close for Wanda’s liking. She looks much younger than you and Wanda are, and she recognizes the captivated look on her face. It’s the same look Wanda is giving you right now, the same look you used to give her everyday for more than ten years. Wanda helplessly watches you take her hand and spin her around goofily. And when the girl stops and loses her balance, she leans on your side for support. You let her, putting an arm around her shoulder as both of you continue to laugh at the silliness of it all.

Wanda feels her heart fall and crash into pieces. And the guilt of falling apart at seeing you happy like you deserve to be, comes to her in rolling waves.

She downs the rest of her drink–all three of them–and then weaves through the crowded club, bumping against sweaty bodies to find her way out.  

-

Wanda ends up waiting for you from across the street. She wraps her jacket tighter around her body and fights off the cold by blowing her breath into her hands and rubbing them together. It does little to keep her warm, but she’s too enthralled to see your face again to care. She couldn’t simply walk away and wait for another opportunity like this to come. 

Eventually–after nearly two hours of waiting–you come out of the building. You’re not accompanied by anyone, and you’re peering down at your phone. In the distance, she can clearly see how unfocused your movements are, which makes her wonder why you’re all by yourself.

She’s about to cross the empty street, when you unexpectedly look up and Wanda’s eyes lock with yours.

Her eyes glisten at the sight of you: somber eyes and flushed cheeks and the beginnings of a dazed smile at the corner of your lips. You were always a doe when there’s alcohol in your system, and Wanda could take advantage of that.

She could. But she won’t, even as you seem transfixed as she is.

Wanda tests the waters by taking a small step in your direction. You don’t move an inch from where you’re standing, but Wanda still holds her breath with each step. She keeps her eyes trained on your figure in case this is a hallucination–in case this is all just a result of standing for hours in the cold. But you gaze back at her, equally awestruck, and she thinks perhaps you’re also figuring out the same thing: if all of this is real. 

Wanda takes another careful step while you shift your weight, working out the best way to keep your balance. And then another, until you’re within reach and she can hear your shallow breaths, can smell your scent mixed with your favorite perfume, can see your baby hairs sticking to your forehead. Until she can look into those eyes that always held kindness she doesn’t deserve. 

Until finally, she’s standing right in front of you.

It’s been too long, the words keep repeating itself in her head.   

Without thinking, Wanda stretches out her arm to cup your face, but–despite your semi-drunken state–you backpedal on instinct. Dispirited, she drops her hand to her side and chews on her lower lip to stop it from trembling. You must have sensed her dismay, because you force a smile, before her name falls from your lips.

“Wanda.”

There's no doubt that you can break her if you want to just by saying her name. 

“Y/N,” she whispers your name back, greedily drinking you in an openly brazen manner. 

“H-Hi…”

“You… uh,” you fumble with your sentence, trying to come up with something to say, before settling on what you really just wanted to know. “What are you doing here?” 

Wanda actually considers lying, until she remembers that it’s what destroyed everything in the first place. 

“I was at the same bar and I saw you. I thought about going home, but I couldn’t leave knowing you were just there.” she says.

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply as you assess how you feel about your ex-wife waiting for you outside and possibly catching a cold in the process. Inclined to blame it on the alcohol later, you don’t think you hate the idea that she stood there for hours just to talk to you. It’s so disparate from the time when you two were together, and you were often the one to wait. 

But the truth is, it mostly just hurts. After all this time, it’s the same wound that just refuses to heal. Only now there’s more guilt on your part for ignoring her for months even though you know you shouldn’t feel bad for trying to move on the way you have to. 

“It’s good to see you.” Wanda says after a beat. “I’ve missed y–”

Suddenly, your head is filled with images going down on a stranger at the gym. You shake your head harshly in a feeble attempt to shake off the memory. 

Wanda is quick to assume that you don’t want to hear any semblance of how much she aches for you. 

“I don’t feel–” 

You feel violently sick, but you fail to say that out loud because the next second, you hear Wanda shriek in shock and you find yourself bent over your stomach, emptying its contents next to her stilettos. Wanda hovers above you as she gently pulls back your hair on one hand and rubs soothing circles on your back with the other. 

Your throat burns and you grimace as you stagger back on your feet. 

“Wanda, I’m so–” 

“Shhh… you need to sober up,” Wanda explains softly. You don’t know you’ve been leaning onto her for support until you saw her left hand wrapped tightly around your arm. 

Her left hand, that is anything but bare. 

“Why are you still wearing it?” The question abruptly falls out of your mouth, losing the ability to filter the thoughts that you would rather stay in your head if you weren’t in such an inebriated state. 

Wanda tenses up at the question, surprised that you still noticed. 

“You know why.” she mumbles, struggling to keep you upright. She doesn’t say more, just silently directs you to the pavement where you both sit next to each other.

“Your hair. It’s too brown.” you speak in a slow drawl, still having enough cognitive function to change the topic. Wanda grimaces at the comment, despising her new hairdo more than usual. 

For a while you and Wanda just sit there, basking in awkward silence. 

“I need to call an Uber but my phone is dead.” you whisper into your knees, talking to no one in particular. You look and sound so small, so far from when you were dancing earlier. Wanda tries not to think that maybe she’s the reason for it. She worries at her lip, contemplating if she should call a ride for you. But with your current state, she’d be on the edge all night wondering if you got home safe. And knowing you probably won’t update her, she’s probably going to lose her mind over it.

Rising to her feet, Wanda makes a decision and offers a hand for you to take. 

“Hey. I’ve got an idea.” 

-

Wanda watches you dip a fry into a plain sundae and pop it into your mouth. Her cheeks redden a little when you moan in appreciation, eyes closed as if you were sampling a gourmet dish. She’d never understand your weird taste for putting together two of the things that should never be put together.

“Feel better?” she asks, disinterestedly picking at her nuggets. 

“Much.” you say, licking your thumb with gusto. At this point, Wanda makes the right decision to look away before her thoughts become anything but innocent. You’re starting to recover from your intoxication, and she’s careful not to make you feel the slightest discomfort.

“How’s Sparky?” you ask all of a sudden, remembering Wanda’s text the other night about a visit to the vet. 

Wanda takes a sip of her coffee, then says, “Something about a low platelet count. They just prescribed him some meds. He’s doing better, I think.”

“That’s good to hear.” you say. 

Both of you fall back into another period of quiet.

Wanda’s head is sifting through the many topics that she had mentally filed in advance for this moment, but all she wants is to ask about you and your dance partner. The way she fell into you and the way you caught her with ease wasn’t at all friendly. The girl was obviously smitten, and Wanda can’t blame her. She can’t blame anyone but herself.

She peeks at you through her lashes, taking in your solemn expression as you suck on the plastic spoon.

Are you dating her? 

Have you already slept together?

Has she been replaced?

Instead, Wanda says, “He misses you though”, because she couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing. 

“I miss him too.” you say, and Wanda detects a hint of softness in your tone for the first time tonight.

It’s pathetic how she’s internally begging for you to say the same thing about her. 

(How she’s envious of her own dog for it.)

“You should see him some time.” Wanda says, and at the skeptical look in your eye, she adds, “I don’t mean you visit him at my place. I can bring him to you. Maybe he can stay at yours for a weekend.” 

You nod like you understand what she’s trying to do– what information she’s trying to get out of you. She expects you to dismiss the idea, but you surprise her by saying, “That can be arranged.”

“Great! We’ll–”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Right.”

The stillness and lack of words return for the third time. Not that Wanda is counting. But it doesn’t last as long as the other two, when you surprise her again by offering her what’s left of your sundae. “Want some?”

Wanda smiles at the gesture and scoops some with her own spoon. She misses the little things, like sharing food and killing time in a place as mundane as Mcdonald’s. 

“Are you still using your old number?” Wanda asks, a subtle tremor in her voice. 

You wince, aware of what she’s actually asking. You let it slip that your old number is active when you asked about Sparky. 

“Not as much as my current one.”

“Oh, that explains it.”

Something about her reply rubs you off the wrong way.

“Explain what?”

Wanda is taken aback by your snippy tone. She used to be able to read you so easily, and now she can’t pinpoint exactly what set you off. 

“What I mean is,” Wanda starts as gently as she could. “I’ve been trying to reach you for months. And you weren’t entertaining any of my attempts to communicate.”

“Well. Imagine that.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Wanda asks, voice thick with unshed tears. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

You heave a sigh, and Wanda frowns at that. In such a short time, she’s managed to exasperate you without even trying. 

You pause to gather your thoughts, and then regard her with an apologetic look.

“Sorry…For being a bitch to you, not for avoiding you.” you say.

Wanda wipes a single tear that has escaped her eye with a finger. “You did say goodbye. I’m just too delusional to accept it.”

“You’re not.”

Wanda lets out a hollow chuckle in response.

“I’m delusional for thinking that I can erase you if I pretend long enough you don’t exist.” you say.

She knows it’s what you’ve been doing, but it still hurts for you to lay it out in the open.

“Did it work?” she asks, picking at the skin around her nail until it bleeds.

“No,” you answer truthfully. You don’t elaborate on it and give her the satisfaction of knowing that you’re still miserable without her. 

For Wanda, those two letters give her first, real taste of hope since the night you confronted her about Vision. She knows better than to jump at the earliest sign that things may start turning around, but she couldn’t help herself from speaking the words that are most important for you to hear.

“I love you,” she feels every syllable of them in her tongue, and she cries further when you shake your head.

“We can think we’re in love, when we’re really just in pain.” you say to her with a mournful smile. 

“I don’t believe that. Sometimes they go together, because it’s just how it is. Love’s supposed to hurt.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you. This is something we have to resolve individually, exclusive of each other.”

A look of resignation registers on Wanda’s face. It’s the most meaningful conversation you’ve had since separating, and she’ll willingly let go of the things you don’t want to discuss any further.

“What happens now?” she asks, placing the decision in your hands once again.

“I don’t know,” you say more with your shoulders than anything else. You steer the topic away from Wanda’s persevering feelings for you, and continue with, “I just want to enjoy this meal with… a friend.”

Wanda’s breath hitches at the apparent rejection. 

“You want us to be friends?”

“Honestly, I don’t know yet.”

“Friends....” Wanda trails off. It’s better than nothing, right? Being friends again is a good start. Friends fall in love all the time, don't they?

“I can do ‘friends’.” she says with newfound determination.

“I need to think about it.” you say because in spite of everything, you’re never one to make promises you can’t keep.

Wanda nods meekly. You stare at each other for a few moments, having reached an impasse, before Wanda remembers a major detail in her life she hasn’t shared with you over a text. 

“I have news. I’m opening a café in Queens on Monday. It’s, uh, where most of the alimony went.” 

Your face considerably brightens, as if the past several minutes didn’t happen at all. Wanda falls in love with you just a little harder at your organic reaction to her accomplishment.

“That’s amazing, Wanda. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” she says and blushes at the way you look so proud of her. 

“Wanda Maximoff, Cafe Owner.” you state her new title wistfully. “You make the best coffee though, so I’m not surprised by that…”

Wanda is no longer listening as a sense of déjà vu creeps underneath her skin, recalling how you had said something similar when she accepted a teaching position at Westview Institute.

Wanda Maximoff, Professor.

And when she got that job at the gallery.

Wanda Maximoff, Art Curator.

And after sharing your first kiss as wife and wife.

Wanda Maximoff, my wife.

Wanda comes to, just before you’re done speaking.

“…Is there anything you can’t do?” you say, good-naturedly.

Love you properly. Wanda broods over her regrets. 

She gathers all her verve, only to come up with a paper-thin smile. “You forget I’m a terrible dancer.”

You laugh. “Oh, yeah, that.”

“And I’m also terrible at self-control because,” Wanda admits before she loses the courage for what she’s about to say next. “Because I want to invite you to come to my opening.”

The laughter dies in your throat but the corner of your lips stay upturned.

“I haven’t even gotten my head around ‘friends’ yet.” you remind her softly. “But… I’ll make sure to drop by.”

Wanda exhales in relief. At least she knows when she’ll get to see you again.

“Now, about that Uber?” you say.

“I got it.”

-

Today’s forecast promised clear, blue skies–and yet, the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave Wanda.

She’s never been a fan of boats (and all sorts of transportation for bodies of water), but she couldn’t come up with any other meeting spot where she wouldn’t accidentally run into you. It’s ironic because for weeks, she’s scoured the places you’d normally be for a chance encounter.

Not this time. 

Not when she’s with this person.

Wanda boarded the ferry from Astoria, and it made a quick stop in Roosevelt where Vision was waiting to board the same vessel.

“Thanks for meeting me.” he says as he approaches Wanda who’s standing in the rear viewing deck. The amount of people onboard and the noises of the drafty wind should give them both enough privacy. Wanda doesn’t look up to acknowledge him. She merely continues to observe how the water churns and foams as the ferry picks up speed to leave its dock.

“Threatening to put Y/N in jail if I don’t, didn’t exactly leave me a choice.” Wanda says after a long time. 

“You didn’t leave me a choice either. It’s the only way you’d see me,” he argues, and not for the first time, Wanda sees him for what he really is; a mere school boy whom she dragged into her bed, and indirectly scarred for life. “Plus, you know I wouldn’t do that to her. Not because she doesn’t deserve it, but because I made a promise to you.”

Wanda finally forces herself to look at him. His appearance isn’t that of a healthy person. His gaunt cheeks clearly signifies how much weight he’s lost. There’s an ugly scar that runs from the left side of where his hairline starts, all the way down to his nape. And because of the wound, his previously vibrant blonde is all gone, leaving a dull, sandy color of a shaved head.

“What do you want, Vision?” Wanda whispers, feeling more sorry for him than anything. 

“You.” Vision states obviously. “I know you’re no longer married.”

“I told you it’s over,” Wanda says mutely. “Back when I was still married. Nothing has changed.”

“When this thing between us started, you knew the worst that could happen. You took the risk. That can’t be for nothing.” Vision’s impassioned plea makes her want to throw up. Wanda wants to deny each of his points, but she’d only be fooling herself. 

She did know that there’s a chance you’d discover the affair on your own, and yet she did it anyway. And that’s something she’ll never forgive herself for.

Wanda studies Vision for a moment. She can’t fathom how she ever made the mistake of using him to fill a gap that she couldn’t put a name to–a gap that is deeper and larger in the aftermath of her extramarital affair. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for doing this to you. I’m the worst thing to happen to you and Y/N. I’m sorry for this,” Wanda allows herself to lightly trace the wound on his head as a gesture of sympathy. “Don’t blame her, please. I put her through unimaginable pain for her to have done this.”

Wanda allows him to remove her hand from his face and clasps them in his. It’s the one last thing she can do for him.

“You’re so beautiful.” Vision murmurs, trying to keep his emotions at bay. “I don’t mind having my skull smashed a thousand times if it means I could have you all over again.”

Wanda gasps and promptly backs away, effectively freeing her hand from Vision’s hold.

“Don’t say that. You could’ve died!” 

Vision smirks and Wanda sees a flash of arrogance he held when he was still her student.

“It’s not so different from what you’re doing to me right now.” he says, and Wanda resists the urge to purse her lips.

“You don’t want me, Vision. You’re young and you have so much to offer–”

“–so much potential, so much capable of great things. Yes, Wanda, I know because you made me see it. You believed in me when no one else would. You saved me from being… worthless.” Vision slides down to the deck, leaning against the railing. He groans in pain, massaging his temples, as if rubbing it hard enough would make all of his problems go away.

Wanda crouches beside him, and then says, “I didn’t save you. I used you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Vision keeps his eyes closed in an effort to avoid the tears threatening to spill. “Are you… are you back together?”

“No.”

A flicker of hope flashes in his eyes. It glows brighter than the sun as he asks, “Did you ever love me?”

Wanda dares to meet his gaze, and there’s no hesitation in the way she says, “No.”

Vision swallows hard and firms his jaw; a showcase of blind resolution that Wanda doesn’t know how to extinguish. 

“I don’t believe you.”

Wanda says nothing. She merely stands up and puts more distance between them.

“You don’t fuck someone like you’ve fucked me and not have feelings.” Vision insists, clinging to the memories of intimately knowing the woman in front of him.

It’s then that Wanda loses her patience.

“You’re a kid,” Wanda snaps, her fingers tightening around the metal rod she’s holding onto. “People lie all the time: with their words, their actions, their bodies. You’re naive to assume you know anything just because you had the best fuck of your life.”

Vision is drawing heavy breaths the second she’s done speaking, as if the weight of Wanda’s words were enough to sink him to the bottom of the sea, desperate for air. Wanda, on the other hand, is equally shocked and simultaneously disgusted at her cruelty towards someone who’s begging for love–begging like she is for yours. What she did to you warranted a punishment that’s ten times greater than he had gotten, and yet you never spoke ill of her, never tried to hurt her as sharply as she did Vision. 

Vision–this charming, brilliant, handsome young man who didn’t do anything wrong but succumbed to his boyish desires. Who she just maimed with her words. 

The ferry arrives in Long Island. People start gathering their belongings before they head towards the exit. Wanda glances at her wristwatch. She’s late for her first staff session with Agatha. 

“Vis,” Wanda croaks. “I wish I could give you what you want, but I can’t. I just can’t, okay? She’s everything to me.”

Vision is quiet, gazing at the sea with a faraway expression.

“It’s more than presumptuous of me to ask you this, but I’m going to ask anyway: forgive Y/N. Please don’t come after her for what happened. I’ll… I’ll pay for the damages.”

Vision lets out a humorless laugh, and then, without looking at her, says, “Just go, Ms. Maximoff.”

-

Monday

It’s nine-thirty in the evening, and Wanda ushers out the last of the customers to grace her opening day. 

You didn’t show up.

“Thank you so much, please come again!” she brightly exclaims with just a hint of tiredness from being all over the place for hours. It wasn’t a blockbuster where the lines would reach the next block, but it didn’t fall flat either. Her pastries were all sold out, and she hadn’t expected the need to place orders to her suppliers so soon.

For all that, as she flips the door sign from ‘Hi, We’re Open’ to ‘Sorry, We’re Closed’, the rush of today’s triumphs also leaves her. 

And then she sits alone in one of the barstools facing the window and patiently waits.

The gap widens some more.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #wanda maximoff #marvel #unbetad #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #my writing #my fic #angst

[lcvejoy]

i want you to stay

wilbur soot x gn!reader

tw: crying? breakups? angst? hurt/comfort maybe ig kinda? very abrupt ending.

word count: 1,068

a/n: this is my first fic so be very gentle with me lmao. it’s angsty tho! we love angsty! angsty is so fun! sorry in advance this prolly isn’t the grandest, but it’s a start!

it’s been 4 months. it’s meant to be easier by now.

the breakup had been mutual. you thought that mutual breakups were supposed to be easier to cope with but these 4 months have proven otherwise.

you wish it had been messy. that there was a catastrophic argument, a slammed door and car headlights.

instead, it was mutually agreed upon that you and wil were just at two very different stages of life. with his music and your studies, you both ran out of time for eachother.

at first, you and wil spoke often. you texted daily, he called weekly, each conversation still ended with a rushed “i love you”.

but that faded out. it got quiet. it got still.

and now it’s been 4 months, and you’re sitting on your couch watching a re-run episode of a comedy show that hasn’t aired in 7 years while eating leftover take-out.

there’s a quick knock at the door. you rush to answer. you’re met with a mop of brown hair, eyes that hold so much glimmer you’d mistake it for a galaxy, and an all too familiar khaki coat.

“wil?”

he’s out of breath, leaning slightly against the doorframe with one hand while puffing out his cheeks as he takes in dramatic breaths.

“i leave tomorrow… f-for america” he takes a breath in, standing upright now, “i just wanted to say goodbye. i’ll be gone a couple months” he finishes, waiting.

“oh” you splutter, “okay”.

“okay” he agrees. he’s searching your eyes as he pauses. the pause feels too long. there’s a feeling of wariness, both of you are unsure exactly what to say.

“well… b-bye” you finally mutter, looking down at your feet.

he lets out a breath. “bye” he whispers, and begins turning around to walk off your front porch step. you stay planted where you are, refusing to watch him walk away but listening to each step he takes.

he stops abruptly. you can hear his shoes plant themselves under pebbles, can hear him taking long inhales and shaky exhales. you wait.

“ask me to stay.” his voice comes out shaky. you look up, he’s facing away from you, looking down at his feet as he plays with the hem of his coat.

“what?” you ask, though it sounds more like a plea coming from your lips. “please” he mutters, turning around to face you. you lock eyes for the first time in months. you realize you can no longer read his expression. you can’t tell what he’s feeling just by looking at his eyes. it breaks you a little more.

“a-ask me to stay. please, just ask me to stay” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear it, like it’s a secret he’s been keeping. his eyes are glossed over. you feel your own begin to well-up with tears.

“i’ll stay if you ask” he shakes his head, looking back down at his feet. “i-i’ll do anything you ask. i’ll call off the whole tour. i-“ his voice breaks, he looks back up at you, both of your cheeks wet with tears. “please” he begs.

you shake your head, closing your eyes to force yourself not to look at him. he waits for you to answer, to think, to feel. he’s always been patient with you.

you open your eyes to meet his - “i cant” you whisper, “you want this too badly, wil”.

“i want you more” he responds quickly, with a firm but wavering voice, “i want you more” he repeats, as if convincing himself it’s true. you shake your head again, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a sob. the tears are pouring now.

“i-i cant ask you to drop your whole tour just for me, wil. even if you want me to, i couldn’t-i cant do that” you pause to take a shuddered breath, looking at him once again. he stands there, staring, tears streaming down his cheek like a waterfall. “i would never do that” you finish. you stare at one another, both of your tears never falter.

finally, he breaks.

his knees buckle from underneath him as he falls to the ground. sobs wrack his whole body. he brings his hand up to his eyes to shield you from seeing his face as it crumples.

“wil?” you start, edging toward him slowly.

“wil?” you try again, slowly lowering yourself in front of him to match his height.

his breathing is sporadic as he tries to calm down his sobs, desperately wiping his tears on his sleeve.

“im sorry” he chokes out, as he continues to fall apart in front of you. you place a hand on his shoulder in a desperate attempt to comfort him. “i just-“ he continues “i just really fucking miss you” he looks up now, his face red and splotchy from the tears, his nose running, his hair messier than ever. “i miss you and i-i would do anything you asked of me if it meant i get to come home” he whimpers.

your chest hurts - as if your already shattered heart has just been smashed into a million unfixable pieces. you look at him desperately, like you’re asking him how do i fix this? tell me how to fix it. how can i take your pain away?

“you can come home” you whisper, new tears gather in your eyes, “i-“ you take a deep breath “c-can you stay the night? i haven’t been sleeping well”.

his eyes widen with an almost childlike astonishment.

“just for tonight” you state “and tomorrow you’ll go on tour as planned. and we’ll call everyday until you come back home. y-you can tell me about how awful america is through each city”

he laughs wetly, wiping his remaining tears on his sleeve once more. you do the same.

he grabs both of your hands in his and begins to stand, causing you to follow his actions. he grips tightly, almost hugging your hands into his chest. “okay” he whispers.

you smile lightly at him and begin leading him into the front door, where you both have countless memories and you both hope to make countless more.

you lead him to the bed that never quite felt like yours without him in it, and, like muscle memory, you lay together like you had once done every night.

you don’t have much trouble sleeping that night.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot angst #how do yall do this #i don’t understand tags

[hopefulromances]

can you do 37. “Is that my shirt?” with jamie? also love your writing <3

Thank you so much dear! Thank you for the ask!

37. “Is that my shirt?”

You stretched out on the sofa, feeling the stretch all the way from your fingers down to your toes. Jamie was out at some away game. You wanted to come but it didn't match up quite right with your work schedule, so you had to stay behind this time.

You missed Jamie so much, you really did. But man was it nice to have some alone time. All day everyday you were constantly bombareded with social interactions. From work, colleagues, after work activites, then going to pick Jamie up from training, you rarely had a moments peace.

Jamie was due back the next day, and you were excited to have him home. You couldn't wait for him to walk through the door, excitedly telling you about the city they had visit, what rom com Ted had forced them to watch, and the exciting play-by-play of the game. After about an hour of listening to him, he would ask you how you had managed the weekend without him to which you would respond with telling him your exciting weekend plans (which mainly contained lots of baths and New Girl marathons).

Which was exactly what you were up to at this moment. You laid out on your couch, an episode of New Girl that you'd seen a million times playing on the TV that you weren't really watching, while you played a mindless app game on your phone. Tomorrow night you'd most likely be doing the same thing except Jamie would be there.

To mimic that, you'd gone over into his single drawer that he had at your place and stolen one of his shirts. As much as you loved your alone time, Jamie's presence was one that you needed in your life. His upbeat yet laidback energy helped you to relax and wearing his clothes when he wasn't around helped you to find that energy.

Not that he knew that, of course. You weren't sure how he'd feel about you stealing his clothes just yet. Having just passed the 8 month mark in your relationship.

You felt yourself just start to nod off, when you vaguely heard the door open and close. At first it seemed like the dreaming part of your brain making it up. Jamie wasn't meant back until tomorrow and no one else had a key to your place. But then a voice confirmed that someone was indeed in your apartment.

"Is that my shirt?"

Your eyes flew open as you looked up to see Jamie smiling at you from the doorway.

"Jamie!" you exclaimed, scrambling up from your spot on the couch.

He opened his arms to welcome you in as you embraced him hastily. The shirt was no match for the real presence of Jamie Tartt. He chuckled as he pulled back breifly to look down at you.

"That's my shirt." He repeated, looking down at the Manchester City shirt you were wearing.

Your cheeks began to burn as you realized your situation. No pants, wearing Jamie's shirt, and nothing else. You pulled on the bottom of the shirt. "Oh... yeah it is."

"Aww, you missed me, did ya?" He teased, pinching your cheek. You batted away his hand and frowned.

"No! I just... liked the fit is all!" You denied, though you knew he was completely right.

Jamie couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by his affection for you. He pulled you into another embrace, his arms keeping you tight against him.

"Well, I'm home now, sweetheart, no need to steal my clohtes anymore." But he was quick to add. "But you're free to if you want cause you look fit as fuck in my shirt." He reached down and pinched your ass, pulling a squeak from you before you dissolved into laughter.

"You want to know what looks even better?" You asked, releasing him from the hug.

"What?" He cocked his head at you. God, he was so cute.

"Me without the shirt."

"I have to agree with you there."

Let's just say you weren't wearing Jamie's shirt for much longer after that.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fluff #drabble night

[baronessblixen]

Prompt: 23. "No, you won't understand, ever."

A different kind of post-episode fic for "The Unnatural": After his and Scully's baseball date, Mulder runs into Diana. (spoiler alert: this is an MSR fic) wc: 1,226

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 21: No Longer Stuck In The Past

He sees her waiting in front of his apartment, leaning against the door, and he stops for a moment, feeling like he’s stepped into the past. Back then, something odd years ago, this exact moment has happened. Except back then, his heart had soared, his lips had twisted into a smile, and her sight was welcome. Today, none of it applies.

“Diana,” he says as a way of greeting. “What are you doing here? It’s late.” He unlocks the door to his apartment and she just walks past him. Her perfume isn’t the same as it was back then, so it doesn’t carry any memories for him. All it makes him think about is Scully. Her softness and her subtlety. The exact opposite of everything Diana is.

“I came to see you, Fox.” She’s smiling and he looks at her, trying to find that part of him that was in love with her. “Were you out playing baseball with some friends?” Her smile is wavering. He knows why she’s asking. And what she really wants to know.

“In a way,” he replies, not wanting to give her what she wants. “What do you want? Is it a case? Did anything happen?”

“No, nothing of the sort. I wanted to see you. I called but… I miss you, Fox.” She’s walking closer to him and he’s rooted to the spot. “You’ve always loved baseball.” She reaches out and touches his jersey. The one that has Scully all over it. Diana blurs in front of him and turns into Scully. Into the moment when they said goodbye. She touched his arm as if unsure if she should let him go. He felt the same. But tonight wasn’t about jumping on trains or breaking into government facilities. Tonight was a new beginning. The start of a new iteration of them. Without saying a single word, they both decided to go home alone. Now he wishes they hadn’t.

“You couldn’t tell me that at work?”

“That’s hardly a conversation for the basement, is it?” She tilts her head, giving him all her best moves.

“You could have called.”

“I told you that I tried. You weren’t picking up.”

“Because I was busy,” he says.

“That’s why I came here.” She’s always been like this. Took whatever she wanted. Even if it meant being pushy. The one time he pushed back, she disappeared into the night without a single word of goodbye. Now she’s standing here, claiming she misses him. She’s the same Diana she was when he was in love with her. But he’s not the same Mulder.

“I’m tired, Diana. I had a long day and I’d like to go to bed.”

“Oh right, you have a bed now. When did that happen?”

“How did you even know I’d come home tonight?” His words hit her unexpectedly, that much is clear. She recoils as if he just hit her.

“Where else would you have gone?”

He laughs. There’s no humor in it whatsoever. “That’s so you. You really think that I- Diana, please leave, okay? Before either of us does something we might regret. We can talk tomorrow. We can meet for a coffee or-”

“Coffee?” She spits the word. “I don’t want to drink coffee and reminisce, Fox.” No, he thinks. That’s not what she wants. She wants to push her way back into his life. Into his pants, and into his mind. He’s never seen so clearly. It’s as if someone has removed a blindfold. Scully, he thinks. It must have been Scully. He thought she was just jealous; that may have played a part. But he sees now what she must have seen in Diana in the beginning. His heart breaks all over again, like it did back then. This time, however, it breaks for what could have been. They could have become friends, allies. It’s not what she wants. At all.

“I was playing baseball, Diana. But I wasn’t with some friends. I was with Scully.” Diana snorts.

“I don’t understand what you see in her.”

“No,” he says, a half-laugh slipping from his mouth. “You won’t understand, ever.”

“She doesn’t get you, Fox. I see the way she undermines you.” Diana is pleading with him. She must know that what she’s saying is far from the truth. But she doesn’t give up. They have that in common.

“You don’t know her at all. Or me, for that matter. You did – once. When I was younger. I’m no longer the same man.”

“Clearly,” she says, derision in her voice. “You’d pick her. After everything we’ve been through?” She takes a step toward him and he lets her. “After everything we’ve done?” Her hand is on his chest and she looks up at him, her eyes begging.

He thinks of nights when they sat here together, talking about the X-Files. Nights where they were wrapped up in each other. Nights full of passion. They’re a part of him, but they’re in the past. And for once, he has no desire to revisit it. He touches her hand and sees hope bloom in her eyes. But he removes it from his chest, holding it a moment longer.

“I’m grateful for what we had, Diana. And I’d like to be friends. That’s all we’re going to be, though.”

“Friends.” There’s hurt in her expression and her whole demeanor. She thought she had him. She thought she could convince him. Mulder knows her. He can read her all too well. He doesn’t know why he was so blind before. Maybe he didn’t want to see. He closed his eyes and turned away, refusing to face the truth.

“You’re choosing her?” To him, it’s not a choice, but he knows Diana wants an answer so he nods. “You’re not even together,” she says lamely, making Mulder chuckle in spite of the situation.

“My relationship with Scully is not your business, Diana.”

“You really have changed,” she says, picking up her purse. The pain of rejection is still evident, but he thinks there’s admiration in her voice, too. “Well, I’ll be going then. You know where to find me if you do change your mind. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

He remains quiet, biting his lip. He does know what he’s letting go. And he’s ready. His arms tingle with the memory of holding Scully. Her soft form pressed against him. The trust she put in him to help her hit each ball that was flung at them. Her laughter. The sweetest sound he’s ever heard. And he wants to hear it again. And again, and again.

“You’re not even listening, are you?” Diana says. “I’ll see you at work then.”

“Goodbye, Diana,” he says and she just throws him a look, not saying another word. He doesn’t wait until her steps recede outside and grabs the phone. He dials her number by heart and she picks up after just a few rings.

"It's me," he says, smiling and wishing he could see her.

“Mulder?” she asks, perplexed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay, Scully. I was just missing you.”

“You saw me an hour ago.”

“I know.” He grins. The memory of Diana’s visit is fading already. “But it was a long hour. A very long hour.” On the other end of the line, Scully laughs.

#fictober23 #okay this is my new favorite #i loved writing this SO much #i hope you guys like it too <3 #just cause i like it so much #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

[starrylothcat]

HI ITS THE REX ANON AND OH MY GOD YOU HAVE OUTDONE YOURSELF CVYHUFJOIJFAGURO

just

good soup

(i'm imagining that poor person reading it at Costco just completely stopping in the middle of a busy aisle and people being so pissed at the unnecessary traffic jam)

now if i can ask one more but for mayday this time. the poor boy deserves it after that episode. him with f reader and 16

YES THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING MAYDAY! I'm glad you liked my Rex fic! LOL I have a bad habit of reading spicy fics on my lunchbreak. Costco has to be next on my list (@blueink-bluesoul lmfao) Reading smut in public is master-level control, I tell you 😂 Warnings: NSFW. PiV sexy times. Word Count: 1000 (whoopsie this became way longer than intended lol) Prompt 16: I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow with Mayday x FemReader 😎 This is my first time fully writing Mayday...I hope you like!

Spicy Prompts

Mayday was taking his time tonight, slowly unpeeling every layer of your clothing inch by inch, his eyes eager as his lips left soft kisses on your exposed skin.

He had just returned from a long assignment, and you needed him. You loved it when he worshiped your body like this, relishing in every part that was you, committing your scent, taste, sounds to memory to take with him before he left for his next operation. 

But you wanted something more tonight, your body burning with intense desire, desperate for him to fill you and claim you, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could wait.

 His beard tickled your hot flesh as he kissed down your torso, mumbling sweet whispers of praise as he did so. “Mayday…” you whined, shifting your body under him, rubbing your legs together for some friction that you desperately needed.

He looked up at you, some of his hair falling in his face, looking devastatingly handsome as he did so. 

 “Please…I need you.” You lifted your head to match his gaze, your only thought being how good you’ll feel when he’s stretching you with his thick cock.

“I need you inside me.”

Mayday chuckled, seeing the desperation flash in your eyes.

“Of course, love. All you have to do is ask.” Mayday quickly shed the rest of your clothing and you helped him wiggle out of his blacks.

You couldn’t help but let out a long sigh at the sight of him, his broad chest that needed to be pressed against yours, his biceps that were meant to be wrapped around your body, his perfect ass that you needed to squeeze as he pounds into you.

Your mouth was practically watering as he climbed back on top of you, his cock heavy and hot against your thigh.

“Is this what you wanted?” Mayday teased lightly in your ear as he rubbed his cock against your slick folds. You let out a mewl, bucking up against him, wrapping your arms around his wide shoulders.

“Y-yes…”

Mayday kissed at your neck as he continued to rub against you, his cock becoming slicker with each roll of his hips through your folds.

He was still taking his time though!

“Do you want me inside of you, love?” You could hear Mayday’s voice hitch in your ear, his breath puffing in faster pants as he teased your entrance with the head of his cock.

All you could do was nod and wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer down into you. 

The moan he let out in your ear was sinful as he slowly sheathed himself inside, your eyes fluttering as he filled you, the sensation causing lighting bolts of pleasure to run up your spine as he bottomed out.

 “You feel so good, love. You take me so well, you just couldn’t wait, hmm?” Mayday nipped at your jaw, kissing up to the side of your mouth. "You're so beautiful...I thought about you every second I was gone...especially you like this."

He kissed you deeply as he began a slow pace, pulling almost all the way out before pushing in, both of you letting out low moans as his tongue explored the inside of your mouth.

It still wasn’t enough.

The fire that raged in your body was threatening to erupt, he needed to go faster.

You lightly tugged at his hair, muttering “more” against his lips.

Mayday obliged, increasing his pace, sweat now beginning to form on both of your bodies. You knew his control was beginning to slip too, and you wanted him to fully let go.

“Mayday…please…I need more…” You gripped his hair tighter, his lips trailing down your neck again, beginning to suck and bite at your sensitive spots as he thrusted inside of you, his beard deliciously rubbing against the hickeys he was starting to leave on your flesh.

“I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow. Fuck me until I can’t stand. Ruin me, please.” 

You’d usually be embarrassed by such words, but it was the truth.

Mayday’s hips stuttered a bit at your bold statement, and he lifted his head to look at you. His pupils were blown with lust, and before you could say anything more, you were flipped on your stomach, Mayday pulling your ass upward towards him, your torso and face pressed into the mattress.

 “All you have to do is ask…love.” Mayday’s voice was throaty, seductive as he entered you in one, hard thrust, causing you to see stars. You couldn’t help the high-pitched cry that left your lips at the sudden sensation.

Mayday began fucking you with wild abandon, hips intensely snapping to your ass, his cock scratching that itch, that intense desire to be claimed, to just let go as he hit parts of you so deep you thought you might faint from the sheer intensity.

His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of your hips as he continued his brutal and precise pace.

“Is this what you wanted?” Mayday groaned as he gripped your ass, his hands roaming over your hips and lower back.

“Tell me how you feel, love.” You could hear the shake in his voice. “I want to hear you…I’ve missed you so much…”

You could barely think, gripping the sheets as his hips slammed against your ass.

“You make me feel so good…” You cried through a high-pitched sob as Mayday brought a hand to your swollen clit, rubbing circles that caused tears to prick at your eyes.

“Do you want to come on this cock?” He growled, still circling your clit with precision, knowing exactly how you needed it.

“Y-yes…I…please…” White-hot euphoria was building in your lower belly, words now failing you, letting your unchaste cries of his name do the talking for you.

“Then come for me, love, I want to feel you come on my cock…"

With a final circle of his finger, your climax came crashing down on you, bucking back against him as your back arched at the intensity of your orgasm, his pace not faltering, letting out his own gasp at the sensation of you clenching and fluttering around him.

You were teetering on the edge of overstimulation as Mayday continued to pound into you, his own climax building dangerously fast, his fingers still on your clit.

Your name left his lips in guttural groans as he buried himself deep, deep into you one last time, feeling his cock swell as his own orgasm peaked, his eyes squeezing shut as the warmth of his release filled your still-aching cunt.

Your bodies were shaking, your legs feeling like jelly from the force of your release.

Both of your bodies began to relax, Mayday pumping into you a few more times, feeling the last after shocks of his orgasm subsiding before lowering himself down on top of you. Your gasps filled the air, your bodies thoroughly covered in sweat. You turned on your back, catching your breath as Mayday moved off you.

You looked to him, but he was already moving down the bed, positioning himself between your thighs, taking your legs that were still recovering from your orgasm and throwing them over his shoulders. "You said you didn't want to walk tomorrow, and I'm a man of my word." Mayday rumbled as he buried his face between your legs, your hands flying to his head, digging into his scalp as he licked your sensitive cunt, flattening his tongue and sucking at your clit.

You couldn't speak as he began his meal, still reeling from before. His beard rubbing against the inside of your thighs, sending shivers up and down your body.

You knew this was only the beginning of a long night.

And a man of his word, he was.

A/N: Daddy Mayday will take care of you, don’t worry. Taglist: @blueink-bluesoul @pb-jellybeans @king-chaos-world @the-cantina @wolffegirlsunite @523rdrebel @dukeoftheblackstar @sleepingsun501

#commander mayday #commander mayday x reader #commander mayday x you #mayday x reader #mayday x you #commander mayday tbb #mayday tbb #the bad batch smut #the bad batch #starrycatwrites

[ailendolin]

Hope - A BBC Ghosts Fanfic

Title: Hope [AO3]

Characters: pre-Nigel/Thomas, Jean, the Plague Ghosts

Summary: Thomas can't handle the quiet after Alison, Mike and Mia leave.

A/N: I began writing this after I finally got to see the final episode of Ghosts last January and couldn't stop thinking about how difficult that first night after the Coopers left must have been for the ghosts with the house being all quiet and everyone probably retreating into their rooms to deal with the new situation on their own.

————

Hope

It was late. Not yet past midnight but still later than usual according to the chime of the old grandfather clock that echoed too loudly through the silent house. Normally, Nigel and the others went to bed early just as they’d done their whole lives but today was not a normal day.

Today, Alison and Mike had left.

Alison had tears in her eyes when she’d come down to the basement to say goodbye earlier. It had been painfully obvious to Nigel that a part of her didn’t want to leave but he hadn’t told her that. He did not want to be the person making this harder for her than it already was. She’d made her decision, for better or worse, and all he could do now was support her in it. So he’d smiled at her and said, “Have a good life, Alison.”

And he’d meant it. He and the others did not begrudge her selling the house. They would miss her, though. She had always been kind to them – even if she did call them zombies, once – and made sure to keep the light on so they would not have to sit in the dark. Today, she’d turned off the light for the first time in years.

“I’ll leave the door open for you guys,” she’d said with one last smile. “I know it’s not the same but this way, you’ll at least have a little light when the electricity will be cut tomorrow.”

The moment she’d turned around, Mick started crying.

It was another reminder that everything would be different now, and Nigel wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The hotel would turn the house upside down and they knew their little corner of it would not escape the renovations. Alison had said they would love the sauna but he had to admit he was still a little sceptical about it.

“Won’t it smell if all the livings come down here to sweat?” he’d asked the others back when Alison had first informed them about the plans.

Geoff had shrugged. “Can’t be worse than us, eh?”

That had gotten a laugh out of everyone.

There was no laughter ringing through the house this night; no calls for dinner from the kitchen, no crying from Mia, no music playing. The quietness reminded Nigel of the time when Humphrey had been alive, and not in a good way, and he could tell the others felt it too. Even though no one said a word, it was clear none of them were eager to go to sleep that night.

So they talked – about the time Mike tried to repair the boiler and nearly blew up the house in the process, about that memorable night when Alison desperately tampered with the lights to imitate Robin, and that fateful Christmas Day a little over two years ago when Thomas’s portrait found its way down to them and caused all sorts of excitement.

“Thank god we’re over that,” Walter’s wife said and the others nodded in agreement.

Nigel glanced over at the portrait in the corner where it stood half-covered and among a myriad of other things Alison and Mike had left behind, and thought, Speak for yourself.

He might no longer be blinded by Thomas’s posed prettiness but that didn’t mean he didn’t find him handsome at all. There was just something about the way Thomas held himself that drew him in. Nigel had likened him to a flamingo once and he stood by that. Thomas was graceful, and his voice – oh it was the sound dreams were made of. Misty Glade might have been a mess of words and metaphors but Nigel didn’t think he’d even have noticed if the others hadn’t started questioning it because Thomas had recited it so beautifully. Thomas could read from the boiler manual for all he cared if it meant he’d get to listen to that beautiful deep cadence of his voice again or watch him prance around on stage playing a prince with all the pathos in the world.

If he were pressed to name the moment when he realised the portrait situation had been more than a passing fancy for him, Nigel would say it was the end of the panto. Thomas had looked so happy then – so completely at ease and content it had taken Nigel’s breath away. He’d never realised how beautiful Thomas’s smile was until he saw it that night in the gentle glow of the Christmas lights, and a part of him began to dream that Thomas would smile at him like that one day.

That was all it was, though: a dream. Nigel had never had any illusions that it could be more, which was why he didn’t tell anyone about what that foolish heart of his felt every time Thomas was so much as mentioned. Judging by the looks Jean sometimes gave him, he suspected she knew anyway. She seemed to have an uncanny sixth sense for this sort of thing – perhaps that’s how managed to hide her feelings for Geoff for so long, Nigel mused with a smile.

When he tuned back in to the conversation, the topic had moved from Thomas’s portrait to the panto.

“Oh, it was so much fun, wasn’t it?” Geoff’s wife said with a happy sigh.

“I did not like the sisters,” Mick grumbled.

Everyone groaned and gave him a look.

“You were not supposed to, silly,” Jean said. “They were meant to be like that.”

“Cinderella deserved better,” Mick insisted.

Nigel was just about to remind him that she ended up with the handsome prince in the end when the soft sound of a throat being cleared made him and the others turn towards the open basement door in unison. To his surprise, Thomas was standing there, looking terribly small and self-conscious in the gloom.

“Knock knock,” he said softly without looking up from his shoes. His fingers were nervously fiddling with the cuff of his sleeves, making him look restless and skittish. “I, uhm … didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“And yet you have,” Walter said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring him down. “What do you want?”

Thomas took an involuntary step backwards. His eyes flicked up, just briefly, but long enough for Nigel to see that they were a little too wide; a little too frantic and glassy.

“Sorry,” Thomas mumbled. He hunched his shoulders and turned away. “I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

“No, wait!” Nigel said and before he knew it, he was across the room. Ignoring the irritated look Walter gave him, he gently touched Thomas’s arm – not to hold him back but to reassure him he meant no harm. “What’s going on?”

Thomas sniffed pitifully and hung his head.

“The house is so quiet,” he whispered. There was a lost look in his eyes when he glanced up, and a silent plea for Nigel not to make him spell out why he’d come here. It tugged at Nigel’s heart and crush or not, he knew in that moment that he would not send Thomas away to suffer this loss they all felt so keenly alone.

“It is, isn’t it?” he said softly. Giving Thomas’s arm a squeeze, he added, “Come on, you can sit with us for a while.”

“Excuse me–“ Geoff’s wife and Walter said in unison only for Jean to shush them both with a heartfelt, “Oh shut up, you two. We’ve got room for one more.”

Walter glowered at her. “Not if he starts reciting his bloody poetry we don’t.”

Thomas seemed to shrink in on himself at the sharp words and it took all of Nigel’s willpower not to rub his arm reassuringly – or turn around and punch Walter in the face. As satisfying as the latter might feel, he was not in the mood for a row with Walter, not tonight.

“Don’t listen to him,” he told Thomas instead, careful to keep his voice soft and gentle. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be alone right now.”

The small but grateful smile Thomas gave him did nothing to calm the butterflies fluttering nervously about in Nigel’s stomach.

“There’s enough people upstairs if he needs someone to hold his hand,” Walter muttered under his breath but a quick glare from Jean finally shut him up. 

“They’ve all gone to bed early,” Thomas said with his head bent low as Nigel led him over to a corner. “We … we haven’t really talked, not since–“

His breathing hitched and he closed his eyes against the emotions threatening to well up inside him. As gently as he could, Nigel helped him sit down on the old stone floor before he joined him. He wasn’t surprised when Jean settled down on Thomas’s other side.

“It sucks sometimes, doesn’t it? Being alone with your own thoughts?” she asked kindly.

Thomas sighed and nodded, almost helplessly. “I keep thinking about what tomorrow will be like, and the following weeks and months and years, and I just – I can’t stop.”

Jean smiled in understanding. “So you came down here for a distraction because god knows we never shut up.”

Thomas hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry. I did not mean–”

“Hey,” Nigel said, cutting him off before the self-blame could take hold. “Don’t worry about it. We’re glad to have you here.”

“Some of us certainly are,” Jean smirked, not even trying to hide her knowing grin when Nigel glared at her.

Luckily for Nigel, Thomas neither noticed the silent conversation he was having with Jean nor the blush Nigel knew was creeping up the back of his neck. He just pulled his legs up to his chest so he could rest his chin on his knees and said, very quietly. “Thank you. I … I wasn’t sure I would be welcome, considering what happened last year.”

“Well, you were a bit of a prick, I’ll give you that,” Jean told him bluntly before her face softened into a smile. “But then again, so were we.”

“It was rude of us to interrupt you,” Nigel agreed. “The least we could have done was let you finish your poem before we started asking questions.”

Thomas blinked at them in confusion. “Why are you being so … nice about this? I … I called you names!”

Nigel exchanged an amused look with Jean before he shrugged and said, “To be honest I still have no idea what a wazzock even is.”

“And you know, it’s never too late to apologise for one’s behaviour,” Jean added gently. Almost stricken, Thomas looked up at her. She gave him an encouraging nod. “Go on.”

Taking a deep breath, Thomas met Nigel’s eyes. “I truly am sorry.”

He sounded so sincere that Nigel couldn’t help but smile. “It’s okay. I’m not one to hold grudges anyway.”

He glanced over at Mick who stopped mid-sentence to stick his tongue out to him and then continued talking to John as if nothing had happened. Nigel grinned, glad they’d reached a point where they could gently joke about Mick’s role in their deaths now, and turned back to Thomas. Feeling a little brave, he gently nudged his shoulder and quietly asked, “Do you want to talk about today? About Alison leaving?”

Thomas stared at him, wide-eyed and looking terribly young, and for a moment Nigel could just imagine him as a little boy: all gangly limbs and with a heart that would always be too big for his chest.

“I’d rather not,” Thomas said softly and averted his eyes. His voice was thick with grief as he hugged his legs more tightly and added, “I just … don’t want to think about it for a little while.”

“That’s all right,” Nigel said easily. “What would you like to talk about instead?”

He expected Thomas to launch into a lecture about the finer points of poetry, or perhaps even a poem to keep his mind occupied and distracted. Instead, Thomas turned those expressive eyes onto him and asked, “Would you tell me about yourself? We’ve been living – well, ghosting – in this house together for nearly two centuries and I know little but your name about you.”

Oh, Nigel thought. Panicking, he looked to Jean for help. He wanted to say he was surprised to find her trying not to laugh at his predicament but he wasn’t. Giving her one of his most vicious glares which seemed to only make her press her hand to her mouth harder to keep from laughing, he turned back to Thomas and stammered, “Well, there’s not really much to know. I lived a rather boring life, I’m afraid.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Thomas said with such intensity that Nigel felt himself melt under his gaze. “Simple, perhaps, but not boring. Not with this lot around.”

He nodded to the other villagers and Nigel huffed out a laugh because Thomas had a point. His life, simply as it might have been, had certainly not been uneventful. So he started at the beginning. “The bluebells were in bloom when I was born. I was my parents’ second child. My sister Susanna was born two years before me, and my brother Henry three years after me. I loved them both very dearly but Henry was always sickly and …”

Just like that, he found himself talking about people he hadn’t thought about in decades and sharing memories he usually shied away from and preferred to forget. Nigel did not know why he was telling Thomas all those painful, private things. Perhaps it was because of the way Thomas was looking at him, silent but attentive – as if in that moment, Nigel had become the centre of his universe. Or perhaps it had just been too long since he’d talked about his family and their ghosts were tired of being forgotten. Whatever it was, not only Thomas and Jean were listening to him intently – the others were as well. No one interrupted him as he talked about his short life, and when he was done, Thomas gave him a soft, grateful smile that made him duck his head and said, “See? Not boring at all.”

One by one, each of them began to tell their tale. They didn’t even notice the hours passing until Lady Button’s scream echoed through the house, heralding a new dawn. Looking at the tired but content faces of the people he had known all his life and death as they settled down to sleep, Nigel smiled. They might have their differences but at the end of the day, there was no one he would rather be stuck with in the afterlife than them.

His gaze wandered to Thomas. He had fallen asleep on his shoulder, a warm, solid presence against his side, and his face looked more peaceful than Nigel had ever seen it. He felt his smile soften and suddenly, desperately found himself wishing that this were not a one-time thing – that he could be someone Thomas would seek out in moments like this; someone Thomas might even come to love one day, like Alison or Lady Isabelle. He was so tired of being alone.

“Don’t lose heart,” Jean said quietly. It was something his mother had once told him as well, back when Nigel had confessed to her that it wasn’t pretty girls like Jean who made his heart beat faster. There had been sadness in his mother’s eyes, then, but understanding and acceptance too, and he saw the same in Jean’s now when their eyes met in the dark. She did not make him any promises, did not tell him that Thomas would madly fall in love him, but she did tell him that he was not alone and that there was always hope.

And hope, Nigel thought as he allowed himself to lean his head against Thomas’s and close his eyes, was all he could ask for.  

#thomas thorne #nigel the plague ghost #jean the plague ghost #norne #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfic #my fic

[archiveikemen]

Liam Evans Main Story: Chapter 19 Premium Story

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

Liam’s fingers were trembling slightly, and yet he was still smiling like it was nothing.

It was sad, tragic, and helplessly pitiable.

I reached my hand out and gently touched Liam’s smiling face.

Liam: … Kate?

Kate: … Liam, please don't smile.

Kate: Forcing a smile is an act of kindness towards the people around you, but you’re not being kind to yourself, you know?

Liam: That’s… what I said to you before.

Kate: … That’s right. You said that to me, and you’re trying so hard to smile.

From the moment we met, Liam had told me many things and treated me with kindness.

I was saved by him, who told me with a carefree smile that the real me is precious.

(I wanted to help people bravely face what their tomorrow would bring.)

(But I couldn't erase the fears of the person who meant the most to me and was right in front of me.)

I felt guilty, but I knew that regret would do nothing to make things better.

— That’s enough.

If that’s the case, then all I can do is look into his eyes and say it over and over again.

Kate: … Hey, Liam. The world has never been kind to you, right?

I remembered the way his face looked when he was talking while he stared at the crimson sky.

– Flashback Start –

Liam: Sometimes, I wish that all the sad things in the world will disappear.

Liam: How nice would it be if this were a world where no one has to shed a tear.

Liam: I’m not as intelligent as Will or Harry, so I don't know the complications, but…

Liam: Perhaps deep down in my heart, I wondered if such a world would exist after “fighting evil with evil”.

– Flashback End –

(You know more than anyone else that the world will never be free from sadness, and yet you still hoped for it.)

(This is the kind of person you are.)

Kate: Truthfully speaking, I want to make your world a kinder place.

Liam. … Make my world kinder?

Kate: Yes. I want to turn it into a world where not a single painful thing exists, and nothing can hurt you.

Kate: However, as much as I really want to do that… I can’t.

(Because I can’t change what has already happened in the past.)

(Your curse and episodes may never disappear.)

For the rest of his life, Liam had to live with the core of heart battered and crumbling.

Liam may not see life as a figure of hope, but rather a figure of hopelessness.

Kate: The world may not always be kind to you.

Kate: Living in such a world might be harder for you to do than anything else.

I held Liam’s hand that was trembling on the bed.

Kate: However…

Kate: I don’t regret saving your life that night.

Liam: …

Kate: And I won’t ever regret it. Absolutely not.

Liam’s eyes widened and his brows knitted together.

Liam: … You will.

Liam: You have to regret it… it’s useless. Kate. Think about it, why did you save someone like me!

When I shook my head in response, Liam gasped like he was getting anxious.

Liam: I just told you how horrible I can get when I’m having an episode.

Liam: And haven't you personally witnessed me doing something terrifying? You were even soaked in blood…

Kate: Yeah. … I remember that clearly.

Liam: Then… why?

The longer I stared at Liam, the more his eyes shook anxiously like those of a lost child.

Even so, I couldn't look away.

Liam: Right. Do you know that when I first approached you, it was only for my own benefit?

Liam: I just wanted to be needed by you, so I could feel good about myself. It wasn't out of kindness, it was because of my twisted desire to be acknowledged.

Kate: … That’s how you see it, but it was kindness to me.

Liam: …

Liam: And also… I can’t taste anything I eat, I can’t sleep well at night either. Haha… I’m truly broken beyond repair.

Liam: I’m right next to you, even though I don't deserve you. And yet, I was the one who got close to you in the first place… how ironic.

Liam: … I know for sure that I’ll end up hurting you if I stay by your side any longer, Kate.

Liam: To me, that…

Liam: … Scares me more than hurting myself.

Liam: I’ll fall into despair again if I hurt you and see your sad face.

Liam: Everything, all of it, they scare me…

(Ah…)

(Liam is so willing to hurt himself in order to protect me.)

(He’s used to being hurt, alone, and unloved.)

(It’s… so extreme.)

And Liam’s heart would always be lonely and hurt.

(If you're keeping me away from you to protect me, then I’ll protect you by getting closer to you.)

Words weren't enough to express my feelings, so I gently pressed my lips to the back of Liam’s hand that I was still holding in mine.

His hand quivered, and I heard him gasp.

Liam: … Kate… what are you doing…

I looked up to see Liam staring at me in fear.

I cupped his cheeks in my hands and pressed two kisses on his eyelids, in hopes that I could get rid of the fears hidden behind those eyes, even just a little.

Liam: Kate…

Then his rose coloured hair.

His beautifully shaped ears.

And his cheeks where his long eyelashes cast shadows on.

Kate: … Liam, look at me.

Liam: … Mm.

Our eyes met, and then our lips.

I slowly broke the kiss and to stop Liam from disappearing, I gently trapped him in my embrace.

Kate: You said that you hurt me, but I’m certain that I’ll hurt you as well.

To be deeply in love with someone can also mean hurting them.

Kate: Not just right now, but from this moment on, over and over again.

Kate: It’s not possible to be together with someone without ever hurting them. Therefore…

Liam: …?

Kate: Can we look each other in the eyes, talk it out, and start over whenever that happens?

Kate: Can we live in the present moment together, and look forward to our tomorrows…?

Liam: Tomorrow…?

(Because you said that you liked how I’m always looking forward to tomorrow.)

Kate: Yes. If you’re scared of what your tomorrows will bring…

Kate: Then, starting from tomorrow, I’ll always be reaching out to you.

(It doesn't matter if it’s merely a show of courage. I believe in tomorrow and I will look forward to it.)

Kate: Therefore…

Kate: Please live.

Liam: …

Kate: For me, who loves you.

(And someday… for yourself.)

Liam: You’re… being too nice to me…

Liam hesitantly wrapped his arms around me and returned the hug.

When I reach my hand out to him starting tomorrow, he might still not hold it.

However,

I felt that having my hand serve as a sign of hope was the only way.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil main story #liam main story #niki translates

[wyattjohnston]

the saddest thing i know - jake oettinger

summary: a phone call is made after game 7.

note: this is reader insert and short. otter deserved better.

word count: 725

It’s late, far later than you want to be wake when you are meant to be up at five o’clock to be on an early flight to LA.

You’re managing, though, wide awake because you know that you won’t fall asleep until you hear his voice. If that means you won’t go to sleep at all, that’s something you’ll manage.

The game was brutal to watch, and you can only imagine how hard it had to have been on the ice, to the walk back into the visitors’ locker room after your team had managed to drag a series to seven games, to overtime, just to lose it.

It always takes far longer than you want for the phone to ring after a game—with post-game talks with the team, interviews with the media, the bus ride back to the hotel because he’s going to want to be in a quiet place by himself. You know it all by now, have been through it countless times, so you crawl into bed and sit against the headboard with your iPad out so that you don’t succumb to any tiredness.

A text did come through not too long after the game finished—a simple ‘I love you too’ in response to your own text reminding him that you love him and are proud of him. It’s not enough; doesn’t ease the discomfort in your stomach because you know that he’s struggling to believe it.

It’s after midnight and halfway through an episode of Call the Midwife when your phone buzzes on the mattress and you don’t waste any time in answering.

“Hey Jakey,” you whisper—it’s too late for anything louder.

“I’m not going to be much fun tonight.”

“That’s okay, you don’t need to be,” you assure. You move your iPad beside you and pull your knees to your chin, being sure to wrap the blanket around you. “I’m proud of you.”

“For what? Losing?”

“If they’re letting you think you’re the reason they lost…” you trail off, unable to think of a threat adequate enough for how it makes you feel. He was the most consistent player of the series, the best by far, and you’re almost certain that you aren’t just being biased.

“They’re not,”

“I’m proud of you for how you played but I’m even more proud of your interview after the game. I would have told them all to get fucked.”

Jake’s laugh comes through a bitter when than you were expecting but it still brings a small smile to your face. He says, “I really wanted to.”

Your smile morphs into a giggle, uncontrollable and loud despite how obtrusive it feels in your otherwise silent home. Jake’s laugh grows, too. It still has an underlying wetness to it that breaks your heart but your happy that you’re able to bring him even a little bit of happiness.

“What time do you get home tomorrow?” he asks once you’ve both calmed down. The question cuts through the momentary happiness instantly.

You sigh, “I’ll be back around five. I’m sorry. I should have been there.”

“Didn’t miss much anyway.” It’s easy to picture Jake’s movements, the way he tries to shrug carelessly even though you know that he’s been thinking about it all day.

“I missed you.”

You can hear the sniffle through the phone, and it makes tears start to form in your eyes. You don’t try to fight through the silence, knowing that he’ll start the conversation up again when he’s ready.

The fact that you have to leave Dallas before he’s even returned has been hard. It was easier to stomach with the possibility of a win, the possibility that Jake wouldn’t have to come back to an empty home with a broken heart, but you couldn’t get out of the trip no matter how hard you tried.

Jake shifts the conversation to his plan for when he gets home. Its easy to let him shift back into taking control, sounding measured and composed when he’s anything but, and you close your eyes letting it calm you. His plan is far too much, a grandiose plan for dinner and dessert that you’re not sure even he can pull off—you know that he will, though, because Jake Oettinger has never met a challenge he let get the best of him.

Please consider leaving feedback - reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

#jake oettinger fic #jake oettinger imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #fic: stars #increasing the contrast and making the black darker made the gif so dramatic

[buckets-and-trees]

Tactics

Fandom: MCU

Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 650

Summary: A moment of character study set for Bucky in New York during episode five of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier after he returns from Rica, Latvia, and before he goes to Louisiana.

Content Warnings: TFATWS spoilers, processing trauma and identity

Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty Warm Up: One-Word Drabble challenge. The one word I got was TACTICS.

Tactics, skills, strategies, methods, abilities.

While one part of Bucky organized the components of the bookshelf he’d ordered and chosen to assemble himself, another part of him was analyzing and organizing the events of the past week.

For years he’s filed away things. Information about who he used to be – the good and the bad. Steve stating emphatically that wasn’t you in an attempt to bolster him, to pull him back, to say he trusted him. Shuri only getting after children from potentially pestering him rather than for dangerously being around him, the latter no longer a possibility in her mind. Ayo’s testing and then declaration you are free. Raynor reassuring him you have your mind back.

But did he?

That uncertainty had lingered for so long.

He thought he was free when Steve had rescued him in Germany, only to be captured again, and that time subjugated in every way, for years at a time not questioning who he was, being reconditioned at any waver of fidelity.

Once physically free from HYDRA, it was years of struggle – to piece together his past, to stay hidden, to remain alive, only to be brutally beaten back by discovering a slew of words could reclaim him completely.

Ultimately, yes, he had been released from the power those Russian words had held over him, but this week had called sharply back into question who he was. Zemo had played with the words, taunted the pieces of the Winter Soldier, forced him to actively front as him again in Madripoor.

John Walker had taunted him as well. All that serum running through your veins.

…and though it’s not what John had meant, now that he was home from Latvia, Bucky couldn’t stop thinking that maybe that was the truth. All that remained now was the serum running through his veins. Serum that changed him physically, but maybe in no other way?

Steve had visited him in Wakanda a few times during his own exile. Many a night they would end up awake, looking up at the incomparable stars above them, talking or not talking. Once Steve shared that Erskine had explained the serum amplifies everything that is inside.

After decades of being deployed as the Winter Soldier, Bucky – despite Steve’s insistence otherwise – thought it had to mean he was ruthless, a killer. He’s started to think it wasn’t all he was.

He was willing to consider now it may not be who he was after all.

All of these people who thought they knew him, and so many years of him not knowing himself, but maybe it was starting to make sense.

There was proof in the experience, and what had happened this week was irrefutable.

This was the first time throwing himself into the deep end without handlers, without a safety net of Steve, and now he could see the difference himself. There was differentiation between Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier, even variation between the roots of the Brooklyn boy and the White Wolf awakened in Wakanda. The developments that came with his years as the Winter Soldier were just that: acquisitions, abilities.

In the field again, trying to sort out some good, he could extract the skills, the tactics, and simply be effective – no necessity to deal death in his wake.

HYDRA’s most valued asset, now an asset that could help instead of harm.

He wasn’t convinced yet, but maybe he would be at some point.

What the serum had enhanced within him, he was still uncovering. Raynor probing him about what he wanted, he was still figuring it out.

But for now he could sit with this. Today he believed he was no longer a killer. Today he wanted a bookshelf and books. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, he’d figure out more, no longer the tactics, but really and honestly reclaiming his true nature as it unfolded – as he unfolded it.

Reblog to save a turtle.

Also reblog to save a writer.

taglist: @royalwritersoftheuniverses @competitivedust @alina02

#mcu #mcu fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes drabble #navy and roo sleepover #writer warm up

[starlight-channie]

♡ episode eleven: high (📝...written chapter)

summary: When Hongjoong developed a crush on y/n, he thought confessing wasn't going to be so hard.....until life started throwing curve balls at him. Will she ever get to know how he feels?

polaroid love : masterlist

previous ─ ughhh...

next ─ threatened

a/n ─ this is my first ever written chapter and for those who are still keeping up with this I hope you guys enjoy it. I tried my best and trust me this smau is truly a slow burn. I love y'all bye<33

Dm or send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist

You get out of your room and make your way to the kitchen where you were greeted by Hana making herself some ramen. "I am going out for a bit, I'll come back soon bye" was all you said before putting on your shoes and getting out of the apartment unit. You walk out of your building and make your way to the gate where you saw Hongjoong standing near his car with one of his hands in his pocket and the other one holding a paper bag.

As soon as Hongjoong saw you his eyes lit up and the softest smile appeared on his face, you looked so adorable in your oversized hoodie and your pyjamas running in tiny towards him that he could literally disintegrate in that very second. He waved his hands and greeted you.

"So why did you ask me to come out in this cold ass weather?" you questioned him with both your hands inside your hoodie pockets.

He chuckled a bit at your question and answered "Just wanted to see you". He said it in a teasing tone and manner but he also actually meant it. You side eyed him and responded "Then you could've just asked me to send you a selfie or something", you teased him back which made him laugh a little. You were now getting curious as to why he exactly called you out so you pouted a little in frustration and said "Come on, stop teasing me"

He then gave you the sincerest smile, let out a sigh and responded "Fine, here you go", holding up the paper bag. You tilted your head and gave him a confused look. Wondering what exactly is in that brown paper bag that he was holding up to your face.

"I was getting coffee for my hyungs at the studio and I saw four waffles left at the store and they reminded me of you so I thought I'd get them for you" he answered and happiness took over you and you gave him the biggest smile. You took the paper bag out of his hands and peeked inside it a little bit as you got really excited about the food that Hongjoong just brought you.

"Oh my God this is so sweet of you. Joong, how did you know I've been craving for waffles for such a long time now??" you asked him. He couldn't help but smile at your words since he really didn't know that you were craving them. He felt content and proud that he was able to bring you something that you wanted without even knowing that you wanted them.

"I actually didn't know that but I am glad I could satisfy your cravings", he answered proudly. You gave him the biggest smile and hugged him as a form of thank you and you couldn't see it but Hongjoong was a blushing mess and he could feel fireworks going off above his head and a swarm of butterflies in his stomach because of your actions. When you broke out of the hug Hongjoong's phone rang to which he checked and said "Oh shit it's my hyung's I guess they must be wondering where the heck I am, so I guess i'll just scram out of here since I have accomplished what I came here for".

You gave him a sad look and questioned "Can't you stay a little bit longer? We could take a walk around the neighborhood?" As much as Hongjoong wanted to do all those with you and spend time with you he just gives you an apologetic look and says "I am so sorry y/n but I have to go, I'll see you tomorrow for sure okay! Enjoy your waffles, byee"

"Oh okay then bye see you tomorrow. Thank you so much for the food once again" was all you said before he gets into his car. He rolls down his window and smiles at you waving goodbye before driving off.

You turn around to go back into your apartment building when in the corner of your eyes you saw a shadowy figure behind the gate lamppost. You should be running back inside your building as fast as you can when you see that but the shadowy figure looked similar to you so you stepped a little closer and called out "Hey". Again, you should be running away at the fastest speed but you knew who that shadowy figure was. "Yeosang, what are you doing there??" you asked and Yeosang indeed came out of the shadows.

"Hmm nothing I was just taking a walk around the neighborhood anyways I should get going it's getting late" he said all that in one breath. And before you could answer or ask anymore questions he grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards your apartment building telling you to go inside since it's already late.

You were confused at what was happening so you tried to turn towards him to ask what the heck was going on but he stopped you and pushed you gently towards the entrance of your apartment building saying "It's late and cold, go on, get inside". You couldn't debate with him since he didn't give you a chance so you just obeyed him and walked towards your apartment building.

Yeosang watched you as you made your way towards your apartment building because he always had to watch you enter any building or house safely before he walked away. That was his habit and also a way for him to make sure you were safe. Before entering the building you looked back to see Yeosang still watching you. He waved his hands and gave you a smile and mouthed a 'Good night see you tomorrow bye' to which you just smiled and waved back in return.

Yeosang's smile dropped as soon as you were out of his sight. He looked towards the thrash can near the building lamppost where he just threw a box of waffles.

[tags] @at1nys-blog @dogsongy @erodemyedges @randomness7198 @yunhowooyo @jaycheoluwu @grim-adventures58 @john-joong

#ateez imagines #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smau #kpop smau #hongjoong smau #kim hongjoong #ateez fake texts #ateez social media au #ateez hongjoong #kpop social media au #ateez fluff #fluff hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst #angst hongjoong #ateez ff #hongjoong ff #ateez fanfic #hongjoong fanfic #kpop fake texts #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop fanfic

[nochiquinn]

now that I made the new pinned post, more recent sam updates:

sam's been back in the hospital since last week. this was actually a planned one, for an extended chemo treatment, but it had some complications that made it a little longer than it was supposed to be, because of course it did.

to start with, she went in a day early when what turned out to be a side effect from one of her meds gave her absolutely screaming pain in her back and knees. the medication is meant to stimulate white blood cell production, and white blood cells are made in the bone marrow, so it goes into overtime. apparently the pain is comparable to a broken bone, so. yeah. since she had clinic the next day anyway, they just went ahead and moved her over. now, even though this round of treatment is technically done, she's being held until at least tomorrow to make sure the current medication is filtered out of her system properly. (it likes to eat heart and lung tissue, apparently; don't want that going unsupervised)

we also discovered (not this visit, but a previous one) that she's allergic to peggy asparagus pegaspargase, the kind of chemo she was receiving before. in fact, what we thought was e. coli before (remember that storyline?) was in fact an allergic reaction that didn't get caught before it got Real Bad. (I didn't get into it at the time but there was a bunch of stuff on her chart about "why is she having an allergic reaction, none of what we're giving her is on her allergen list" guess what time to update the allergen list.) she had another Anaphylactic Episode that thankfully was caught quickly thanks to david harassing the nurse's station when she got itchy (I say harassing, they're actually pretty responsive up there). it was similar enough to last time that they were able to put two and two together. it's apparently a fairly rare reaction; sam's doctor knows of exactly three people who've reacted that way. (I told them to put her picture on the wall.) luckily there's another type of chemo she can take, so it's not much of a setback. just scary and upsetting for everyone involved.

it's a lot! it's kind of why the other socials haven't updated; shit won't stop happening long enough for me to update. hell, when I started typing this I thought sam was for sure staying until thursday; she called in the middle to say she might get out tomorrow.

unfortunately, what remains unchanged is the fact that we Need Help. I said it in the pinned post but I'll say it again: every single dollar helps. it pays for insurance or buys insulin or even just dinner. it keeps us afloat while we try to get to the other side of this thing. it literally makes me cry thinking about how generous people have been (source: am crying now typing it out) and it's so, so appreciated. thank you all so much. 🧡

GFM

Paypal

Cashapp ($ceraphena)

Venmo

Redbubble

Teepublic

#update #signal boost #mutual aid request #medical fundraiser #I know I talked about the allergy before but I have a modicum more energy now for Details #enjoy my parentheticals

[fallen-gravity]

For all Eternity

Now that Molly's all settled in back home, there's nothing she wants to do more than sleep. She doesn't want to think about anything that happened, and all she wants to do is find comfort in sleeping in and dealing with all of that tomorrow.

Unsurprisingly, though, the universe has other plans for Molly, and even in her snuggliest pajamas and under her softest blankets, Molly cannot fall asleep no matter how hard she tries.

Notes: 

I haven't been able to stop thinking about the broken curse since the episode aired. I've seen plenty of people worry that it's a bad thing, and things are only going to get worse as a result of it, but I think that Molly and Scratch would think differently.

Here's my love letter to that.

AO3

At least at the end of the day, you can finally snuggle back into your bed where you belong.

That had been Molly’s first thought when they finally finished re-unpacking all of their belongings. She didn’t want to think about anything else, she didn’t even want to consider how long it would likely take her for family to financially recover, she didn’t want to think about things possibly getting worse, and she most certainly didn’t want to think about what the consequences of leaving the house meant for her friendship with Scratch.

He knew what packing up and leaving meant. They both knew what packing up and leaving the house meant. Even if it wasn’t a permanent evacuation like they’d originally thought it was, leaving is still leaving, and the curse is still broken either way.

But Molly doesn’t want to think about that. All Molly wants to do is sleep. Sleeping in the back seat of the family car was just as uncomfortable as she’d feared it would be, and Molly considers herself lucky if she’d gotten even three days’ worth of enough sleep in the entirety of the month her family had been set up in the woods. Now that she has a bed back, all she wants to do is curl up under the blankets and sleep through the entire weekend.

Unsurprisingly, though, the universe has other plans for Molly, and even in her snuggliest pajamas and under her softest blankets, Molly cannot fall asleep no matter how hard she tries. She turns over on her side to blindly reach around her nightstand for her phone to check the time, and can’t help but groan when she sees that it’s nearing four in the morning. She’s not really sure what else she can do at this point, but she knows that if she starts looking through her phone then she’s never going to fall asleep tonight. With a heavy sigh, she places her phone screen-down on her nightstand, and curls up into fetal position. She’s about to close her eyes and try to force herself to sleep for the thirtieth time tonight, but a soft blue glow coming from a little dollhouse in the corner of her room catches her eye, and there’s a painful squeeze in her chest.

She doesn’t want to think about it.

She doesn’t want to think about how she can’t stop thinking about it.

She doesn’t want to think about the fact that she knows, deep down, that the reason she can’t sleep is because she can’t stop thinking about it.

But she’s so, so tired, and all the other times she’s tried forcing herself to stop thinking about it she’s only made herself feel worse, and she’s not sure her eyes can handle crying any more than she already has tonight. 

“Scratch?” Molly calls, and her heart twists painfully in her chest knowing that it’s no longer enough to bring him to her side anymore. She can already feel the tears fighting to fill her eyes again, but she does the best she can to blink them away. “Are you awake?” she asks, knowing full well it’s a stupid question that he’s not going to answer if he’s asleep. There’s a brief moment where she receives no reply, and she’s about to start kicking herself for jumping to conclusions that asking nicely would be enough to wake him, but sure enough, it’s not long before Scratch emerges from the window of his little dollhouse, tiredly rubbing at his eyes. 

“Wazzat?” he slurs, and Molly’s relieved that there isn’t a hint of annoyance or anger to be found in his exhausted voice. Much to Molly’s surprise, he takes the time to float to her bedside, despite the fact that he looks like he’s still asleep. It's almost enough to put a smile on her face, but she can’t help the guilt already building in the pit of her stomach for waking him up.

“Sorry,” she whispers, squeezing her blanket as she sits up. “I just…I couldn’t sleep” 

Scratch is still rubbing at his eyes when a heavy sigh escapes him. “Me neither, kid” he mumbles quietly, almost as if he didn’t want her to overhear. That surprises Molly a great deal; she never read Scratch as the type to suffer from insomnia, and she thought for sure that he’d be twice as eager to sleep in tonight as she is, considering all of the extra work he had to do to keep the house safe.

Or, err, all of the extra work he had to do to keep his house safe. That train of thought hits Molly like a brick, and she frowns. 

Scratch finally stops rubbing at his eyes, and a concerned frown forms on his face after he sees the look on Molly’s. “Everything okay, Moll?”

That question alone is almost enough to get her crying again. She squeezes her blanket in her hands for comfort, and does her best to choke down the break in her voice before replying. “Y-yeah! Everything’s fine. Everything’s totally normal. I just---” she pauses to swallow the lump in her throat. “...can’t stop thinking about everything. I mean, I know everything is back to normal and everything’s peachy keen, and there’s no reason why I should be having so much trouble falling asleep, but…I can’t, Scratch, because everything’s not back to normal” 

“You were homeless, Molly. I don’t think anyone expects you to act like everything is all sunshine and puppies the first night you’re back at home.” Scratch places a hand on her shoulder, the same way he always does when he wants to comfort her but isn’t entirely sure how. “I know you have a whole thing about pretending you’re happy when you’re at your most miserable, and it may fool your teachers and your classmates,” he squints at her, “but you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that if you’re trying to pull that on me.”

“...I know,” Molly whispers, and she finally gives up and lets the building tears pour down her cheeks. “But…I’m not even talking about all of that” 

“...Oh?” Scratch’s hand slips from her shoulder. “Then, uh, what are you talking about?” 

“Us, Scratch!” Molly waves her hands back and forth between them. “The curse. I know it’s gone, and I know you know it’s gone, and…” she pauses to wipe the tears from her eyes with her wrist. “...you don’t have to keep pretending it isn’t, just to spare my feelings”

There’s something almost…pained in Scratch’s expression. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean…what you said earlier was so sweet of you, but, really, if…” Molly drops her gaze from Scratch so she doesn’t have to see the look on his face. “If…you want to leave, now that you’re not obligated to stay with me anymore, you can. I’d understand.” She turns her gaze to the dollhouse in the corner of the room. “You can even take that with you, if you want. It’s more yours now than it ever was mine.” Her grip on her blanket is getting so tight that her knuckles are turning white. “It’s…it’s nice having you around, but I’d hate for you to give up everything you have somewhere else just so I won’t be sad.” She closes her eyes, though it’s mostly to stop more tears from building. “If you have...somewhere better to be, I don’t want to be the one holding you back.” 

There’s a long, heavy pause where Scratch doesn’t say a word. Molly does her best to avoid looking him in the eyes, she really does, but her curiosity eventually gets the best of her and she finally allows herself to make eye contact with him.

Scratch looks appalled. 

No, even more than that.

Scratch looks like someone just ripped his undead heart right out of his chest and stomped all over it. 

He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, and repeats the gesture a number of times before he sighs and sits down on Molly's bed beside her. “Molly, that’s not…” he starts, his voice cracking with emotion. “I…” he begins again, nervously twiddling with his thumbs. “I…haven’t exactly been honest with you.”

“You haven’t?” Molly tilts her head, taken aback by such a blunt response. “About what?” 

“N-not about the curse, if that’s what you’re thinking!” he’s quick to clarify, waving his arms around in the air defensively. “I mean, about…myself.”

“Oh?” Molly sits up even straighter, because she’s not sure what she was expecting but it sure wasn’t that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” he begins, and he’s back to nervously twiddling with his thumbs again. “A-and you can’t blame me for not telling you any of this earlier, because, uh, this is really personal stuff, and I’ve never told anybody about this, and-”

“Scratch.” Molly gently places a hand on his shoulder, doing her best to offer him a gentle smile amidst her concern for him. “It’s okay. I won’t judge.” 

He sighs again, but his whole body language relaxes like he believes her. “I know.” He replies, and takes a deep breath as if he’s bracing for impact.

“The truth is…I lied to you about my reputation in the Ghost World. I know better than anyone that I’m one to flaunt myself around as the guy everyone knows and the guy who has special connections, and that I exaggerate, and I go around acting like I’m the most important person in the room. I go around acting like the reason I’m too grumpy to give anyone the time of day is because I think I’m better than them, but…” he pauses to turn his glance away from her. “The truth of it is that they hate me over there, Molly. They call me the worst of the worst to my face. And it’s not like I don’t try, because I try, and I try, and I try, and no matter how much I try it’s as if they’re all just waiting with bated breath for the moment when they finally get to banish me for good.”

“Even the Council!” he throws his hands into the air dramatically. “The Council, my bosses, they’re just waiting for the moment that I screw up so they can banish me, because they all think I’m just one big mistake. They don’t want me in the Ghost World. No matter where I turn, all I see are faces that think I’ll be better off when I’m gone.”

Much to Molly’s surprise, there are tears building in his eyes. She’s about to say something, she’s about to jump in and console him and say that he doesn’t deserve it, and he’s not worthless, no matter what they say, but he continues on before she can so much as open her mouth.

“But…you, Molly…” his expression shifts into a wobbly smile, but the tears do not stop building in his eyes. “You’ve shown me something so much more than anything I’ve ever felt since I died. Your whole family, as a matter of fact. You’ve shown me compassion, and you’ve shown me understanding, and you’ve shown me love, even when I didn’t deserve it. I still have trouble believing I deserve it, and yet you still show me nothing but love.”

“I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been a ghost, so the only thing I can say with certainty is that it has to have already been years. It could even be a couple of decades. Time is all weird for ghosts, so I don’t really remember all that much, but that’s not important.” he shakes his head. “What’s important is that you’ve only been in my afterlife for a fraction of it. Less than a year, even, and…you’ve shown me love, and you’ve shown me compassion, and you…” he clears his throat, “you’ve welcomed me into your family, all in an amount of time that would feel like the blink of an eye for any other ghost.” he finally finds the courage to look at her again, but he’s clearly overwhelmed by his own words, because he’s looking everywhere but at her face. “You’ve…you’ve changed my outlook on afterlife, Molly, and if I were feeling bold I’d even go as far as to claim that…” his voice trails out, and Molly almost has to strain to hear the last part, “you make me feel like I’m alive again”

Okay, now Molly’s sobbing for an entirely different reason than she had been earlier. She pulls Scratch into a tight hug, and he doesn’t hesitate for even a moment before he returns the hug just as tightly. 

“Point is,” he continues, as if Molly isn’t already enough of an emotional wreck as is. “I have nowhere better to be because this is the best place for me to be. Right here in Brighton with you. I’ll say it again if I need to; I’m not going anywhere” 

Molly opens her mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a choked sob. She pulls out of the hug to wipe at her eyes with her wrists, but she can’t help but immediately go in to throw her arms around him in another hug, because she never ever wants to take hugging him for granted ever again. “Thank you, Scratch” she whispers, squeezing him tightly. “You don’t know how much it means to hear you say that” 

Scratch returns her hug with all the force he can manage, and he mumbles something incomprehensible as he buries his head into her shoulder.

“What was that?”

“Scratch McGee” he repeats, just loud enough for her to hear without breaking out of a whisper. “You, uh. You didn’t get my name quite right there. You said Scratch, but it’s actually Scratch McGee.”

A sound that’s halfway between a laugh and another sob escapes Molly’s throat.

“Of course,” she mumbles, pulling him even closer into her arms. “Scratch McGee. Thank you for correcting me.”

#my writing #the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #molly mcgee #scratch the ghost #scratch mcgee #molly and scratch

[windowlessatmosphere]

Who Do You Love?, Ch.4

Read on AO3

Summary: Kim and Chay decide not to go public with their relationship since it's so new and they don't want anyone's reactions coming between them. Then Kim accidentally lets it slip on Instagram Live that he's no longer single, and the hunt begins to figure out who the mystery boyfriend is. Unfortunately, some of Chay's friends are hot on the trail, while he attempts to stay out of it entirely.

Kim was sitting utterly still, staring at the front door to his apartment. Chay had texted him 13 minutes ago that he was leaving the restaurant, which was approximately 12 minutes away. Kim started cycling through all of the least panic-inducing reasons Chay might not be home. Traffic. Maybe he forgot something inside. Porsche might have done a double goodbye, that happened all the time. Kidnapped. He took a deep breath, nudging his brain back to more mundane explanations.

The door handle jiggled, breaking him out of his reverie. He held his breath for a moment, letting it out slowly when Chay stepped through the door, appearing unharmed. He gave a tentative smile, not exactly sure how Chay was feeling towards him.

“Hi, angel,” he tested the waters. “How was dinner?”

“It was good!” Chay chirped, a smile lighting up his face. Good. That meant Kim hadn’t messed up  too  bad. “The rest of my day was good, too,” he continued. “Except for one thing…” he trailed off, tapping a finger against his chin.

“I’m sorry,” Kim crumbled immediately.

“Didn’t we just talk about this?” Chay complained, heading over to the couch and flopping down next to Kim.

“I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you mad?” he asked hesitantly.

“Did you do it on purpose?” Chay asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not!”

“Then why would I be mad?” Chay’s tone was gentler now, scooting closer to Kim and pressing their knees together. Kim blinked.

“…because I did the opposite of what you asked me to?” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Chay was practically the sweetest person on the planet, but Kim didn’t understand how he ended up letting so many things slide. The fact that he’d even gotten back together with Kim after everything that had happened…well, Kim knew he had very little room for error after that.

“Would you be mad at me?” Chay questioned.

“Never,” Kim responded immediately.

“If the tables were turned, would you?”

“Of course not,” Kim explained. “At someone else, sure. But not at you.”

“Why?” Chay asked simply.

“Because I love you,” Kim stated plainly.

“I love you, too,” Chay told him. “So why would it be any different?” Kim tried to hold back a smile at that, clearly failing if Chay’s expression was anything to go by. Chay laughed, leaning forward and kissing him soundly.

“It’s really okay?” Kim probed, after a few moments of silence.

“Mhmm,” Chay murmured, snuggling into Kim’s side.

“Good, cause…you’ll have to do prep with Mae. Apparently.”

“I get to meet P’Mae?” Chay perked up at that, looking so much like an excited puppy that Kim had to turn his face away for a moment to get it together.

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

“P’Kim!” Chay complained, smacking him gently on the arm. Kim just grabbed his hand and pulled him in closer, relishing in the proximity. Chay grabbed the remote, putting on the drama they’d been watching together as of late.

When the episode finished, Kim made to stand up, assuming they were both getting ready for bed. Chay grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to the couch.

“You don’t want to go to bed?” Kim asked, surprised.

“In a minute,” Chay wriggled a little closer to him. “I’m probably gonna watch the Live tomorrow,” he informed Kim. “Any other surprises I should know about?”

“I didn’t say your name or anything,” Kim reassured him. “I just let it slip that I had a boyfriend when you texted me.”

“So you didn’t say anything else about me?” Chay tilted his face up at Kim, eyes wide.

Kim thought for a second, ready to reply in the negative before he remembered the other throwaway comment he’d made.

“Umm…” he hedged, unsure of how Chay would react. Chay didn’t say anything, just continued to look up at him with those beautiful eyes. Whatever. Chay was going to hear it tomorrow anyway. Probably better to rip the band-aid off now. “I might have said you were hot?” It came out as a question, without him meaning for it to. “Are you mad?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

“Nope,” Chay replied, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly.

“Why not?” Kim’s tone was slightly incredulous.

“I am hot,” Chay agreed in an amicable tone, causing Kim to choke slightly on air. Chay giggled at him, clearly enjoying his suffering.

“That’s for me to know, and everyone else to speculate on,” Kim countered, shaking his head.

“Except you already told them,” Chay didn’t miss a beat before replying.

“I’m sorry!”

“That’s nice for you.”

“Chay!”

#kinnporche the series #kim khimhant theerapanyakul #porchay pichaya kittisawat #kimchay #kinnporsche fanfiction #kimchay fic

[besidesitstoowarm]

"The Last of the Time Lords" thoughts

i knowwwww they had crazy gay sex offscreen

and so we say a temporary farewell to martha jones. i'll expound in a series retrospective probably tomorrow but may i say, "mamma mia!" take that however you like

so this is the best series finale of all time bc the hobbit doctor is here. i forgot how NARSTY he looks. respect. i have to respect the audacity of the graphics dept to put that beast on screen

anyway we kick off at one year later. "martha jones, they say she's gonna save the world" YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT SHE WILL!!!!

martha's family are all servants in uniform to harold saxon. i get why, but again this is an example of race-blindness coming off very. woof. cause a black family in service to a white man who calls himself "the master" is QUITE sus.

the doctor references "the sea devils and the axons" he actually references the axons again later this episode. i love how big a nerd davies is. now bring back the zarbi you coward. we get confirmation that the doctor is 900 years old, which i think we must have heard at some point already but i don't recall

hobbit doctor appears and my bf said "it's the megamind 'no bitches' meme" which it is. it literally looks so bad i want to throw up (compliment) i honestly think doctor who is at its best when it has a $5 budget and i am not kidding. get creative with ms paint and bubble wrap

the master starts talking about the drumming "that's when it chose me, the drumming, the call to war" i honestly don't really know what he meant by this. i'm willing to accept the doctor's previous explanation that looking into the time vortex drove him mad, but i'm not sure what "call to war" could mean

we get the plot thread from "utopia" that i had previously forgotten! all those souls trying to reach the promised land became nasty fucked up heads in spheres. "dying" says lucy saxon. "everything dying. no point. no point to anything" she's such an underexplored character to me. what is lucy's deal? she knows who he is. what does she want? who is she, really? she shoots him, she loves him. "just the dark and the cold"

martha saves the world by planting a macguffin and lying hardcore. "no weapons, just words" she is everything. the master gets shot by his wife and the doctor says "i forgive you" oh yeah? okay. "we shall stand upon this earth together as it burns" you guys are so fucked up. "dying in your arms. happy now?" i can't take this. the master refuses to regenerate and afaik this is the first indication we get that regeneration is a choice; maybe bc the doctor loves life too much, we never got another perspective, but this is interesting. they can choose not to regenerate. closest we get to this perspective i think is my beloathed "twice upon a time" where the doctor wants to die and is ready to get OUT of here

so the master dies and they burn him to ashes. martha, the doctor, and jack all vibe back on earth in normal timeline and jack tells a story from his childhood and says "face of boe, they called me" and honestly i don't understand how this can possibly make sense so i shan't think of it any longer. martha breaks up with the doctor by telling a story about her friend who lost herself being obsessed with a boy who didn't notice her at all and again i say. they did martha so dirty. and the doctor crashes into the titanic. whatever

series retrospective up soon! series 3 whips ass thanks!!

#doctor who #besides its too rewatch #dw s3 #The Last of the Time Lords