#my father just sent me a picture of my family and i taken something like 15 years ago. this is beyond guilt tripping.

[stayyyyyyyyyyyy21]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN)

"the truth"

part one part two, part three

Hyunjin's POV: she was dying inside that no one texted her after he uploaded a picture of him and Yeji, but when the notification popped up that Y/N wrote she is happy and called both Yeji and Hyunjin her best friend, he got anxious and didn't know what to do. When Hyunjin saw Y/N again, getting on first day of college, it sort of did something to his heart. He realized he missed her, and it was the first time he didn't talk to her for this long; he felt desperate. He wanted her and the group back, but Y/N was not alone; she was with a guy. And when he realized she was sitting with them, he was taken aback. Hyunjin was born into a family where traditions and reputation were above anything. Hyunjin was taught that since he was born in a rich family, his friends should always match his wealth or should be richer than him. Watching Y/N hang out with a bunch of nobodies irritated him. Later, when he saw Y/N in the pink gown at his father's art gallery event, he couldn't take his eyes off her and thought, "What is happening to me?" Hyunjin felt that this was the first time Y/N didn't come behind him or gave a damn about him, so Hyunjin started to feel attracted towards her. He was pissed when he realized Y/N skipped his party for those nobodies, and all the friend group did that too. He wanted to talk to everyone and make Yeji a part of the group again. Seeing those nobodies and the gang together made Hyunjin mad. And he texted in the group.

Hyunjin arrived at Y/N's place 15 minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower, emitting a subtle fragrance of roses that made Y/N momentarily forget her annoyance. She greeted him with a casual offer of water, but he cut straight to the chase.

"Why the cold shoulder?" Hyunjin's voice was laced with frustration, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/N's irritation flared up as she replied, "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

Hyunjin's expression softened as he guessed, "Because of Yeji?"

"I don't have romantic feelings for you anymore, Hyunjin," Y/N declared, her voice firm. "You distanced yourself from the whole group and started going out with random girls. Then you didn't even come to Changbin's campaign. I thought you were in Korea for the dance academy, but when I saw your Instagram, I understood why you didn't come to the campaign. Whatever happened in school, I thought that was over. You were fine with it, but you changed after Yeji came back from America. Do you think what happened back then was my fault?"

Hyunjin's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, his gaze fixed on Y/N, searching for understanding. "I didn't date anyone," he began, his tone earnest. "When Yeji left, she tried to contact me, but I told her I didn't want to. After a year, she sent me a letter explaining her part. Even though she was wrong here, she apologized, and I spent the entire year just talking to her."

A pang of guilt flashed across Hyunjin's face, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "I just told you that I am dating other girls, but I was actually just talking to Yeji," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "When she came back, I realized that I like Yeji, and I distanced myself from you guys because I was guilty." Each word hung heavy in the air, laden with remorse and the weight of unspoken emotions.

Hyunjin's heart sank as he watched Y/N's numb expression, a veil of pain masking her features. He pleaded desperately, "Hey, talk to me, please. I'm sorry, Y/N. I know she did you dirty, but please, Y/N, at least talk to her once."

Y/N maintained her composure, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "Hyunjin, it's fine," she replied softly. "I don't think I feel like discussing this issue anymore. I need some space from you and Yeji."

Hyunjin's plea hung in the air, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing chasm between them. "Y/N, take as much time as you want, but please, do the project with me and Yeji," he implored.

Y/N's anger simmered beneath the surface, her frustration palpable. "Shut up, Hyunjin," she snapped, her tone cutting. "Are you being for real now?"

Hyunjin recoiled, his words faltering as he struggled to find the right response. "Sorry, I just... um, nevermind," he muttered, his gaze falling. hyunjin said: i miss you.

But Y/N remained resolute, her need for space unwavering. "I miss you too, Hyunjin, but I need space from all this drama. I'm done with it," she declared firmly. "I really need friends outside of our group, so please, let me have my space."

The weight of Y/N's words settled over them, a somber reminder of the rift that had formed between them. Hyunjin nodded solemnly, his heart heavy with regret. "As you wish, Y/N. I just want our old group again," he murmured.

Y/N's expression softened, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "Don't worry, I won't ruin our group because of Yeji," she assured him. "See you later, Hyunjin. Bye."

Wooyoung emerged from his hiding spot behind the door, a concerned expression etched across his features. "Hey, do you want to discuss?" he asked gently as Y/N returned to the living room.

Y/N shook her head, her resolve unwavering. "Nope, I just don't wanna talk about this topic. Can you tell this to Changbin and Felix too?" she requested, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

A small smile played on Wooyoung's lips as he nodded in understanding. "Okay, love," he said softly, pressing a kiss to Y/N's cheek.

taglist: @lee-knows-cats @midsoulz

#hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fake texts #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin #hyunjin angst #hyunjin au #stray kids au #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin social media au #skz x reader #skz social media au #hyunjin smau #skz smau #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin series #hyunjin romance #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader smut #stray kids fake texts #skz fake texts #bang chan fake texts #skz fluff

[theforgottendaydreamer]

will i ever manage to get through a whole phonecall with my family without them criticising me for whatever i do or

#“open your heart” i'm not even opening my mouth anymore man #delete later #yeah no wait #my first thought after posting was “i need a drink” #that's not ok #i jokingly told them about my most recent drunk because i thought they were going to laugh about it a bit and instead they became hostile #but anyway that's not why i'm upset right now. surprisingly that was probably the least painful part of the call #i think i'm getting teary eyed so maybe i will be able to finally cry and unwind a bit #i've been waiting for a good cry for months at this point #my father just sent me a picture of my family and i taken something like 15 years ago. this is beyond guilt tripping. #and it may be working so someone stop me from replying to him and then getting drunk on whatever i can get my hands on

[dior-roses]

obsession, auston matthews

ꨄ︎ pairing: stepbro!auston matthews x reader

ꨄ︎ summary: he's a man obsessed, his mind replays any and every interaction he's had the honor to have with you. because let's face it, in his mind, you are more than just his step-sister, you are a goddess in his eyes. and who is he to not steal something for his earnings?

ꨄ︎ requested: yes/no

ꨄ︎ warnings: obsessive behavior, kind of dark(?), mentions of smut (like barely any, in my eyes), stepcest (do not condone, in fact, am highly against it), auston's lowkey got a god complex, a hint of reader being innocent, implied age gap (reader is 18!)

ꨄ︎ author's note: it's been so long since i've written anything and im so insecure in this so please love it! (give me validation). a self indulgent auston blurb (?) that came to mind when i saw this slutty little edit of him. please forgive me for any grammar mistakes to typos, for i wrote this while i was saying hello to my friend mary jane. much love to every one of you who decides to read this mess of a story, and shall we meet again!🤍

he should've felt disgusted with himself. his skin should be crawling with his current demeanor. the hairs in the back of his neck should be standing up straight when the idea briefed over his mind during the excruciating quiet family dinner that your parents force you guys to have nightly.

but he wasn't.

in fact, he was quite proud of himself, with how far he's gotten into this 'plan' of his. here he was, in the midst of the day while you were at school, attending your one out of only three classes you had to attend your senior year, standing in the middle of your bedroom.

he had taken the afternoon off, canceling his strength training, his excuse being that he was sick. along with his place of employment he texted you, the one thing that had been occupying his mind ever since he laid eyes on you. your parents having you guys meet, thus starting his obsession.

to their shock, neither of you were angry when your father announced that they had eloped. both of you sat across from the newly weds in a low light restaurant, with pristine christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling. a little annoyed, maybe; at least you were. you never got the chance to ask him how he felt about the whole ordeal. but from what you could see, he was perfectly contempt with the major life change.

he shifts in your room, walking backwards until the back of his calfs hit the edge of you bed, causing him to plop down harshly with an anticipated huff. your pure vanilla sent traveled to his nostrils, and himself becoming encapsulated with only you. his hands laid stoic along the tops of his thighs, even though he wanted nothing more than to palm himself through his pants. he was already half hard, just by your scent.

his eyes lingered to your nightstand, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips at just how perfectly girly it was. a picture of you laughing with your friends in your camp counselor shirt from the past summer, your forgotten airpods, which he thought about how irritated you were when you figured that out, a small pout on your lips. god, he wanted nothing more than to feel yours against his.

he would be happy if it was just on his cheek, as a thankful gesture.

as he admired your dimples through the glass of the picture frame, he could help but let curiosity get the best of him. that's how he got here in the first place, right? his eyes trailed down to the drawer that was painted a darker color than the rest of the dresser, to perfectly match the rest of your room.

he hoped one day he could see if your room truly matched you– light perfectly balanced with dark. he already knew the light part was too good to be true, with your big eyes that light up at the sight of him, but only enough that he would notice. the way you blush if he gets too close to you, not that he creeps you out or anything, but the fact that it was a man besides your dad that was this close to you. even if it was your step brother.

you didn't know why you felt this way around auston, you didn't know what made him different from any other boy you thought was pretty. bust auston was so, so, pretty that you couldn't help but redirect your eyes to your shoes when he caught your burning gaze. your skin burned from what seemed like hour from when he would place his hands on your waist to 'move you out of the way'. and it had only grown with time, with how nice he is to you and the names he calls you that he doesn't seem to do with anyone else. 'princess', 'baby', or even 'doll' when he's showing you how to swing a golf club, on those rare, rare, days when he could finally persuade you to come with him to the country club just down the street. he even bought you your own little golf girl outfit, all baby pink and white, to perfectly match the picture of you he has implemented into his mind.

and you had thought you were going to look ridiculous, and you did, until you saw the way he looked at you as you walked down stairs where he was waiting for you. a certain glint was in his eyes the entire day, and you couldn't help but squirm in the passengers seat as he was driving. trying to descreetly press your thighs together to at least try to ease the pressure and throbbing that was happening down there. you didn't know what caused the throbbing but it was so strange and unfamiliar that you couldn't help but sniffle lightly, suppressing a whine at how uncomfortable you felt. but you didn't completely hate it. especially not when auston was right next to you, his large frame blocking the street lights that passed by through his window, his side profile creating the perfect tattoo of a shadow on your face, one that you didn't want to go away.

of course he had noticed his little girl writhing around in the passenger seat of his car. her soft thighs pressing against each other, all supple and smooth from imperfections. he needed to be suffocated by them, the image he wanted to die from was your shaking body from all the pleasure he was causing you, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as he sucked you clit in between his full lips.

he had completely forgotten he was in heaven, (your room), when he felt the pulse from his balls that he was about the cum, all from the thoughts of your innocence and his hand that found his hard on cock through his sweatpants. he didn't want to do that yet, not without the one thing that caused him to be here in the first place.

the most obvious place would be the dresser, so he head towards that area of your room, placed right next to your closet. and surprise, surprise! the top drawer just happened to be your underwear drawer. all filed with pale colored bras and panties, not that they were old, but because those were the colors you loved; all muted and quiet, instead of vibrant and loud. you was shocked you had some lace and he would've gone for those, but that's not what he was going for.

his mind craved something less out there and more reserved. something that he had seen tossed in the washer with his colored laundry load, a pair of your painted that were red with white little hearts scattered across the cotton material. a throaty groan came from his as he felt his cock twitch, being retrained by the boxers and pants he wore.

he could only imagine your ass being perfect covered in white little hearts, or even getting a glimpse of them as you sit down next to him on the couch in the living room after a long day at school. your school uniform only urging on his obsession– a short little navy blue pleaded skirt with thigh high socks, and the cutest little best he had ever seen. the way the thick knitted wool spread across the curves of your breasts.

god, he was nothing but a man obsessed.

#auston matthews #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey #dark aesthetic #stepbro!auston #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fic #fanfic #romance #hockey boys #jack hughes #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #ethan edwards #luke hughes #mark estapa

[a-god-in-crime-alley]

DPxDC prompt #1

(Or baby’s first fic prompt that’s more of a ficlette. It’s going under the cut because it ended up longer than a prompt. Sorry.)

Jazz is reincarnated in the DC Universe. Her new family is no longer in the picture and she doesn’t remember her past life at all. She ends up taken in by the League of Assassins. She is named Yasmina.

She grows up there, learning to be a skilled fighter and trains to be Talias bodyguard. Sometimes she helps protect baby Damian, even though she is only a teenager.

She grows up to be a tall girl with a strong build. Not willowy like Talia. She still has red hair but it’s darker now and naturally violet eyes because of a latent meta gene.

Talia eventually switches her to helping Jason during his training, acting as a go between. She occasionally has Yasmina spar with Jason to gauge how his training is going. The two teens get close, Talia sees this as a chance to manipulate Jason. She encourages Yasmina to pursue her interest in Jason, and encourage Jason to do the same.

(Talia is also kind of hoping Jason decides not to leave because she’s started to think of him as her own. Son, apprentice, just something intrinsically hers. She doesn’t want to give him back to her Beloved. She’s also seeing a bit of herself and Bruce in Yasmina and Jason. It’s nostalgic, but painful. She kind of wants them to have a better end than her.)

Yasmina and Jason end up spending a lot of time together. Feelings get stronger. They find a kind of happiness in each other for a time. It might be love blooming.

Then Jason’s training comes to an end. He still chooses to return to Gotham. Yasmina’s heart is broken, but when she looks in his eyes she knows Gotham is his first love. He’s just as Talia described The Bat to her, on one of her vaguely vulnerable days. Too determined. Too focused. The mission will always come first, even as he says he’s nothing like his father.

They fall into bed for the first time, desperate with the knowledge that they might never see each other again; And if they do, it might be as enemies. She sends him off with memories of her, and he ends up leaving something behind unintentionally.

That’s right, Yasmina is pregnant. But she doesn’t know that for a while. She hardly has any symptoms and miraculously, no miscarriage during all her training and any fights she gets into in that time.

Until her luck runs out.

She takes a killing blow for Talia, and earns her first dip in the Lazarus Pit. She goes in complete loyal to the League, she comes out with her memories as Jazz Fenton, and the soul of Danny inhabiting her unborn child.

She gets a medical check up after her Lazarus Spa day and look at that! Pregnant! Talia is kind of having flash backs. At least when She got pregnant and sent Bruce away, she Knew she was sending away the father of her child.

Talia helps Yasmina through her pregnancy and with the care of the baby; all with the understanding that this child will become Damian’s right hand. A couple years pass. Damian has gone to live in Gotham, and now 5 year old Danny (who kind of remembers his past life) is showing sighs of having suspiciously Lazarus water adjacent powers. Ra’s is getting nosy, uh oh. So Talia sends Yasmina away to Gotham.

Armed with the knowledge of her past and the skills of her present, Yasmina is determined to introduce her son to his father. Weather or not Jason will help convince The Bat to let them stay is another matter.

She also has to deal with her dip in the Lazarus pit activating her meta gene. Now she has her own Liminal powers to deal with on top of Danny’s ghost powers resurfacing.

(I know that was long. I know it’s practically a fic. I have no intention of writing more myself. If you want to, go ahead. But Tag me please I want to read a fic like this. This premise has been swimming in my brain like soup for days.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #anger management ship #Jazz is reborn in the Leage of Assasins #Assassin Jazz #Danny is her son this time #and Jason is the father #lol. he got damian’d #free to good home #just tag me and give credit if you pick it up #jason todd #jasmine

[bucknastysbabe]

This is pure crack taken seriously. Fuckin in publix places. Dedicated to @valeskafics thanks now you owe me money.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Public sex, the Targtower horrendous family vacation, Daeron is in the picture (he isn’t), Bodyguard Criston, age gap, almost daddy kink, spitting in mouth, sink sex?, pnv!sex, v!fingering, oral fixations, Degredation, dirty talk, Criston is Old, Aegon is the FBI’s sex crimes hound he has a 20 mile radius

Taglist: @bambitas @moncherrii @aemonds-holy-milk @fairysluna @lovelykhaleesiii @arcielee @sugarpoppss2 @targaryenbarbie @gemini-mama

I do not work at this establishment Nope not at all

It was obscenely hot. Your family was on the annual trip to Clearwater for a summer vacation to the beach. Also known as the Targtower explosion failure tour. You and Daeron had coined it that two years ago when Aegon had drunkenly exploded the back yard trying to set off fireworks.

Your mother wheeled your decrepit father around, a floppy sun hat on his spotted head. Viserys was…rotting…sort of? Cancer sucks. It wasn’t really like he was there anyways, all of you were sent to boarding schools. Ole’ Vizzy invited his eldest daughter, her children, and Uncle Daemon to the grand beach mansion this year. Probably because he’d be dead next year.

Whatever it may be. It will be chaotic. Aemond was already scribbling furiously in his totally not a diary journal. Your family had stopped to get subs and some refreshments at one of the many Publix shopping centers dotting Florida. It was a busy Friday, so the whole clan was rotting along with Viserys in line.

Aegon slipped off to, “Stock up on booze.”

No surprise there. You eyed the family bodyguard Criston to gauge his reaction. He looked bored, gaze following Aegon. You ogled Criston’s summer wear. He looked pretty fucking good with some bitty shorts and a summery button-up polo. You’d been fucking the man since, well, every holiday or vacation since last Thanksgiving.

Which you thought would be hard. Not really as most of your family didn’t give a fuck about anything but themselves or were on something. Otto had been the closest to catching the pair of you. Taking a step behind Helaena you whispered, “Come up with something.”

Criston’s dark brows furrowed as he mouthed back ‘what?’ You rolled your eyes and murmured, “Find a reason for us to fuck off from this line, mom knows the orders!” Criston’s confusion settled into a calm facade. He spoke up, “Ali, the squirt and I are going to get some ice and other stuff, just text?”

“Sure, go ahead, this line isn’t moving anytime soon,” she sighed, waving them off.

Free from the hellish deli line you echoed “Squirt?”

Criston rubbed the back of his neck, laughing, “I mean I am 20 years your elder, and I make you squirt?” He stopped and peered at the signs, gasping when you dragged him toward the bathrooms. The bodyguard questioned frantically as you moved.

“W-what are we doing? Oh my, no, I know what you’re thinking, no!”

His big hands paused you by the shoulders. Criston sternly stated, “I’m supposed to be watching over everyone, not boinking in a public restroom! At a Christian establishment!” You frowned, throwing the man puppy eyes, pressing yourself into his trim frame. The grocery workers were probably disgusted but not surprised.

Leaning up to whisper you whined, “Come onnnnn, live a little, they’re just in line, a quickie? C’mon Criston, m’so fuckin’ wet for you baby.”

His jaw clenched down on a ragged growl. You stroked a hand down his chest, “Enjoy it while we can, soon I’m going to be frolicking around in my bikini while you gotta watch my dad.”

That seemed to win over the man, sighing and dipping into the women’s bathroom with you, taking up the biggest stall. Criston shoved you against the black stall, growling, “You’re such a damn brat, what got you all wet in the car, hm baby?”

“Mmm, I was watching you drive, your hands, wanted them ‘round my throat, fingers on my tongue baby.”

Criston’s dark eyes rolled a bit, the big hands in question slapping down on your ass as he hissed, “Drive me insane, goddamn.” He closed in toward your face and kissed, moaning soft and low. You shoved down his shorts, gently pulling at flushed cock. The bodyguard gasped and bit your lip, snarling, “Needy aren’t we?”

You nodded, opening your full lips. Criston spat into your mouth muttering, “Filthy girl.” You mewled when he picked you up and propped your ass on the sink. He told you to shut up while thick fingers slid up your skirt, ripping the thin material of your panties off. You bit down on your knuckles, whining like a damn puppy.

“Cock slut.”

You loved when he called you that. You also loved when he took your destroyed panties for his own keeping. Criston was a bigger whore than you. Folded so easily when you made the first move.

Criston murmured, nipping at your ear, “Goddamn you didn’t lie, little dirty slut, gonna have to fuck you now, god, don’t know how anyone just doesn’t look at you and know.”

“K-kn-know what?”

“What a deviant, cock-hungry slut you are baby,” he laughed quietly, pressing a couple kisses to your lips and jaw. You gripped weakly at his hair, panting in sharp little mewls. His dark eyes greedily roved over your tits falling out of the low-cut top, writhing on his thick fingers, begging for his cock.

Criston hissed, shoving his fingers down your throat to quiet your desperate begging. Tears fell down your eyes as you realized he removed

them between your legs to shove down your mouth. You shivered— more tears leaking down your red cheeks as you helplessly tasted your own essence.

The bodyguard grinned sharply, cooing into your ear, “Figured that would keep you quiet. Fucking whore.” His dark hair fell forward as he gazed at your cunt, adding, “Lookit’cha, already trying to suck me in, hah.”

He aligned his weeping cock with your horribly empty pussy, bullying his way in, free hand coming to rest at the small of your arching back. You shook at the sudden, deep intrusion, suckling Criston’s thick fingers with a mewl. The bodyguard was making forceful little thrusts

into your cunt, trying to keep the noise level at a minimum.

He mouthed at your shoulder, neck, panting dirty nonsense. You grew tighter around him, the lurid nature of this situation making you throb harder. Criston chuckled in your ear, strained from his very methodical fucking.

Usually the man wanted to be soft and sappy, fuck for hours. Or go to pound town. He was currently stuck in an awkward predicament and couldn’t do either.

“You’ll be bringing your pretty ass to my room every night after dragging me into this shit.”

You nodded eagerly, squirming on his length. Criston groaned at your unexpected response, his girl already fuck dumb on his ass, she’d have some sexy bratty remark right now. He refocused on jerking his hips up, hitting that soft spot at the roof of her pussy.

Criston shoved his left thumb in her mouth to get it wet before snaking it down to her engorged clit, throbbing and twitching in time with his direct little thrusts. He groaned raggedly at her involuntary shiver, milking his prick further along.

A pair of voices giggled from outside the stall, “Oh my god, they’re fucking? Don’t forget a condom!”

Criston’s eyes widened. He needed to wrap this up before anyone got suspicious. He pulled out a bit to slam back in, swirling his thumb, even popping a puffy nipple into his mouth. The brunette even began to massage her warm tongue.

“Mm, Mm! Cri- mmmmm!”

He grinned up from her tits, rumbling, “Come for me pretty girl, come on, do it now, we have a time limit!”

He didn’t mean to mention the time limit. Whoops.

You nodded, eyes rolling back as you were deposited into bliss. Criston hungrily replaced his wet fingers with his mouth, kissing away and swallowing desperate noises. Shuddering against his bigger frame he coddled and pet you, cock pumping along until he tensed and blew his load partially in you, partially in a papertowel, groaning your name.

His sappy puppy eyes were out now, the elder man breathing softly against your face. He hummed, “Alright, let’s get dressed yeah?” You nodded and tucked your tits away, putting wild hair into a ponytail, and straightening your skirt. The panties would have to be missing, hopefully no cum would leak out.

Criston looked a bigger mess, his curls all over the place, shirt askew, shorts on the ground. He breathed out huffily, “Please help me.” You smirked at him, getting Criston presentable for the great outdoors, of Publix. Regardless, both of you looked like you’d been fucking in a bathroom. Whatever.

The deli line had only moved 3 more spots, finally putting your mom and Vizzy, now asleep, in the front row. You held some sunscreen while Criston had the box of ice. Aemond raised a brow and scoffed. Aegon, significantly drunker than you’d last seen him sniffed loudly.

“It smells like someone was fucking? Who was fucking?”

You watched in horror as Aegon sniffed out Criston like a hound. He snatched up Criston’s fingers and stared before guffawing, the body guard shoving your eldest brother away. Aegon was on hand and knee now, laughing, “Sorry, I- HAHAAHAHAHAHAH- okay, m’god I prom-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH”

You kicked his shin, Aegon yelping and tripping. Eventually Otto stepped in and handed out orders of food. Why was he wearing a pimp outfit? Oh my god?

You grabbed some peach Tea while Criston snatched an energy drink. You hummed, “I mean how many times can you say that you’ve been fucking in Publix?”

“Yeah, that’s ten swats.”

#crack fic #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole x reader #targtowers

[philtstone]

if you’re still taking prompts from that list, I’d love to see your take on the nemesis one for any of your modern AUs!

sorry it's not an EXISTING modern au but it is. a modern au. partially inspired by many many many things most significantly a post i literally cannot find again no matter how hard i look... also by anne from anne of green gables. anyway, this is mostly just vibes. and my own salad shirazi opinions. in that order.

In Arwen's house growing up family dinner was always a shared time of day, so it makes her glad that the small apartment her father moved into last year honours the same principle.

“It’s not that he irritates me,” eighteen year old Eowyn, fresh out of her first term of university and with her long gold hair in a tangled braid down her back, is explaining from the dinner table. “I hardly get irritated easily — it’s just that he’s so sweet and friendly all the time, I am sure he’s up to something.”

“Eowyn dear,” says her uncle. His attention is mostly absorbed by the newspaper in front of him. “If you might repeat that first part aloud, and reflect on it a bit.”

Eomer snorts from the sink. Gandalf had tasked him with washing the dishes — he had more or less nothing to contribute to meal making. Eowyn makes a face at him.

“I am good tempered. It’s just no one who’s normal is that nice. Certainly not a man.”

Gandalf, who’s in the midst of a very complex chess game with Arwen’s father, chuckles a bit. 

“Indeed?” Ada asks, with a wry smile. Eowyn blushes.

“Do not tease her, you men,” Arwen says, sweeping in to add hot water to the tea cups. The pale green flats of the fragrant tea leaves sent in express overseas mail by her maternal grandparents swirl in the kettle’s pour. Authentic green tea has a potency Arwen has not found in anything purchased around here. “You know she isn’t talking about you, and anyway, she’s right.” 

While Gandalf says, “Do tell us more, then,” charitably, Arwen returns to the small kitchen island. The rice is coming into its own in the cooker. Rice is always a comfort; it unites across cultures and races. Admittedly to this day Ada will prefer jasmine to basmati, no matter Arwen's own fascination with the latter. She sets about peeling two thick skinned cucumbers and dicing them, along with tomatoes from Mr Bilbo's garden, into a bowl. Then comes the shallot, and its lilac purple skin. Arwen has always loved the colour lilac. She has a nightgown a shade lighter than this onion, which her fiance sighs over dreamily every time it’s taken out.

Behind her Aragorn chops tarragon for the lentils, which are bubbling. He has embraced jasmine rice since childhood. His hair is tied out of his face and just barely escaping the doom of a man bun (Aragorn is too sincere about everything to accidentally look like the smarmiest versions of his countrymen) and he smells of fried onion and rose oil, like he often does when in this place. In matter of fact he smells like this kitchen is decorated: the multiple little knick knacks lining the sil, the old silver, the warm reds of the woven rug in the floor (one of an innumerable number kept in Iverworn’s house), and the cracked old laminate tiling – brown. There is some comfort in the idea that Gilraen's old apartment is still in the family. Only now, Ada has his little shrine in the den which doubles as his study, and a few more photographs have been added to the baby pictures lining the front hallway.

On the other end of the table Gimli and Legolas sort through Bilbo's rock collection while the old man gives running commentary on where he found each one. Arwen’s cousin is being educated on geology in the process. Frodo and Sam and the rest are still at school; Aragorn has volunteered to go pick them up in a half hour.

“This ought to go in the sedimentaries pile, Legolas. You see the distinctive layering – to really know we’d check for carbonate, but I’d say this is a solid limestone.”

“I don’t understand. Many of them have layers. That one with the crystal –”

“Running in parallel. Look, they’ve sedimented. It’s in the name, for Mahal’s sake. The geode, a sedimentary rock? Preposterous.”

“I found that one in Dale you know. It was, oh, twenty years ago or so now — I’d just had a pint with your dad, Gimli – you remember what he was like twenty years ago, wearing those garish red turbans (though they suited him well) – and when we came out on the street there it was by the lamp post, a little lump of a thing. I thought to myself, why, that looks just like Lobelia’s terrible laddoo – you haven’t tried them, but they’re glorified pebbles, with how dry and small she makes them – and then I turned it over and thought, where might a pretty piece of rock like this come from in the middle of such a town? But then, Dale is very metropolitan …“

Absently, Arwen begins humming to herself.

“Won’t someone put on some decent music?”

“Don’t look at us old men, Eomer. Haven’t the youth got a stereo system?”

“Oh, it's all Bluetooth now. Ah — I have your rook there, Elrond.”

“No he hasn’t; that’ll put his queen in jeopardy.”

“Keep your eyes on your lentils, Estel, my own function perfectly well. He’s been doing this since he was a boy.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” says Gandalf, with the wise knowing of someone who was there to witness such behaviour in person.

Between it all, everyone is somehow still managing to listen attentively to Eowyn as she expounds her theories and suspicions.

“He’s asked four times if we could study together after class. Four times. The next major exam we have is worth sixty perfect of the grade and I’m sure he saw me speaking with the professor last week because I was so determined to pass it. No one passes that exam, according to the third years –”

Arwen stirs the lentils and wonders if they ought to take a little bowl to the shrine.

“Perhaps he’s looking for a friend,” says Gandalf philosophically.

“Maybe he’s a creep, like Wormtongue was,” suggests Eomer darkly.

“He’s only starstruck by a girl in the engineering course,” says Bilbo, with a bit of (not unkind) humour in his voice. Then he reaches into his large duffel, which he lugged indoors with Aragorn and Eomer’s help, and extracts a box of fresh sweets for the table. These, Arwen hopes, are better than Lobelia’s – though she is sure they will be much too sweet for her own taste.  

“There are girls in engineering these days, old friend,” Gandalf interjects with a raised eyebrow, but Eowyn is not really paying attention to either of them.

“Last week at lab he gave me a book about zoological diseases I mentioned off hand almost a month ago,” she says with that earnest way she has. “That doesn’t have anything to do with engineering. Do you think he was trying to throw me off my game before our lab quiz?” 

It is very hard to keep a straight face at this inquiry, but Arwen – and many others present – manage it. “Have you considered that he might have just thought you’d like it?” asks Arwen.

“But that’s none of his business,” Eowyn says, as though this was obvious. 

“How did he know you liked it then?” asks her brother, baffled.

“We’ll — I told him,” says Eowyn. She flushes a bit. “But he initiated the conversation. We should have been talking about closed circuits.”

“Or nothing at all, apparently,” says Ada gravely.

“You don’t know him. He’s got a look in his eye. I can just tell.”

“Oh look, I’ve found him on Facebook.” 

And so Legolas has, and they all converge around his smartphone while Eowyn glares defiantly. 

“Faramir, is it? You know, he kind of looks like you, Estel.”

“Yeah – if you were much scrawnier and looked like a dweeby engineering student.”

“They look nothing alike,” says Eowyn hotly, crossing her arms – Arwen cannot help but catch Aragorn’s eye (he looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh, not helped at all by Gandalf, who is looking right at him, and skillfully masking his own merriment besides) “and Aragorn would never be such a — a — a snake, anyway.”

Arwen agrees with this hypothetical assessment, at least. She rummages through the fridge and retrieves the fresh clutch of herbs she needs for her salad.

“But what has he done, Eowyn. The poor boy. There is a bit of dweebishness there, isn’t there … indeed …”

“Look at the last name; isn’t that Denethor’s boy?”

“Oh yes, that would explain it. Engineering? Of all things? I always thought he had a poet's soul when he was a kid.”

“I wonder how they’re doing – haven’t spoken to the man in an age, you know.”

“Denethor you mean?”

“Well, not since the incident with that poor tree in the synagogue’s front yard,” says Gandalf sadly. “You were there Aragorn, you remember –”

“Hmmm,” says Aragorn grimly.

“Well I told you,” interrupts Eowyn. “I haven’t got proof, just suspicions! He’s trying to psych me out of this program. But I tell you – I won’t let him!” 

Arwen wonders if perhaps Eowyn had grown up around sisters, she wouldn’t insist so very hard on sticking it out through a degree she is not really interested in. These ruminations are interrupted by a soft touch at Arwen's waist. “Hm?” she says.

“I’m off to pick up the kids,” Aragorn begins in a low voice (the assembly continues to chatter behind them). She smiles at him, then stops: for reasons unexplained he is suddenly offering her a horrified expression he usually only reserves for conservative Tik Tok mommy vloggers and occasions where Pippin is about to grievously injure himself on the park playset.  “... What are you doing?” he asks.

“Adding the mint,” she says serenely. 

“Fresh?” Like she must be mad.

“Doesn’t it have mint?” 

It is his grandmother's recipe, after all; silly man.

“Dried.”

“Your mother always said it had to be fresh.”

“Fresh dried mint,” he clarifies, gravely.

“Really Estel.”

“Take over the lentils.”

“That was your job — and you’ve got to pick up Frodo and his friends.”

“In ten minutes.”

“You’re going to ruin it. Mr I Can Subsist On A Can Of Beans.”

“I can subsist. That doesn't mean you can add fresh spearmint to a perfectly good salad. It tastes completely wrong.”

“Estel …” But Aragorn has already ducked beneath the counter to reach deep into the recesses of their spice cabinet and retrieve an extremely dusty repurposed jar of dried mint, now cradled in his brown hands. The half-peeled label is for sour cherry preserves, which Arwen is sure no one in this family has bought from a store since they discovered the tree in Ada’s backyard.

“This is hardly fresh,” Arwen says archly.

“I dried it last week,” he says, all innocence. His t-shirt is worn and ratty enough that its low collar shows off her old necklace. She can see the jade flower and her own name etched in the characters of her mothers language at the center.

She sighs. Kisses his cheek; takes the mint. “Go fetch Mr. Bilbo’s wards.”

“They’re going to make a mess of my car,” he says, as if he did not happily volunteer for this task.

“Your car is already a mess, my love.”

So he goes, grinning. Arwen adds the mint to the salad and renters the fray.

“Eowyn,” she says. “Perhaps the next time he asks to study, you might take him up on it. That way you can get close enough to catch him at his awful scheme.”

Eowyn's mouth widens in a ponderous oh, as if she had never thought of this. Arwen pats her shoulder comfortingly.

“Food will be ready in ten minutes,” she says. Ada is smiling at her — a true smile, not without its own edges of memory, but no longer the bittersweet thing of three years ago. Arwen smiles back.

#i would post this on ao3 but its so niche and im not sure if i want my 200th post to be this plotless #we'll see #my writing #thank u emma you always got me #lord of the rings #arwen undomiel #aragorn #bilbo baggins #gandalf #eowyn #elrond #gimli #legolas #theoden #eomer #aragorn x arwen #eowyn x faramir #gimli x legolas #is this something

[armoredtitanmistress]

𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙦𝙪𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 | Toji Fushiguro| fate's entanglements

characters: toji fushiguro x gojo!reader, toji zenin x gojo!reader

summary: fate had a sense of humor that you didn't appreciate.

tags: toji x gojo!reader, gojo’s older sister, pre-star plasma vessel arc/star plasma vessel arc, satoru content!, suggestive language, explicit language, symbolism (?), strangers to friends, angst, fluff.

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The ceiling lights that hung above your head did a very lackluster job of replicating the scenic starlit nights you had grown accustomed to. The wooden paneled walls littered with religious scrolls reminded everyone in the room of their purpose for being here. The matching floorboards had probably been polished by a low-ranking clan member. The room was filled with the voices of countless men trying to talk over one another believing their words were more important than the others.

When you first started to attend these meetings, you would listen as attentively as you could as you tried to adhere to the diligent daughter archetype. After a while, they would repeat the same things over and over again just with different wording. It made you realize that being inside this room, power was nothing but a word. None of these men truly cared for the life of anyone: not their families, not their clan, not the non-curse users that they had to save, and not the children that they sent off on missions. No, these men’s purpose for having these meetings was fueled by control and appearances.     

“When are you going to just accept Osamu’s marriage proposal? My son is an impatient man with many women being offered to him. Why not make my boy’s day, Gojo?” 

“Perhaps you should consider that there is a reason why I have never accepted his marriage proposals, Naobito. Along with any other son of yours you’ve tried to send my way over the years.”  You retort as you take a sip of the sake in front of you. Like the others, Osamu wasn’t anything to look at. By far, the most unappealing of them all. You aren’t referring to his appearance but to him as an individual. With his mediocre skill set, you believed he entered the Hei on sheer luck. His only redeeming quality is that he was the same age as you. It contributed to his unattractive appeal as his mental age did not reflect his physical.

“When will you let go of this childish rebellion and accept one of their marriage proposals? Fairytale romances and true love do not exist for someone who is to ascend to be a clan leader.” His words are possibly the only logical thing that has been said during the entirety of the meeting. Love was never something you wanted and you don’t think it ever will. Partially because of the life you were set to have but also you have never felt those kinds of emotions for anyone before aside from familial love. 

It was rich that he was talking to you about being childish. Don’t be blinded to believe that the Zenins were the only clan asking for your hand as that’s not the case. Naobito was the most persistent out of them all. Your father wasn’t even as concerned about your future spouse as Naobito was.  “You may not understand my worth or even that of your sons but if I may express myself freely, let me pose an even far more daring question that could make you understand.” I did a horrendous job of defining you before. You were indeed still glorified that much hasn’t changed but you were a puppet with a consciousness with a life that could never be your own. “How many of your sons could put up a good fight against me?” 

The expression he made was one that you wish you had taken a picture of to show Toji. His thin eyebrows furrowed with a hardening gaze that was on the brink of cracking with the tension that had been created. “Trust, the reason that you are the next head of your clan is purely because fate decided to gain a sense of humor and made you the firstborn. Your abilities aren’t enough to be considered your silver lining.” The man remarked with words that have been made known to you ever since Satoru was born. The only aspect of life that was out of reach for the elders was fate but if this life were a utopia for them, they would’ve had Satoru be born first. You were grateful that you could carry the burdens so that Satoru wouldn’t have to one day. That’s why everything was bearable since this was all for him.

“If you wanted to challenge me to a spar you could’ve asked instead of hiding it with this prolonged conversation. How about we-” The benevolent voice of your father that called your name was enough to stun you into silence. “ You’re dismissed.” 

You believed that you inherited your father’s gift of having your tone of voice direct the atmosphere of a situation rather than the words spoken. He had spoken so little during the meeting you had momentarily let it slip your mind that he was present. People would say how similar you were to him and largely judge your character based on his. You didn’t consider yourself to be calm, calculated, or reserved but the world did. You considered yourself to be the complete opposite.

Standing up, you bow to your father, “My apologies.” You don’t even make the effort to see him with the gruff he let out as a response enough for you to know his disappointment. You also didn’t need to bother to look at Naobito to know that his eyes were hunting your retreating body.  

You weren’t even allowed a moment to reflect on what had happened as a tiny body with tufted hair like yours was seated at the first steps that descended from the building. His back was facing away from you but you could make out that he was holding onto something, maybe a ball or a toy of his. You watched as his head turned as if he were inspecting the area to either avoid being seen or trying to look for someone. 

“Toru, what are you doing here?” You asked, looking around to see if he had come here alone. Most of the meetings took place at either one of the campuses for Jujutsu High but today was the rare case of holding it at the Gojo compound. 

 “Finally! I thought I was going to have to wait all day for you to come out.” The tiny boy complained as you felt his hold tighten as he tried to tug you away with him. “Now come on! I want to play!”

Those meetings became bearable for him. You smiled at the boy before you ruffled his hair. “I thought we talked about being patient, ‘Toru? You can’t run away from training like this.”

He lifted his head toward you and pouted at your words. “But I missed you! This whole week has been training and it’s always the same thing over and over again. It’s so boring!” 

Placing one of your hands into his, you allow him to lead the way, “It’s for good for you. How else do you think you’ll ever get stronger than me? I had to do the same thing at your age to get to this point.”

You didn’t wholeheartedly believe that to be true. He deserved to be a kid and be able to play, go to traditional primary school, and make friends. Naobito was right, fate had a sense of humor. A terrible one at that.

“Whatever, I can worry about getting stronger than you when I’m older. Right now, I just want to play with you!” As the eldest, you should’ve taken him back to the training grounds. As his sister, you let him coerce you into playing an array of different games. It started off physical with games like “Red Light, Green Light” then strayed into games like “I, Spy.” You often wondered if he enjoyed the life he had and if moments like these were as important to him as they were to you. I could tell you that you are naive to undermine your brother’s love for you. In many ways, you felt you were failing him as his sister. The previous comment you made is a prime example of that. You should be nurturing his childhood but at some points, you feel like you hinder it. 

As a soft yawn escaped the little boy's voice, he made quick by covering his hands over his mouth. He wanted to keep spending with you. Lately, you’ve been busy with meetings and missions. This was one of the rare occasions that he’s been able to have you alone and away from everyone else. He didn’t want to go to sleep and then wake up with the uncertainty of if he’d even catch a glimpse of you throughout the day. 

You smiled at him as you poked his cheek. “I spy with my little eye someone who needs to go to sleep.” You brought your hand out for him to take but the 7-year-old boy didn’t budge.

He shook his head, crossing his arms over one another, and with a pout, he affirmed, “I’m not tired!” His body was against him as another yawn came out.

You scooped him up into your arms and almost instantly he fell asleep. Thankfully, where you guys were was close to the main house so that walk wasn’t far. Once you had entered the house you took notice of the familiar silence that was present regardless if your family was home or not. Your mother prided herself in her image so you assumed she was out at a tea party with high-standing women from other clans. Your father could be anywhere from still being at the meeting from earlier or in this case right in front of you.

“Care to explain why Satoru is with you and not training?” He made no effort to lower his voice and you felt Satoru twist his body a bit at the sound of his voice.

“Father, he is a child. He should not be training as hard as he is now. At his age, I wasn’t-” You were never allowed to speak freely with him, and at times you forget that. No worries, he would always remind you in the form of cutting your words short.

“And that’s where I went wrong with you.” The blue in his eyes was darker and more menacing compared to yours and Satoru’s. His hair was long with half of it being held up in a top knot while the other half was down.  His height aided in his uninviting aura standing at 6’4 and his yukata matched his cold exterior with it being a mixture of cool blues.  “Naobito’s words hold merit, I hope you know that. Don’t bring your brother down with you.” 

“Of course.” is all you say as you continue to make your way into Satoru’s bedroom. There wasn’t much personality to it as it was a traditional Japanese-style bedroom. The teddy bear on his bed that you had gifted him after winning it at a summer festival in high school was the only piece of personality his room had. Placing him down and tucking him in, you kiss his forehead. 

“Love you, ‘Toru.” You were making your way out of his room when you heard a mumbled, 

“Love you too.” from his direction. Turning to face him, you saw he was still asleep but now was hugging the bear. Your brother would always unknowingly find ways to make you smile which you did before leaving his room while trying to make your way out of the house.

“What are you doing going out at this time?” You heard your father call out from behind you and the smile soon fell. Turns out he hadn’t left when you took Satoru to his bedroom as he stood at the corner of the hallway with his arms crossed.

“I thought it would be a good idea to train. I haven’t been able to recently due to missions.” You lied and he seemed to buy it as he simply nodded before making his way to whoever knows where. 

He would have you castrated if he knew you were meeting up with the renowned Sorceror Killer.

“Is that my damsel in distress? How much do you want this time?” You teased the bulky man that looked comedic sitting amongst all the flora.  He yanked out a few flowers that were nearby before throwing them at you. Normally you would’ve reprimanded him for damaging your work like that but it wasn’t yours. You had somehow coerced the man into helping you plant/maintain your garden under the agreement that you’d give him money in return.

 “That joke stopped being funny after the first time, doll.” He rolled his eyes at your other comment before rubbing two of his fingers together in a money motion before “poofing” it away. “You don’t pay me enough to even consider you another form of income.” 

You laugh at this before grabbing the collar of his sweatshirt and pulling it down, you point to the prominent “love bites” he had received recently as you playfully pushed him away, “Maybe not, but those dates you take the women you swindle money from aren’t being paid from the money earned from that highly respectable job of yours.” 

A while after you found out about his “hobbies”, you grew desensitized to them. Granted you only experienced the before/aftermath of them; the “borrowed money”, the nauseating perfume that mingled with his, and the poorly hidden hickeys.  He described himself to be someone that was just experiencing the world and what it had to offer, good or bad.

“Getting so handsy with me but then pushing me away. You’re giving me mixed signals, doll.” The knack for being hypocritical had to be an inherited trait amongst the Zenin clan. 

A year has passed and you both certainly were liars. 

To an extent.

Yes, that was the closest that Toji had ever been allowed to get to you. That was in terms of physical contact. Over the year, you have gotten closer. You found out that he was a year older than you making him 22, how he got his scar, the night you talked for the first time he had only attended to tie off some loose ends with Naobito, and that he liked to gamble his money away.

After that initial meeting, the garden continued to be the designated meet-up spot. The number of times you’d see each other varied. Neither one of you had contact with one other outside of the garden so figuring out when the other would show up was a guessing game. You could either see each other every day or go months without any contact. The interactions held similar exchanges overall: talking about their days, stargazing, lingering touches, and unspoken words.

The mutual attraction from the start was palpable, but it had become difficult to deny as the years went by. This is more of an issue for yourself than for Toji, who vocalizes his attraction at any moment as long as there is an opportunity. You denied him for multiple reasons. The first is his instinct to wake up in other people’s beds rather than his own.

You were correct in assuming that Toji was a womanizer even if he heavily denied it. 

“Trying to signal to you that we’re friends shouldn’t be viewed as a bad thing. It seems you keep conveniently forgetting that part.” 

“Those women could be you if you just said yes.”  As per the routine, you ignored him. 

“You’re not usually the last one to show up between the both of us. Stuck in one of those meetings again or did something else take up your time?”

“Hmm.” Was the only response you gave him and he noticed your mood sour at mentioning your day.

“What did they do to piss you off this time?” He asked, chuckling at the irked expression you made. Anyone would consider your friendship to be an unlikely pairing that neither one of you could offer an answer to. In terms of bonding, if asked how you managed to remain friends you would bring up the mutual distaste for the higher powers of Jujutsu society. 

Landing your head onto his lap and letting your hands run down your face, you groaned,  “More like I pissed someone else off.”

He ran his fingers through your hair, pushing away a few strands that had fallen on top of your face. He gave up on trying to get rid of his habit of admiring your features. Though he has never admitted this to you, the women that he has hooked up with have never once come close to your beauty. It’s not like you made it easy with those eccentric features you had.  “You know, usually someone has to piss you off before you piss someone else off. If I were to guess it was Naobito this time?”

You shook your head irritated at having to think of that man again before answering,  “It’s always the same thing with him. With all due respect, none of your cousins are necessarily the most tolerable to be around.” You knew he didn’t take offense to that. He would’ve made the same remark about them too. Most likely an even harsher and more descriptive assortment of words. 

“It was my father.”

“Oh, now that one is different. Don’t tell me I’m influencing bad behavior on you, doll.” He was joking but there was truth to that statement. His influence was not in your actions but more in the actions that you wouldn’t allow yourself to act upon. For reference, as you lay on his lap you wonder how he would feel inside your mouth as you see the imprint of his dick from his sweatpants from your peripheral, and judging based on the imprint alone you could see that he was well-endowed. 

“It’s been a year and I still can tell you that you don’t have that kind of effect on me.” Lies like these remained a focal point in your relationship but Toji always knew when you were lying. You’d do what everyone else did when they lied like avoiding eye contact.

“Why don’t you leave?” He has posed this question to you previously and you’d always reply differently. Sometimes taking it seriously, sometimes not as much.

“Are you suggesting we become co-workers? With all due respect, I don’t think I’d take pleasure in knowing my livelihood is dependent on murder.” You chose the latter. 

“Don’t knock yourself too short. That gaze of yours could certainly knock a man dead with just a look. Might as well play up your strengths.” He joked as he twirled a strand of your hair in between his fingers.

“You flatter me too much.”

He tugged on the strand his hand eliciting a reaction out of you that he had dreamed about on various nights,  “You haven’t answered me. You keep complaining about the same things and the same people. Why not just leave it all?” 

“And what? Leave Satoru by himself? I leave and then what becomes of him? The elders will just force him to be the next clan leader and fulfill my responsibilities. That’s not what I want for him.” You’ve fantasized about your life outside of all of this on multiple occasions. If fate had been fond of you right now, you’d be studying in college for a degree you weren’t a hundred percent certain of. Rest assured, you’d have a collective of people who would understand and make you feel certain that you’ll figure it out one day. You’d also be working a part-time job at a nearby cafe to sustain you and Satoru in a one-bedroom apartment near his elementary. He would certainly be a class clown that was adored by all as an individual. Craving the ordinary may seem foolish for other people and if it was then you were truly an idiot. 

“You keep mentioning other people in your future but you haven’t said what you want yet.” Alongside the unspoken rule of not speaking about Toji’s sexual outings, topics such as these were hardly ever spoken about. Whether it was because it never came up in conversation or because it was believed to be too much you didn’t know.

“I don’t know what I want. I don’t have dreams. I don’t have aspirations. What’s the point of leaving if I have nothing worth leaving for?  ” You shrugged after you removed yourself from his lap to sit upright but didn’t make an effort to create distance between the two of you.

“Do you need a reason to be free?” His tone of voice made his words feel like a throwaway statement. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. However, those words would continue to hang over your head for years to come, trust me I would know.

From his perspective, he was doing anything to get by. He became a mercenary because it was something he was good at and it paid well. It wasn’t a dream of his nor something he wanted to do. The only thing that it guaranteed him was freedom and a new life. Just like you, he didn’t particularly know what he wanted to do when he decided to leave the clan. He just knew that it was something he needed to do for himself. 

Leaning your head into the conjugation of his neck and jaw, feeling yourself get drowsy you let your eyes fall shut. “Don’t feel like talking anymore. Just stay here.”

After hearing your soft breaths, he knew you had fallen asleep. This was the first time in a while that he noticed that you hadn’t even acknowledged the guests that would frequent the sky at this time of night. The illuminated decorations scattered throughout the sky form different shapes. He never actually retained any of the constellation shapes that you’d point out to him.  It was mostly the stories and the names that were attached to the constellations that he’d remember. Orion and Artemis were apparently constellations that would appear frequently as that’s a prominent story he remembered you telling him. I would tell you their story but now is not the time.

He wrapped an arm around your sleeping body to keep you steady and leaned his head over yours as he spoke to the stars, “Friends? I think she’s the only one out of the both of us that believes that.”

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authors note: hope you enjoyed this chapter! please reblog, like, comment, or whatever you feel comfortable doing to let me know that you like this story and if I should continue it. Also, if you have anything you have questions about it don't be afraid to ask! I'll answer it to the best I can without spoiling too much :)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #jjk gojo #toji x you #toji x y/n #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #anime #jjk anime #jjk angst #jjk fluff #eventual smut

[callsigndragon]

Seeing Red | Ch. 26: The plot thickens ✍️📲

Word count: 4.3k (this is nuts)

Warnings: swearing, dad jake, WHO SENTS THE BOUQUET (read and you'll know), jealous jake, cycunt, someone gets punched pt.2, medical innacuracy but hey i'm a teacher not a doctor, BOB'S WIFE, and a fucking cliffhanger bc this chapter is super long.

A/N: NEXT. CHAPTER. REVEALS. THE. TRUTH. JUST. WAIT. A. BIT. Pls 😭❤️

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It’s been a month since you came here. And what a month! 

After the second week of silence regarding the big secret, you stopped waiting. You knew he wanted to tell you; he just needed a bit of time. How much time was a bit, you didn’t know. But you could wait. 

During the last month, Jake has been the best father you could have wished for your son. He spent days baby-proofing his house, with Reuben’s help and with a soon-to-be dad named Bob, who took lots of notes. Liam has only been in Jake’s house once, when he hosted a dinner the night before you all left for a mission. 

Oh, the mission. It was more of a scouting mission, but you still had to spend almost two weeks on a carrier with the whole squad. That meant sharing a room with Phoenix, small corridors, and a lack of sun. The narrow corridors were the worst part. The universe must have been trying to laugh at you or something, because every time you had to walk through one of those, you found Jake at the other end. It brought thousands of memories. The ones that left you with weak knees. Yeah, he still has that effect on you. 

Jake has become a mystery to you. While he may appear to be a completely different person on the outside—someone you don't know—on the inside, he is still the same man you fell in love with. 

His entire demeanor has changed, too. It’s like his father's instincts have taken over his personality, and all that bad attitude he displayed with the new recruits or as an instructor is now gone. He has become a perfect aviator, a perfect instructor, and a perfect father. Warlock even came one day to congratulate him for his outstanding behavior. 

You’re sure Warlock was the one who came to congratulate him because Cyclone couldn’t even think about it. Every time you two were in the same room, something sent shivers down your spine. You have been trying to avoid him lately. 

Everything is perfect. Liam has a lovely and supportive family—more uncles and aunts than days in a week—and Penny and Mav, whom Liam calls Memaw and Pepaw. Your mom, hearing that Liam has so many people surrounding him, has told you that ‘you don’t need her’. She’s literally trying to get you and Jake together, whatever it takes. And she believes she can accomplish this by staying at home with Lady. She has adopted the dog as her own. 

Everything is perfect. Well, it could be even better if Jake told you the truth. 

But you’ll have to wait for that. 

Jake knocks on your door just when you have turned off the computer. “Ready, sweets?” 

“Yeah, just let me get my stuff,” You mumble while opening one of the drawers to get some folders. 

Jake watches silently as the dog tags slip from the inside of your shirt, hanging from the chain. There they are. The engagement ring he bought, the wedding band you chose together, the one that he placed on your finger at your wedding. How did Amelia get a picture of them? He will ask her later. 

Your hand hides them quickly inside your shirt, where they belong, and you glance in Jake’s way. He’s grabbing your bag, his right hand patting his front pocket for some reason. “Warlock is now the babysitter?” 

You laugh, closing the drawer and walking to him. “Don’t you think he is better than Dummy Boo?” 

“Much, much better. I was thinking that we could have another Disney movie night.” He suggests, opening the door for you. 

“Sounds good. We came back a week ago but we’ve been doing so much paperwork…” You groan, trying to get your bag from Jake’s hands, but he softly slaps your hand away. “Give me my bag.” 

“Nope,” he grins walking alongside you through the corridor, his hand brushing with yours at every step. He wishes he could just slide his hand between your fingers, draw infinite shapes in your skin.

Ames is right. He needs to tell you. 

“It feels like all I’ve seen of him this week is his sleepy form.” Jake mentions, and you nod, because it’s true. He’s been sleeping more lately. Maybe he gets tired at daycare. 

“Don’t worry, we still have tons of Disney movies to watch with him. I can’t remember what was the last one we saw.”

“The Emperor’s new groove. Next ones are Atlantis and Lilo and Stitch.” 

“Maybe Atlantis is a bit too much for him.” You point out. “Lilo and Stitch.” 

“I bought a Stitch plushie. He’s gonna want one of those.” Jake chuckles and you shake your head while laughing. 

You sigh, stopping when you reach Warlock’s office. “Jake.” 

“Yeah?”

“Maybe when Liam falls asleep we could… talk?” 

He sees the hope in your eyes, a sparkle in them that makes his heart skip a bit. “Yeah. We’ll talk.”

The smile that you give him in return could illuminate a town for an entire month. “Thank you.” 

A part of him feels miserable that you have to thank him for doing something that he should have done before. “You don’t need to thank me, sweets.”

You kiss his cheek and open the door, Jake standing behind you with reddening cheeks. The smiles on your faces drop when you see Cyclone instead of Warlock. 

“Where’s Solomon?” You inquire as you observe Liam doodling on a piece of paper. 

“He had to leave, and I stayed with Liam.” 

"Hey, baby," you say as you kneel in front of him and kiss his cheek.

“Hello, mama.” 

“Want to go home?” He nods, and you move his hair out of his face. You need to get him a haircut. “Dada is waiting outside. Can you go with him while I give Beau some boring papers?” 

“Dadaaaa!” Liam goes running towards his dad and hugs his leg. Jake drops the bag and hugs him. 

“What have you done today, bubs?” 

“I paint a lot. Wally is funny.” Liam explains to his dad, who believes that this Wally is Warlock. Liam goes around giving nicknames to everyone. Mickey is Mickey Mouse. Nobody knows why Reuben is called Ben-Ben. Nat, Javy and Bob don’t have nicknames, their names are just that short. And then, there’s Rooster. Well, Woosta. Jake fell to the floor the first time Liam called Bradley like that. 

“What about Dummy Boo? Was he funny?” Jake keeps talking to his son while observing the interaction between Red and Cyclone. He still gives him a weird feeling; there’s something behind his actions that doesn’t sit right with Jake. 

Javy calls it jealousy, but it goes beyond that. It’s just weird. 

Cyclone writes something on a piece of paper that he pushes across the desk until it sits in front of Red’s hand. She takes it with a smile on her face. What the fuck is going on? 

Did Cycunt just give her his number? 

Today, of all days, the day where he has decided to confess everything to Red, and maybe, even though Jake knows that this is hoping too much, that will lead to the two of them having another chance to be together. 

This has to be a joke. 

“Woosta!” 

“My baby!” Bradley grabs Liam by the waist and lifts him up, making him giggle. It’s quite a sound that you don’t hear too often in a gym. 

“Can you take care of him for a bit? I want to hit the bag.” You ask him, leaving Liam’s bag next to the two boys. 

“Of course. We’re gonna play a bit with the football, right, buddy?” He tickles Liam, and you smile. You’re so lucky to have them. 

“Thanks, Rooster.” 

You get your things out of the bag that Jake has left in front of you and go change into more comfortable clothes. You’ve been boxing since the academy days; at first it was like a joke, not really thinking how much you would end up enjoying it. It eventually became a part of your daily routine. Hit the bag for a while to de-stress. 

You turn back to the room, wrapping your hands with the red cotton wraps you always carry in your bag. 

“Want help?” Jake stands behind the punching bag, his brows knitted together and his arms crossed across his chest. 

“Yeah, thanks.” He helps you, silently wrapping your hands and fingers. “Are you okay?” 

“Just peachy.” 

“Okay…” 

He drops your hand once it is properly wrapped, then gets the gloves and assists you in slipping your hands into them. “Ready?” 

You nod, moving your arms a bit, and throw a combination against the bag. It feels good. 

You keep going for a bit, feeling Jake’s eyes on you. You know he wants to say something, but he's biting his tongue. 

“Just say it, cowboy.” 

“So... you and Cyclone.” He finally mutters through clenched teeth. 

“What about me and Cyclone?”

“There’s something there?” 

You stop punching the bag immediately. “What?” 

“Every time we have to leave the kid outside daycare, he’s there. Every. Single. Time.” 

You move around the bag, staring into his eyes. “Please, tell me you’re not trying to insinuate what you’re trying to insinuate.” 

“What? That you two are together? Perhaps that's why he called you to lead the team?" His voice raises a level, making the others stop working out and look at the two of you. 

You let out a dry laugh, watching from the corner of your eye as Nat walks closer to the two of you. “You really think I’m dating Cyclone?” 

“That’s what it looks like, yes” 

“And you think you have any right to comment on who I date or not?” 

“So it’s right!” 

You close your eyes for a second. “Rooster, can you take Liam out of here?” 

“Come on, buddy. Let’s play outside” You wait until Rooster and Liam leave the gym to respond. 

“Look, asshole. I’ve been waiting for a fucking month—no, scratch that. I’ve been waiting for three fucking years for you to come back and tell me what the fuck I’ve done wrong, why you left, and why I had to raise our kid alone.” 

“Red, calm down,” Phoenix says, standing next to Jake. 

“I won’t calm down. I’ve been here for a month. You’ve been in my house, every fucking night, and you have slept on the couch because you didn’t want to leave. I knew that you being part of Liam’s life meant that I’d have to see you all the time, even if I didn’t want to.” Your voice is starting to break; you pause for a second to breathe, but Jake takes it as his turn to speak. 

“I think I’m entitled to know who the fuck enters my kid’s life.” Jake spits out. 

“Jake, you asshole, you have literally been with me every day since I set foot on this base! We work together, we eat together, we go home together with Liam, you sleep there…” 

“Your point?” 

You're trembling, your eyes are wet, and your teeth are clenched. Why is he doing this? “Do you think I had time left to go see that man?” 

“I don’t know, but he gave you a piece of paper with his number, didn’t he?” He steps closer to you. “Maybe even his address.” 

“Jake, man. It’s time to stop” Reuben puts a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off. 

“In case you forgot, you left me. Let me repeat it again, because maybe your brain doesn’t understand it. You left me.” You emphasize each word by pressing your glove against his chest. “You don’t have a fuck to say about my life. And no, I’m not seeing Cyclone.” 

You turn around to leave, wanting to be the mature person in the room. But again, Jake being Jake, he needs to have the last word. “Then tell him to stay the fuck away from what’s mine” 

“Oh shit,” Payback mutters when you come back to where they are. 

You throw an uppercut to his stomach, making him fall to his knees. He grunts, breathlessly looking at you. You crouch down, resting your arms on your knees. “You don’t own me, Jake Seresin. Never forget that.” 

He starts coughing when you enter the locker room. 

"Red.”

“Oh my god, Jake. What now?” You are really close to throwing something at him. 

“Please. I’m so-” He moves closer to you, the angriness in his face long gone. You can only see regret now. 

“If you say you’re sorry after all the bullshit you just said in front of everyone, I will punch you again, this time without gloves.” You warn him, walking a few steps back. You don’t want him close to you. Your body will betray you, and you know it. 

While you were out there screaming at each other, you felt a need to just grab him by the back of his neck and kiss him. He needs to remember that you married him three years ago and that you weren’t the one who asked for a divorce. He needs to know that you were and still are very much in love with him. 

And even though you can understand the jealousy he must have felt and how it makes you do and say crazy things, it’s not an excuse. 

“You wanna know what that piece of paper was?” You rummage through your bag, looking for that damned piece of paper, pressing it against his chest. “Read it.” 

“Jane Simpson?” His brows furrow. That's not the name he was expecting to read. 

“Cyclone’s daughter. She’s a sitter. Cyclone said that next time the daycare is closed, I could call her and ask her to take care of Liam.” You grab all your things while Jake registers this information, feeling like an absolute dick. Great, he deserves it. “Don’t fucking come to my house tonight.” 

Jake spends the next five hours inside his car, arms and head resting on the steering wheel. How has he messed up so much? Today was the day. He was going to tell you the truth, and there wouldn't be any secrets left between them. Not anymore. 

But fucking Jake Seresin had to open up his big mouth.  

He grabs his phone, taking a deep breath before sending a text to Mav. 

Ames and Mav are glad that you punched him. He really deserves it. He's been scolded by both of them for hours now.

"When you punched Rooster a while ago, I was glad," Ames explains, filling up Jake’s glass of water. "But now? I want to go and give her a round of applause." 

"Yeah, yeah. I know I deserve it, don't remind me." Jake lets his head fall against the table. The two of them are sitting outside the bar, in one of the benches, Mav has gone inside to help Penny with the new customers. "I'm gonna need a miracle now. She won't forgive me." 

"Let's remember that she still carries her wedding rings around." She points out, playing with Jake's hair. 

"How did you find out?" Jake's voice comes out muffled.

"Red showed them to Nat, Penny saw them and sent us a text. I've been carefully trying to take a picture of them since she told me. And one day she fell asleep on the couch, Liam had been playing with them…" 

"He likes shiny things," Jake mutters to himself, that sentence making so much sense now. He liked to play with his mom's dog tags because the rings were there. 

"I just took a picture. But instead of making you understand that she's still pretty much in love with you, and faithfully waiting for you to come back, it had the opposite effect." 

He lifts his head, realizing that he said all those stupid things literally one hour after Amelia sent him that photo. "I'm an asshole." 

"Congrats, it took you only…" She checks her phone. "Shit, it's almost midnight." 

"Already?" Jake grabs his phone from his pocket. It had been silent all day. 

He gets up from the bench in a swift motion, the glass of water falling over the table. "Jake, what the fuck?" 

He unlocks the phone and calls you, his whole body frozen in pure terror. 

Not his kid. 

Everything but him. 

"Red?" He can hear Liam crying. It breaks his heart into a million pieces. 

"Oh my god Jake, thank God. Liam has a high fever, and the fucking car isn't working, and…” You're trying to calm Liam, but he can hear you crying. You must be so scared. Jake grabs his car keys and runs to his car for the second time in one month. 

Jake knows he has to be the big person now. He needs to keep his cool and not fuck this up. His son needs him. "Hey, hey. Honey, listen to me, okay? I'm at the Hard Deck. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll be with you. I'm gonna call Bob and check if his wife is working tonight." 

"Shhh, Liam. I know it hurts, but we're gonna make it stop, okay? Dada's coming." You choke on your words, and he doesn't want to end the call, but he needs to. He needs to call Bob.

"I'm gonna hang now. I'll be there soon." 

"Hurry, please." 

You hang up, and he scrolls down his recent calls to look for Bob. 

"Man, I don't want to talk to you right now." Bob quickly says, angry at Jake’s behavior. 

"Bob, please. Liam’s sick. Is Doc working?" 

"Yes, she is. Take him to the hospital; I'll call her." 

"Thanks, Bob. We'll be there soon."

"I hope it's nothing."

Jake hangs up the phone for the second time in minutes and drives like a madman. He can hear Liam's heartbreaking cries in his head. He must be hurting. It could be literally anything. Reuben told him that children get sick often; it's part of their life. But this is his first time going through this. 

When he drove like this last month because you were sick, he felt scared. This is ten times worse. A kid is sick. He's a baby; he doesn't know how to explain things. If he's hurting, he won't say it; he's only going to cry and hope that it goes away. 

And the only thing his parents can do is take him to the ER and hope for the best. 

Once he gets to your home, he sees you. You're wearing the same clothes you had in the gym, and it makes it look like it has only been a few hours since the last time he saw you. The tiredness on your face, however, makes it feel like an eternity. 

“Get in.” He opens the passenger door from the inside, and you run to get inside the car, tears staining your face. Liam keeps crying, his face is red and wet, and when he sees his dad, he makes grabby hands in his direction and calls for him between cries. “Dada needs to drive, bubs. We’re gonna take you to see Doc, okay? You remember Doc?” 

Jake turns the engine on and drives to the hospital. “Is she working?” You ask loudly, trying to make yourself heard over Liam’s cries. 

“Yeah, she’s waiting for us.” 

“Thank god.” 

Once you get to the ER, you see Doc waiting for you, her hand resting on her small baby bump. “There you are.” 

“Aren’t you gonna get into trouble for this?” 

“Pediatrics is empty. Follow me.” 

Doc leads you to one of the children’s rooms in the ER. You try to leave Liam in bed, but he doesn’t want to let go of you. Jake hands him a plushie, and Liam’s attention is diverted long enough for Doc to check his temperature. “Has he been eating well lately?” 

“Warlock told me that Liam didn’t eat all his morning snacks, and he didn’t want to eat dinner early.” You explain, playing with your fingers. Jake takes your hand between his, squeezing it tightly. 

“It’s okay, relax.” He whispers, and you nod. 

“Has he been angry or distracted?” Doc is now looking at Liam’s ears. 

“Not really.” 

“Has he been rubbing his ear?” 

You think for a moment. “Yeah. He’s been doing that all afternoon.” 

She nods and grabs her tablet, writing down everything. “It’s just an ear infection. He rubs his ear, hoping to get rid of the pain.” 

Jake and you both sigh with relief. Ear infections are very common. “You must think I’m an idiot for not noticing and overreacting like this.” 

Doc smiles and hugs Red. “You did what you had to do. Your kid was in pain, and you didn’t know what to do, so you went to the doctor. That’s what good parents do.” 

“Thank you, Doc.” Jake says when she turns to hug him. 

“Any time. I’m gonna get some painkillers for him. Wait here. You’ll be able to leave in a minute.” She leaves you alone, Liam more calm now that he has a new toy to play with, but silent tears still run down his face. 

“I’m sorry you had to run to my house for an ear infection.” You mutter under your breath, your gaze fixed on Liam's hair. 

“I should be the one apologizing here, sweets. I was supposed to be there with you.” Jake’s thumb caresses your knuckles; the action melts you inside. You’ve missed him so much. Being close to him Touching him. Feeling him. 

“You’re cute, but you’re not cute when you’re jealous.” You say, somehow make him chuckle. 

He lifts his eyes and locks them with yours in an honest, poignant stare. “You’re the only thing I have left, Red. You and Liam. I was so scared to lose you both. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“Jake…” 

Doc enters the room, medicine in hand. “Okay, buddy, I’m gonna give you this, and once you get home, you’re gonna feel so much better.” She pushes the oral syringe into Liam’s mouth, who takes the medicine like a good boy. “That’s it. Here’s the name of the medicine I just gave him.” 

You look at the paper. “Yeah, I have this one at home.” 

“Perfect then. It’s gonna kick in very soon. He will fall asleep soon, too. His body is really tired from all the crying.” Doc kisses Liam’s head. “I hope to see you soon under much better circumstances.” 

“Thank you so much, Doc. You’re the best.” Jake hugs her again and takes Liam. 

“Don’t mention it. I’ll call Bob and tell him it’s nothing, okay? Go home and rest. You both look like you need it.” She gives you a sympathetic smile and accompanies you to the door, waving to a sleepy Liam, who is now resting in his dad’s arms. 

“I think he’s gonna fall asleep.” Jake whispers, and you look at him. Yeah, he has that tired look in his eyes. 

“I’ll drive.” 

He frowns. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll drive.” 

“He’s asleep.” You whisper, sitting next to Jake on the sofa. The room is dark, with the only source of light coming from the streetlight on the other side of the street. 

Jake’s head rests against the back of the sofa. “You should go to sleep, too. I’ll stay here in case he wakes up.” 

You shake your head and start crying. “I’m sorry, Jake.” 

“Hey, hey,” He takes your face between his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “What are you apologizing for?” 

“I called you crying like a crazy woman, and all that happened was that Liam had an ear infection.” 

Jake shushes you and hugs you tightly. “No, that’s not what happened. A good mom called the not-so-good dad and asked for help when their kid wasn’t feeling good.” 

“You’re a good dad, Jake.” You state, not leaving room for doubts. He is a good dad, and he needs to know that. 

“But I’m not a good man.” He retorts, separating himself from your body, even if that’s exactly the opposite of what he wants to do. 

You sigh, leaning against the sofa. “Jake, you said some stupid things. And you apologized. I can’t imagine how you must have felt when you suddenly encountered yourself as part of a family, and then your brain tells you that some prick is trying to steal them away from you.” 

Jake snorts. “You called Cyclone a prick?” 

“Cycunt suits him better.” You smirk, and Jake swears he could kiss you. “Look, I know he was flirting with me, but I thought that if I didn’t say anything, he would stop.” 

“Nah, it doesn’t work that way. Men are idiots. Ignore us, and we’ll think that you’re trying to play hard to get. Say no, and we’ll think you’re saying yes. Be completely obvious, and we’ll think that you’re not interested at all.” 

“And you say that women are difficult.” 

“That’s why you’re the ones giving birth, sweets. You’re better than us in every single aspect.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. “You’re not a bad man, Jake. The only bad thing you’ve done is easy to fix.” 

Jake looks at his hands for a second, deep in thought. “I’m gonna need something strong.” 

“Tequila? Mickey gave me a bottle.” 

“Tequila works.” 

You get up and go to the kitchen, coming back in an instant with two glasses and the bottle. Jake grabs the bottle and fills the glasses, clinking them before downing it in one shot. 

“Okay. You want the truth? Here’s the truth.”

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[rosemary-morgan]

Javier Escuella X F.Reader - It's never to late to repent (Part 2)

(Pictures found on pinterest/google. That one with Javier is mine. Collage made by me 🌺)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

The second chapter is online 🥰 thanks to all who read and like my story 🐝🌺 I hope you will enjoy the second chapter too!

@rose-of-black-blood @livingdeadgirly

If anyone of you want to be tagged to not miss the newest chapter, please let me know 🙏

👉Read Part 1 /Part 3 / Part 4

Warning: a little angsty, broken hearts and their effects, hints of depression!

Summary: Javier is trying to escape his past, while you still have the hope of seeing him again one day. But the loneliness and pain of a broken heart keeps pulling you back to reality. This never-ending pain just doesn't seem to go away, and you try to suppress it as much as you can…

Javier Escuella X F.Reader - It's never to late to repent (Part 2)

Javier sighed softly while sitting by the fire and sharpening the blade of his knife. The pleasant tranquility of nature surrounded him. The soft croaking of the crickets was like a chorus in unison.

Many things were going through Javier's mind, he thought about the turn his life had taken since Dutch's downfall, the downfall of his family. After Javier lost all his trust in Dutch, he lost himself. He had traveled a lot, trying to cope with the pain and the loss of his family, but he had fallen into one shit situation into another. But at some point Javier had realized that real life was different. He had realized that it had been time to come to rest, to earn his money with decent work. It was not a life of luxury that Javier lived. He lived in a small hut, a bit away from the city center. This was the best he could get in the area, yet it was possible for him to sleep in a bed, something that had been impossible for him for decades. His job was making furniture, engraving it. He had a talent for that kind of thing and his boss liked what he saw. In the last few months, Javier had made great progress. There was a customer in Saint Denis who wanted to see his skills and so Javier was asked to visit that customer. Well… then you came into the picture. Suddenly you were there, in Saint Denis. Javier had avoided this cursed city for years, for he had not come to terms with the bank robbery that had gone wrong in 1899. It had been the beginning of the end.

Javier would never be able to forget how young Lenny had been lying in his own blood. Shot by Pinkertons. Or Hosea who had been a father figure to all of them. A man who had taught him so many things. Guarma was also a dark chapter in his life. He had been tortured there and that had left its mark on his psyche.

Seeing you was the happiest moment for him in years. Knowing that you were alive was an incredible relief for Javier. Yet you seem so far away from him. How could he ever come face to face with you? After he had sent you to hell because, unlike him, you had realized the truth. God, he wanted you so much. Javier suffered like a dog without you. All these years he had been as miserable as you. Living apart from you was a torture for him!

Javier put his knife aside to pull out a piece of jewelry from his vest pocket. It was a necklace, with a medallion. He opened it and looked at your photograph. After all these years, he still had it with him. It was the only thing he had left of you. How many sleepless nights had he had? He couldn't even count them. Nights in which he had looked at your beautiful picture and guilt had eaten him up.

"Y/N… Mi rosa…"

He clasped the medallion with his hand, closing his eyes as he did so, trying to suppress the pain in his heart, but he had never been able to do that before either.

“Mi amor… nunca he dejado de amarte” (I’ve never stopped loving you)

Maybe you were married? Had children? Javier didn't know. Did he even want to know? See you with another man by your side? Probably not!

But this uncertainty would kill him! Making him extremely restless with these thoughts! He sighed in annoyance, started to wriggle his leg, his whole body moving as he did so. He hated the thought of seeing you with another man! At some point it became so unbearable for him that he got on his horse and went for a night ride. He needed a clear head now, he needed to sort out his thoughts…

♦♦♦♦

You looked at yourself in the mirror, really liking how the new dress looked on you. It's been a long time since you last treated yourself. You were actually only working to earn your salary, and had often forgotten to do something good for you. Therefore, it came in handy that the train connection had broken down and had forced you to stay in Saint Denis yesterday. With a smile you pulled the fabric over your shoulders, looking at your skin and how the dress flatters your figure. It was a dark green dress, or emerald green as the seller had called it. Actually, you had no idea what occasion you would wear this dress to, but you had liked it so much that you wanted it. Of course, you could have sewn one for yourself, but you still had orders waiting and you couldn't just let them wait.

"I could wear it… wear it tonight?"

You looked thoughtfully in the mirror as you adjusted your dress. You knew about a performance at the theater. It would be the perfect opportunity to wear this dress. So why not? What was wrong with a young woman going to the theater alone? You had done everything alone for the last five years, so you were used to it, along with the stares from the people, since it was rather unusual for a young woman to sit down alone in a restaurant, or to go into a theater. You still had to admit that it often hurt to see couples. Couples walking through the park holding hands. People looking at each other in love while sitting in a restaurant and letting their food get cold because they didn't care about what was going on around them. You had once felt that feeling too. That feeling of love and happiness. Oh, how you wanted to experience that again…

Your gaze wandered to the ground as your thoughts searched for Javier. You couldn't help it, but sometimes this man just crept into your mind. There was nothing you could do about those memories, even though it hurt so much that very moment. Loneliness has become a bitter companion in your life. And the more you thought about it, the more you fell into sadness. Now, in those moments when you were not among people, those were the most difficult moments for you because you had the feeling that no one would see your tears. You sighed heavily as the first tears shimmered in your eyes. Until a few seconds ago, you had been happy about your dress, until Javier had come back to your mind. You had asked yourself the absurd question of whether he would like you in this dress. But it didn't matter at all, because there would be no answer.

Why had Javier hurt you so much ? You couldn't forget his words until today. And yet you had forgiven him. But you didn't know if he was still alive. There was not even an address where you could send him a letter. There were hundreds of letters in your home. Letters that you had written, but never sent. Some you had burned in the fire, others you had torn up. And that's what you did in the beginning to banish Javier. But it was of no use…

You shook your head, undid the bows on your dress to loosen the corset and finally pulled it off your body. What was that all about? Why this torture? You decide to go back home right away. Work was calling and that had always been the best distraction for you. When you had taken off your dress, you put back on the one you had come here in. Your mood had dropped rapidly and that you were sad could be seen clearly in your face, but you didn't care. A bit gruffly, you packed the new dress into the box, which you had received with the purchase, in order to be able to transport the dress safely home. Within a few minutes you were out of the hotel and headed straight for the train station. You hoped very much that you would be able to travel home.

With a quiet sigh, you headed to the cashier's desk to buy a ticket. While waiting, you let your eyes wander around the area. And suddenly, there it was again. The scent of spicy lavender. Just like the day before. Instantly you were reminded of Javier, because he had smelled the same! But you shook your head, about to banish that man from your mind again, when something caught your attention. When you looked out onto the platform, there was a young man… a cigarette in his hand. His raven black hair tied back in a pigtail. A red scarf he wore over a blue jacket. You frowned and stopped in place, watching the man and wondering if you had now completely lost your mind. You thought you saw Javier, but you couldn't swear to it, as he had his back to you. The supposed stranger threw his cigarette to the ground, blew out the smoke, and in the next moment looked slowly in your direction.

As if in a trance, you looked at him, not even hearing what the train conductor said to you, as he handed you the ticket. Javier really was standing in front of you. Only a few meters away, but he hadn't noticed you yet. But he felt all the more that he was being watched. This feeling grew stronger until Javier looked directly in your direction and when he saw you, his heart almost stopped. He stared at you, his throat went dry. How many times had he wished to see you again? How often had he imagined scenarios in which you would find each other again? Saying everything that had remained unspoken? And now that time had come. But for what he had done to you, he could not be ashamed enough. Not just what he had done to you. But John and Arthur as well. You'd probably send him to hell anyway.

"Miss? Miss, the train leaves in five minutes! Miss?"

But you didn't listen at all to the friendly man behind the counter and he gave up, served the other passengers. You were busy processing in your mind what just happened.

Only a few moments passed, but time seemed to stop. And that magic, that moment, dissolved when Javier shamefully averted his gaze from you and walked in the other direction.

"No…"

You wouldn't let him go! Not this time. It hurt you immensely to see him running from you after all these years. Did he have any idea how miserable you'd been without him? You immediately ran after Javier, calling his name.

"Javier!"

Instantly he stopped, looked down at the ground, and swallowed nervously. His Adam's apple trembled, he tried to suppress his tears that were just rising inside him. His heart was pounding up to his throat! His stomach contracted painfully. He heard your footsteps, but he still had his back turned to you. He perceived your scent and for a moment he closed his eyes to recall what you once were. A couple that had loved each other dearly. A young couple who believed that nothing could tear them apart. How wrong he had been. The most painful thing was that he had allowed you to be torn apart.

You stopped at his side, looked at his back, wondered if he still loathed you, because he didn't even look at you. But at least he had stopped.

"Javier?"

Carefully you put your hand on his shoulder, making him turn towards you, but still his eyes were not on you. You could make out a guilty look on his face, which gave you a glimmer of hope that he might feel something positive for you.

"What's wrong with you, Javier? Can't you look me in the eye?"

And after you said this, his gaze slowly moved up to your pretty face. Yet he remained silent, for his words stuck firmly in his throat. You looked at him closely. He had not aged in the last five years. You were still young, just in your early thirties, and yet it seems as if decades had passed.

"Do you think you broke my heart?"

It needed to be said. You've been carrying this with you all these years now. Javier had hurt you deeply, but you had forgiven him. You were ready to make peace, and now that he was standing in front of you, all you wanted to do was lie in his arms. But at the moment it felt like you two were complete strangers.

"Yes, Javier… You did. You hurt me a lot when you stood by Dutch and Micah…"

"It's better if I go, Y/N. I'm sorry…"

Javier had only wanted the best for his family at the time, but had been taken advantage of like a puppet. Dutch had blinded him and that he had listened to it, well, he just had to live with the consequences now.

But you didn't even think about letting him go! What was that about? He was just going to leave? Just like that?! Didn't he have anything else to say? Immediately you grabbed his arm, whereupon Javier also stopped. It didn't look like you had to make an effort to keep him with you. A good sign. At least, that's what you hoped.

"It won't help you if you run away, Javier. You won't undo anything by doing that!"

Besides, you had just found him again.

Javier saw your tears and at that moment his eyes softened. It hurt so much to see you. He had no words to say! It seemed easier for him to leave and go on living his life as he was used to.

"Y/N, I've made a terrible mistake…"

That was what you were hoping to hear. Not because you wanted to claim your right, but because you had hoped he had made his peace with you.

"There is no hope for me. No forgiveness, Y/N."

"Oh, Javier… don't say that. We all made mistakes…"

His skin tingled pleasantly as you placed your delicate hand against his cheek. Lovingly, you stroked your thumb over his skin as you sought the look in his eyes. The scent of spicy lavender rose to your nose, mixed with tobacco and you had to smile, because you associate this scent with many, beautiful memories; but also bittersweet moments…

"Please… Javier, look at me…"

And he looked at you, his eyes reflecting the restlessness and guilt in his soul.

"I don't know where your paths have led you, Javier. But I can see that you have regretted the decision you made back then."

Javier sighed softly, unable to answer anything, but his eyes held your gaze and by God he was glad you didn't loathe him.

"I live in Strawberry, Javier. When…when you're ready for it one day, come and see me. I'll be waiting for you there."

His eyes immediately moved to your hand to see if you were wearing a wedding ring. His relief was great, because he couldn't see anything.

You tell him exactly where you live and to what address he should send letters to contact you. Hoping that he would do so.

When the signal sounded for the train's departure, you were jolted out of your trance.

"This is my train, Javier. I have to go now…"

"Okay…"

That was all he said in response. He held back a lot, because he would have loved to pull you tightly into his arms, not to let you go again. But he didn't. And part of you hoped he wouldn't let you go. Still, maybe that was too much to ask of you.

"Will you walk me to the train, Javi?"

Javi… that's what you had always called him, and this was the first time in years that you saw him smile. It was a small, dainty smile, but it was there. Javier led you to the platform, his hand was on your lower back and your body was tingling like crazy. This little touch, this little gesture, excited you deeply. It was still the man you desired, the man you loved.

"You should… get in. It's about to leave…"

"I know, Javi…"

But you would have preferred to stay with him. Your hope now was that he would seek you out…

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #fanfiction #javier escuella #javier escuella x female reader #y/n reader #javier escuella x y/n reader #romance #angst #break up #my fanfiction #heartbreak #tears #hints of depression! #saint denis #rdr fandom

[deejadabbles]

Echo and Comms (Echo x Reader) Chapter Three

Summary: Who could know that a simple night out with your friend would lead to this? A life of danger and the man of your dreams. Echo x Communications Officer Reader (gender neutral). Friends to lovers/star-crossed lovers. A.N: First off I would like say I'm so sorry (!!!) this took so long to get out to anyone interested in this series! If I'm being blunt, I've been feeling rather discouraged over my Echo content. But, I still adore this man and have so many ideas on where to take this series, so, thank you to everyone who shows interest in this story! I appreciate the reblogs and comments so much! Secondly, the emotions of this chapter got away from me and before I knew it I was 3k words deep, so I'm warning you now that this is a heavy chapter, but I promise the sweet reunion and happy times are coming! I promise Word count: 3,814 Songs for listening: What Hurts the Most and Experience . Warnings: mentions and explorations of grief/loss, mentions of drinking as a coping mechanism, very heavy topics in general.

Part One /// Part Two /// Part Three /// [Part Four coming soon]

There was nothing to mourn.

That’s the reality that hit you hardest.

The clones gave everything to the republic, to the people, to the war, and they got nothing in return. You had always known that, of course. The debate of clone rights and personhood was always a raring topic since the start of the war, not that the question of their rights should be a debate at all. You had always known they were dealt a shitty hand in life, but it was never more apparent than now.

Now that there was nothing of your sweet, brave Echo to mourn.

There was no funeral, no last rites, no medals or flags given in his honor, not even a damn word of thanks for his sacrifice. His brothers would grieve for him, of course, perhaps the Jedi who had led him too, Echo had always spoken fondly of Skywalker, after all, but his brothers had no means to mourn. Not really. And no other family could offer you their shoulder, no mother or father, no one but soldiers who weren’t allowed to wear their sorrows on their sleeves.

There was nothing of Echo’s to mourn, nothing but the messages and pictures he had sent you.

They were the only proof of his existence, of his memory. That he wasn’t another number, that he was sweet and charming and smart, that he was awkward and rule-following and so damn caring. He had worried so much about his brothers, about them being remembered, and now, these communications were the only remembrance of him, of your Echo.

Eventually, you had to force yourself to stop looking them over for hours every night. Stop yourself from hoping that you would get one last comm from him. One last picture of his dorky smile, of him and Fives causing havoc. One last call to tell you he missed you, to tell you he loved you. 

Echo had loved you. 

And you, oh, how you had loved him too. You had fallen for him fast and hard, and now this pain was the unyielding ground at the end of that fall.

Work was your only solace. Work was an escape, a place where your mind couldn’t wander, couldn’t focus on the grief, couldn’t muse over your loss, your work was too important for that.

Mavis was your anchor, she gave you space and distractions in a good balance. Space to be alone so you weren’t just cramming your feelings in a box all day, and distractions when she knew you needed something that wasn’t work or grief. 

You weren’t proud of the way you were careless with your drinks at the bar on those nights, but somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care most of the time.

Days turned into weeks. The war stretched on, and death tolls rolled in every day, just numbers, faceless, dehumanized numbers. Just like your Echo.

Weeks turned into months. Work continued, a decryption there, a few lives saved here, small victories, victories that helped your pain. Each one was for your Echo now.

You had always taken pride in your work, pride in doing your part to ease this war, to win battles, but now this was just an extra layer of it, pride that you could help the brothers he had held so dear. It helped, and those around you started to notice. 

Eventually, it got easier to smile throughout the day, and you started to feel less guilty over that ease. Though, you still couldn’t crack jokes quite like you used to. At some point, your trips to the bar became less about drowning your sorrow and more about spending time with friends. Though, you still recoiled every time someone tried to flirt with you.

You hoped that things could get better.

The trouble was that no one told you that hope was a dangerous thing.

A sigh pushed itself past your teeth as you leaned back, rubbing your eyes to wash away the imprint of data streams behind your lids. Just a few more hours and you could go to that nice dinner Mavis had invited you to. It was a decent day, and you felt like eating.

The break from your work must have caught attention because someone cleared their throat beside you. Moving only one hand, you cracked an eye open toward the noise. It was Taan, a young and brilliant decrypter who had been placed under your care until he learned the ropes enough to work on his own. He was holding his data pad with a question burning in his eyes.

“Yeah, kid?” you asked, fighting a yawn.

“Do you have a minute to look something over?”

Silently, you sat upright again and waved him forward, letting your other hand drop.

He paused for just a moment, thought, then must have decided it was now or never, “Do you remember last week, when we decrypted that resource update?”

“You mean the one from the techno union, advertising their fancy new battle tactic algorithm?”

“Yeah, that one! See, I was taking another look at it, and…something doesn’t fit. It bothered me the first time we looked at it, but we were too busy relaying the new information to command for me to think about at the time, but now I looked it over again and…” Fingers tapped on the underside of the data pad as he bit his lip, then he shoved it towards you, “here just look for yourself, look at the developer signatures.”

You did as asked, eyes going to the bottom of the page where the techno union had listed the people involved with creating the algorithm. If you weren’t so used to decoding the various numeric-heavy code names those tech creeps used, it would have looked like gibberish. Wat Tambor’s was the only code name you had memorized and without your key, you weren’t sure who the others were….expect.

Your chair gave a creak as you jolted forward, a little shocked.

“See it?” Taan was trying to contain his excitement at your reaction, obviously glad he wasn’t going crazy. 

He wasn’t. There, right in the middle of the long list of contributors, was a strange name, not coded like the rest. ‘T1b3r’ It only had two numbers, unlike the others, meaning it had to be using a different cipher. Among the dozen confusing names, it was easy to miss.

Your mind was working overtime and you didn’t answer the kid quite yet as you pulled your chair back to your workstation, fingers dancing away at your desk unit. That didn’t stop Taan from rambling in your silence.

“I ran it through our other keys but it still didn’t make any sense, then I thought, maybe this guy’s using a whole new code we haven’t cracked yet? But in that case, why? Like why sign your contribution and make it harder to recognize your name and-”

“That’s because it’s not encoded at all,” you offered, “or at least, not a complicated code.”

“Huh?”

“You play Alderaan Gambit at all, kid?”

Taan hummed, “You mean that weird, over-complicated version of holochess? No, not really.”

Since your quick search on the net confirmed your suspicions, you leaned back in your chair again, “Well, one of the elements of the game is capturing each other’s pieces and holding them behind your ‘enemy line’ so to speak. The pieces aren’t just removed from play, they stay on the board and there are all kinds of strategies players can use to win the game with them. You know what those captured pieces are called?”

He shook his head.

“Tibers.”

Taan’s eyes went wide, “T1b3r!” he snatched his datapad back from your hands, “So… you don’t think that…?”

You hesitated, pulling your lip between your teeth, “That one of our own is being used behind enemy lines? Yeah…maybe.”

A fist slammed against your desk, nearly hitting your keyboard, and a growl pushed its way through your teeth. It was late, much later than you usually stayed, and well past your shift. You had told Taan to go home hours ago, insisting that you could wait for the response alone. 

After your litter discovery, you sent it up the chain of command and leveraged your reputation to get the report marked as a priority. You knew there was a chance that, even if they did look it over today, that they may not see what the two of you saw.

The response to your report was clear: there wasn’t enough evidence to warrant further investigation.

If you weren’t running on so little sleep and half blind from staring at the screen of your desk unit for 12 hours, you might have been able to see their point. It was, admittedly, a weak connection. There were countless languages and cultures in the galaxy, so even if the code name was meant to spell out ‘Tiber’ there was little reason to think it was in reference to a strategy game and not just a birth-given name.

But still, something just didn’t sit right with you. Something was off, you could feel it in your gut, and after years of trusting your gut to stay alive, you weren’t in the habit of ignoring it.

You rubbed the corners of your tired eyes, hoping to alleviate the pressure growing there. The supervisors weren’t any help to you now, but you weren’t ready to let this go just yet. You just had to think- think of who you could go to for another opinion!

After a moment, your head jerked back up, eyes still stinging as they met your holoscreen again. A quick search in the GAR records would give you your answer, they kept close track of what battalion was where at any given moment. It was serendipitous, or maybe it was fate telling you that you were right to push this further, either way, you practically lept from your chair when you saw that the 501st were currently on Coruscant.

Even if you could let this go until tomorrow (which you couldn’t), you had to go to them tonight, they were shipping out for Ringo Vinda in the morning to aid General’s Tiplee and Tiplar.

You were already clocking out with the Corrie guards on duty before you realized you weren’t even sure who to contact or how. A part of you felt like you knew the men of the 501st, especially Torrent company. 

The number of times Echo had talked about them, all the pictures he sent, the videos he recorded of their antics, they felt like old friends. Echo had wanted you to meet them all, mentioned all the time of plans for you to join his brothers on shore leave the next time they came home. A chance you two never got.

There was a sudden shake of your head as if that could brush the spiraling thoughts away. You had to focus, this wasn’t about your lost chances.

You thought about asking Mavis for Fives’ comm code, but that felt a little trange. So, instead, you checked the time and, when you realized drinking hours were just starting, you headed for your speeder bike.

You hadn’t been back to 79’s since the night you met Echo. When you two were together, it was simply because there were other bars you and your friends preferred more and now that he was gone, no one even dared mention the name of the place.

It wasn’t nearly as hard to walk in as you thought it would be. Though, that was mostly due to the fact that you were avoiding looking at any of the patrons in armor for too long. That wouldn’t last forever, of course, the whole reason you were here was to talk to someone who had the same face as him.

There wasn’t much wandering needed before you spotted a group in blue, downing shots and making a general ruckus at the bar. You recognized the large tattoo on one of them and actually smiled to yourself. A picture came to the surface of your mind, one with three of Echo’s brothers standing in a smoke-filled kitchen. The corner of Echo’s laughing face had been beside the caption: ‘They were betting on who the better cook was. They all lost’.

Again you had to tamp down the feelings welling up inside and once you had, you marched to the bar. You tapped on the armored shoulder, just before he grabbed another shot.

When he looked over his shoulder at you, you said, “Are you Jesse?”

He arched an eyebrow, then turned to face you fully, eyes scanning up and down, “Hey, you aren’t a clone.”

“Observant one, aren’t you?”

That made him smirk, “Just not used to seeing natborns in those uniforms- but yeah, I’m Jesse, what’s your name, hot lips?”

You opened your mouth, but it wasn’t your voice that called your name, instead, a hand gripped your shoulder and you turned to see Fives with concern written on his face. The moment you saw him, something that wasn’t there when you looked at Jesse gripped your heart, but like the other emotions, you swallowed it.

“Fives, is your captain here? I need to speak with Rex.”

His eyes narrowed, “Rex? Why?”

You hesitated, and the moment you did, Fives handed his drink off to someone else and guided you away from the heart of the ruckus (leaving Jesse ignored and a little bewildered).

“I just need to talk to him. Something was brought to my attention at work today and I think he might be able to help me.”

Again, Fives just stared at you, but when you only answered him with a hard stare, he sighed. “Rex is having a drink with Commander Bly,” he jabbed his thumb towards a two-seat table near the corner. Before you could shove past him, however, his grip on your arm tightened a bit. “Hey- just hold on a sec, will you? Can I at least ask how you’re doing?”

You didn’t miss the way he tried to duck into your vision, to lock his gaze with the eyes that were avoiding him. It wasn’t his fault, the emotion welling up inside, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Fives was just too wrapped up in everything that reminded you of him.

But, he still deserved an answer.

“I’m…better. Things aren’t perfect, but,” with a calming breath, you looked up as close to his eyes as possible, focusing on all the little details of his face that distinguished him from Echo. “But they’re better.”

You knew he was staring at you still, maybe searching your face, maybe looking for signs of a lie or cover-up. After a moment, though, he sighed and straightened up. “Alright. Hey, before you leave, tell me, I’ll walk you home, okay?”

A smile flickered across your lips, Fives really was sweet, despite his playboy bravado. After giving his arm a gentle squeeze, you moved past him toward where Rex and his friend sat. As if by fate, the other man, Bly, got up before you closed in, heading for the bar for another round.

Rex’s gaze flicked up from his empty glass when he caught your movement in the corner of his eye.

“Captain Rex?”

“Yes, may I help you?” he asked, looking you over.

You held your hand out, and when you gave your name, his eyes widened. So, he did know of you. That made sense, Echo once said that he ‘bragged’ about you every chance he got, even to his captain. Before Rex could say anything, however, you got to business, “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, Captain, but I need your help with something, do you have a moment?”

Rex didn’t hesitate, after casting a eyes to the bar and sharing a look with someone, presumably his friend, he waved for you to take a seat.

“Did you receive the report on the Techno Union’s new battle algorithm?” you asked once settled in the seat. He nodded, and so, you explained your situation, your theory, and what brought you to it, and how the higher-ups didn’t think it important enough to investigate. 

When you finished, Rex continued to stare at you for a moment, then, “Alright, so why have you come to me?”

“Because I-” you paused, mind faltering. You had a reason, of course you did, but how to put it? Your eyes dropped to the table for a moment, you thought, then darted your gaze back up to his with a sign, “Maybe I just want to know if I’m wasting my time. Captain, do you think a trooper would send a message like that? Or am I drawing conclusions where there aren’t any?”

For a moment, all Rex did was stare back at you, maybe mulling over his answer, maybe considering you, personally. Maybe both. “I mean, it’s possible. Anything is, I suppose. It would have to be a clone with advanced training, like a commando, or an ARC, and of course, to even know the reference to a tiber piece, they’d have to be familiar with Alderaan Gambit in the first-”

Rex cut himself off, mouth clapping shut and eyes going wide again.

That’s when it hit you too.

“Echo,” you breathed, mind connecting this line and that rapidly. “Why didn’t I think of it before?” Something warm flickered in your chest, something small but blooming as you thought over the possibility of your beloved. 

Hope. It was a spark of hope. 

Your rambling continued as the blanks filled themselves in, “Echo used to talk about how he played Alderaan Gambit with- with you, Rex! How you used to come up with battle strategies together while playing. If he was captured, maybe they realized his strategic skills, and now-!”

The spark was fanning itself by this point.

“Now he’s trapped, somehow forced to help their own battle strategies. But he’s too smart to let them get away with it.”

“Stop.”

“And not to mention his ARC training would include advanced splicing, which he’d need to hack into their reports to alter them. He would have all the skills to send us a message. And he would-”

“Stop!”

The sharp firmness of Rex’s tone caught you off guard, words fumbling in your mouth as your mind came to a screeching halt. When your eyes snapped up to his, a hard expression that had taken over his features. It softened a little, but his gaze said it all and you felt oddly chastised under it. 

Echo is gone. Echo is dead.

That spark in your chest dimmed.

Then, Rex sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t do that to yourself, little one. Believe me.” He paused for a moment, perhaps thinking, maybe collecting himself. “You can’t… hold on to the dead. It will tear you up inside more than anything. More than the loss, more than the grief, even the memories. Holding on will hurt you most in the end.” 

The hand tightened a little, almost affectionate, almost… paternal. His eyes were soft and full of years of hard-earned experience. Years of his own grief, of his own loss.

“Echo wouldn’t want that for you. He would want you to let him go, so you can heal.” Rex let his hand fall, gaze fixed on his drink again and you found that you were swallowing a sour taste in your throat. “We all have to move on. It’s the only way we can survive.”

The lining of sorrow in his words was the water that doused the remainder of that spark. Hope melted away like snow on skin and it stung just the same.

Again you found yourself choking on something in your throat; the bitterness of rising tears.

The way Rex kept his eyes unfocused on his hands said all that needed to be said, so you stood rather abruptly. “I’m sorry for taking up your time, Captain. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

You thought he might have tilted his head back up to you as you turned to leave, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Besides that, he didn’t say or do anything as you walked away. There was a ringing in your ears as you went, and suddenly, wading through the crowd of patrons made your skin feel like it was on fire.

Everything was too loud now, the music pressing in on your ears, the lights burning your eyes. You felt dizzy as something else stung your eyes, that sour taste thickening in your throat as you burst through the doors. The stale city air did little to calm you, and you found yourself staggering to the side, trying to find any sort of privacy as your chest clawed itself with pain.

You had just ducked behind a row of speeder bikes when the tears broke free, a sob ripping your throat apart from the effort of holding it in. The sound bounced off the side of the building and echoed down the alley, just as the tears soaked into the permacrete without a care. 

The grief that had gotten better rolled over you like a tidal wave. Once again it pulled you under as if you hadn’t made any progress at all.

How could you be so stupid? How could you think that he was alive, that he had defied all odds and sent you some secret message? This wasn’t some romance novel, love and hope couldn’t change reality. Death didn’t just reverse because you begged it to. Stupid stupid stupid-

Once again your mind stalled as arms, warm and gentle, closed around you. Someone guided you to sit, calling your name so softly you almost couldn’t hear it over your own ragging thoughts. A hand tucked you close to an armored chest as they started a slow rocking motion with your bodies.

Stunned, you looked up past the armor and through the tears to find the kindest brown eyes you had seen since your last call with Echo.

“It’s alright, vod’ika,” he whispered, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Fives tucked your head under his chin, still rocking you as he rubbed your back and repeated his assurances.

The waves came again with a vengeance and this time, you let it happen. You curled into his embrace and wept, tears and sobs coming without restraint. It didn’t matter how long you two sat there like that, Fives held you the entire time. It didn’t matter that he was shipping out in the morning, he spent his night comforting you through every moment of the reopening wounds.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It hadn’t been a spark inside you, it had been a fire. 

And you know what they say about fire.

Tag List: @blueink-bluesoul @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @commander-sunshine @dystopicjumpsuit @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @arcsimper5 @littlemissmanga @wings-and-beskar @clonemedickix

#if any one notices the different style of the header for this chapter just know it was intentional #I'm trying to be poetic or something lol #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x reader #tbb echo x reader #arc trooper echo x you #echo x you #echo reader insert #series: echo and comms #deeja writes

[incorrect-nevermore]

Alright what are everyone’s dumb modern au head cannons, I’ll go first-

•The misfits go everywhere in either, one of Lenore’s father’s really fancy expensive cars, that Lenore keeps stealing, (she would take Theo’s but he loves that thing to death and won’t let anyone else drive it, and he always knows if Lenore’s taken it out cause the mirrors been adjusted or something) Or duke’s Toyota, he takes good care of it, but the things old and pretty beat up but that does not prevent them from drag-racing it across empty roads and doing donuts in parking lots.

• Do not let Eulalie drive, just don’t, only duke and Lenore actually know how to drive and are usually the ones to do so, but every now and again someone else drives, either cause their both too tired or too drunk to, but whoever ends up behind the wheel it should not be Eulalie, that woman drives like she’s running from the cops.

•‘Cause Theo’s alive and well and hysteria isn’t a thing anymore, Lenore’s family is still in the picture. The first of one of the misfits to have an encounter with Lenore’s family is Berenice, when she’s sneaking out of Lenore’s bedroom after a movie night. Lenore’s mother opens the door to see this random girl that looks like she belongs in a 1920’s skit, one foot out of her daughter’s bedroom window at 2am and just goes “😐”.

Lenore: Mother, I can explain-

Her mom: I thought you were interested in that Annabel lee?

Lenore: ITS NOT LIKE THAT-!

Meanwhile Berenice manages to awkwardly, sneak out the window between their arguing.

Berenice: Babe, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but when I saw your ma’ standing in the hallway I mistook her for a Victorian ghost.

• Lenore and Annabel meet in way similar to Cannon, Annabel’s father wanted to be close with Lenore’s father, though not to marry her off, to have help setting up business in New York, and sent Annabel off to go make nice with his son, and if things went well, he’d have a new esteemed business partner and possibly candidate for a son in law, lo and behold one day when Theo and Annabel are having tea in garden or something, Lenore walks in and Annabel goes “😳 Well, I don’t see any down sides to making nice with both siblings.” And things go from there.

• Theo bullies Lenore about Annabel but is also her ultimate wingman

• The misfits constantly bother Lenore about her ✨richness✨ and technically being an heiress.

“Sorry, guys can’t tonight, my father’s making me attend this dumb party-“

“Ooooh! Forgive us lowly commoners for dwelling into your affairs, your grace! But for what reason has the lord arranged this extravagant event?”

“Duke, come on, man.”

•Lenore and Annabel’s fathers are both pretty homophobic, like angrily, staring and scoffing at gay couples in public kinda homophobic, Lenore’s mom is also kinda homophobic but like in the way of

“It’s just a phase, why! Even I used to share kisses with my lady friends back in the day.”

Lenore: You what.

• Both the groups still have a rivalry thing going on at the academy, but it’s much more chill here, cause there’s nothing like a second life to be competing with each other over. Lenore and Annabel still pretend to kinda of dislike each other for… reasons, but again much less intense than in Cannon.

•M*****r does unfortunately still go to the academy but he doesn’t show up the majority of the time, and he ain’t a part of Annabel’s group, he’s just as ass that shows up at parties sometimes. Will is still a part of the group, and he doesn’t really hang out with goat boy, the most he does is say hi to him sometimes.

•Ada has much more self confidence and sometimes goes to hang with Lenore’s gang with Morella, because she deserves it. She still is quite insecure unfortunately cause she’s like lower middle class in this school full of rich kids, but she’ll be fine.

•Ada also came in to the academy a little bit homophobic cause ✨self hate💕, she quickly unlearns that tho.

•Lenore. Has. Options. Like a quarter of the girls at the academy have tried to shoot their shot, with unsurprisingly little luck, only thing they’ve gotten out of it is a death stare from Annabel.

•Eulalie has dragged everyone out at midnight to try and summon/communicate with a spirit on more then one occasion.

• They all get together and play cards against humanity, and every drinking game know to mankind

“ Whoever has the worst taste in men has to take a shot”

Lenore: Ada.

Berenice: Ada!

Duke: It’s Ada.

Ada, pouring a shot: Yeah, I used to be into Prospero, I really can’t defend myself on this one.

Prospero: Excuse me!

“Anyone who’s kissed the same sex takes a sip of their drink”

Berenice: Pfff- uhh?

Duke: Should we all just take a sip on this one?

Annabel: I HAVN’T- ahem. I have not kissed another woman.

Lenore: ..Really?

Annabel: Really, pet.

…

Prospero: I haven’t kissed a man either-

Berenice: Right. Now, you guys are just fuckin’ lyin’.

•Lenore takes Italian, she and Prospero will sometimes stop in the middle of the hallway just to insult each other in Italian then keep walking.

•Theo gose in to Lenore’s room sometimes, sees Annabel’s things just lying around and it just hits him that oh my lord my little sister has a girlfriend- and he needs to lay down before his legs give out, even tho he’s literally been trying to get them together.

Theo: Wake up!

Lenore: I’m coming, go away!

Theo: Not until you get out here!

Lenore, coming out: Happy?

Theo: very much so, come on we need to-

Annabel, also coming out of Lenore’s room: Good morning..?

Theo: *goes into an existential crisis*

Annabel: Um, hello?

Lenore: Oh, great we broke him.

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #incorrect quotes #incorrect nevermore quotes #annabel lee nevermore #annabel lee x lenore #duke nevermore #white raven #modern au

[8zult]

what is sereshaw doing right now? #5

Christmas morning with Jake’s family. They are tiredly drinking coffee while watching everyone tear open gifts. One of Jake’s little cousins placed a wrapped box on Bradley’s lap while going “Merry Christmas, Rooster” and he smiled really big while saying “Thank you”. Jake watched and his heart fluttered and flipped and he wanted to kiss him right in front of everyone for being so cute but he restricted himself and let him open up his gift. It was from Jake’s mother and it was a scrapbook. Written on the front of the maroon cover with very neat handwriting was “Jake and Bradley”. He opened it and glued to the pages was pictures of them. They had been dating for only a little over a year now and didn’t have many pictures together but Mrs. Seresin filled up the pages good. Some were pictures of the two of them together while others were candid shots of Bradley. Next to the pictures were pretty stickers and corny (but lovely) quotes. Next to the some of the random pictures of Bradley, printed text messages were glued to the page.

“Ma, why’d you-“ Jake started, but just decided to cover his face in embarrassment.

“It took me and your father a half hour to figure out how to transfer the screenshots onto the computer to print. Some were sent to me by your buddies”

Jake made a mental note to tear Javy, Phoenix, and the others a new one later.

Bradley was hardly paying attention though, flipping through the pages and reading the quotes and the messages. Underneath each picture was the date it was taken and he couldn’t believe he had forgotten so many of these moments. He turned another page and it was blank. He looked up, confused, “Ran out of pictures?”

Jake’s mom nodded, “But I decided to leave it like that. Maybe you can add some on your own. Scrapbooking is very relaxing.”

Bradley smiled, “I believe you. I honestly don’t trust myself doing it on my own, ruining your hard work and all. Maybe I’ll just collect a bunch of stuff to put in it and when we visit, we take some time to work on it together”

“I’d like that very much, honey,” Mrs. Seresin moved from her spot on the couch over to where Jake and Bradley were sitting on the floor and leaned down to pull him into a hug.

“Already have a new one to add!” Jake’s sister shouted, holding up her phone and smirking.

Bradley laughed while Jake sighed, “See what you guys did. Now Roo thinks I have a crush on him or something.”

He simply responded with pushing Jake away from him.

#why’d this turn into a fanfic? #im sorry #top gun maverick #sereshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangman #hangster #jake hangman seresin #rooster #jake seresin #also sorry for typos bro i didnt even plan on writing this I winged it

[sl-newsie]

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 14: Unexpected

This time when I enter Q’s apartment it feels normal instead of having to hide here. It’s a shame Moneypenny can’t join us but the crowd of 3 cats welcoming us is enough to make up for that.

“Sit down and relax. I’ll start the meat.” Q waves me over to the couch and then goes about pulling out beef and all kinds of vegetables.

“No, no. You’ve been through Hell tonight. The least I can do is help chop something.” I walk over to stand at the island counter. “Being a 00 agent has taught me plenty of skills with a knife. Maybe I can put them to another use besides stabbing people.”

Q laughs and brings over some celery. “If you insist. I’ll- Um. Would you like a new shirt?”

His question draws me to look down at my ragged uniform with a hole still ripping through. “Do you mind?”

He shakes his head and goes for the stairs. “Not at all. Wait right here.”

While he’s gone I bend down to pet the needy cats. Cricket takes the liberty to hop up on my shoulder while the other two climb onto my lap. Who says I need a therapist? Cats are far superior to any help a person could give.

“This is the closest- Oh!” Q stops in his tracks when he sees the pile of fur I’m trapped under. “I see you’re occupied.”

“You can’t invent this kind of love,” I chuckle as I lift the happy felines off me and carry them to the couch. “Maybe when I’m old and gray then I’ll retire to a cat café.”

Q strides up behind me holding a gray sweater. “This is the closest thing that fits your size. Sorry if it’s not as colorful as you’re used to.”

“Anything is appreciated, Q. Thank you.” 

I take the garment and tear off my tattered shirt, noticing Q takes this moment to busy himself with preparing the meat. I appreciate his modesty but I don’t see a reason to be so. He’s seen me with only a bra and boxers, so what’s the difference? Ignoring this I give one last scratch to Cricket’s ears when I spot a picture frame of Q’s family. There’s unmistakable resemblance between Q and a man I’m assuming is his father. Same lanky build, crazy dark hair, and wild eyes. His mother has the same kind expression. I also see he has two sisters.

“I didn’t know you had siblings,” I comment out loud.

Q looks up from where he’s working. “Yes. That’s Clarice and Alice. That was taken before I joined MI6. By now they’re both married.” His face grows stern and he returns to pounding the meat. “Unfortunately I was not invited to attend the celebrations.”

This intrigues me. “Why’s that? Are they mad at you?”

“In a way, yes. Partially it’s my fault. Since I’m part of such a top-secret government program I’m not allowed to communicate with my family on a daily basis. When I joined they said I was ignoring my family just for a big paycheck.”

They thought…? I can’t believe this!

“Well they’re wrong,” I say stubbornly. “They should be proud.”

Q grunts and hastily washes his hands looking more stressed. “They’re partially right. But I’m not abandoning them for a paycheck. I was doing it to make them proud, but now I know I signed my life away until I decide to retire.”

I frown. “Q, you don’t always have to, what’s a good way to put it? Stress to impress. You already do that without trying. Your inventions are magnificent!”

“It’s not just inventing,” Q goes on to explain and walks over next to me to point at his two sisters. “My family is also disappointed that I’m not striving to copy my sisters and start my own family.”

It’s sad that Q disagrees but at the same time I can’t ignore my own thoughts. I turn and place a calm hand over Q’s.

“At least you could if you wanted to. Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan out a life as a 00 agent? Every time I’m sent on an assignment I’m expected to die.”

Q flinches a bit at my touch but keeps a stiff face. “I couldn’t. In my line of work being Quartermaster is my top priority despite others’ disapproval. No one would be willing to put up with my schedule.”

So that’s his problem? He’s sad because he can’t find a date? Why didn’t he just say that?

“Q, anyone should be thankful to be in your life. But not just anyone. You deserve someone who respects your judgment and your position as Quartermaster, and won’t pressure you into something.” I’ll admit I’m a tad crushed that he’ll be looking for a relationship with someone else but I can’t be selfish and discourage him. “If you ever need any help I could always scout around for any suitable candidates.”

By now Q’s grip is all but squeezing the blood out of my hand. His head is shaking, almost as if he’s about to explode, and he keeps staring at me.

“I don’t think you should stay here tonight.”

His words grasp my heart and tear it into a million pieces. My whole body freezes and all I can do is repeat Bond’s words in my head: do whatever it takes to make the enemy lower their guard. But Q isn’t playing me, he’s sincere. He really wants me to leave and head into the dark streets; maybe to be snuffed out by a street mugger. 

“After all you’ve talked about me being reckless, wanting to do everything by the book, this is very hypocritical of you.” I pull my hand away and go for the door. “If you wanted me dead you could’ve just pulled the trigger yourself.”

Q groans and, before I know what’s happening, grips my shoulders to make me face him.

“I don’t want you dead, Levie. I don’t think you should stay here because I want to keep things professional.” He used my nickname. 

I frown. “‘Professional?’ Is there some clause or something against coworkers meeting after hours?”

Q, still gripping my shoulders, hangs his head in frustration. “No. I’m afraid that if you stay then I’ll do something I might regret.”

This only confuses me more. Is he planning to kill me? “I don’t understand-”

“Oh for God’s sake!”

Q cups my face and does the very last thing I’d ever think he’s possible of. He kisses me.

I’ve only been kissed a few times throughout my life. All during missions, nothing serious. This kiss towers above all romantic gestures I’ve demonstrated. It’s desperate and sweet. I don’t even notice my hands snaking up to grip Q’s hair until he moans in response. This makes him go stiff and abruptly pull away, his eyes wide and worried.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to- Well, I did want to- But we can’t- I’m not- Ugh. You must think I’m a joke.”

I take another deep breath and lean over to catch Q’s lips again. Now I’ve got him pinned on the couch and he seems to melt under me.

“Q, that was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I say as I press kisses down his neck, gripping his tie. “You are anything but a joke. I never even thought you’d care about someone like this.”

His eyes never leave me as he pants to catch his breath, wrapping his arms around me. “I never intended to have romantic intentions with a coworker. But with you it- It just sort of… happened. You’re- you’re not upset?”

“Why would I be? I may not know what love is yet, but if it’s what I feel whenever I see you then I don’t want to give it up.” 

My answer sparks excitement in Q. But why is he shaking his head?

“I’m not a perfect man. You should find someone else.”

This will not do. I set my face straight. “You’re perfect to me, Q. You shouldn’t sell yourself short.” I add a smirk. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Q smiles appreciatively and kisses my cheek, then whispers: “You know, it always makes me jealous when I see you flirting with other men. I know it’s your job but I still can’t help it.”

I lift my eyes to his chocolate ones. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He grins. “Been keeping secrets from your Quartermaster, have you?”

“I think of you.” Q’s eyebrows raise. “Every time I have to flirt, I always think of you. Because a part of me wishes it was you I was flirting with, and that it somehow could be real.”

Q gets off the couch, kneels in front of me, and takes my hand. “This is real, I assure you.”

This is real. Is this what I’ve been missing? Maybe I should take a better look at how I want to live my life and stop putting off the future. After all, Q is a good man. One who I think will make me happy. But happiness can always be taken away. A new thought surfaces and makes my happy emotions fade. “The only regret I’d have is if my feelings for you put you in danger. It’s happened to Bond, it could happen to me too.”

Q nods, yet is unfazed by the idea. He presses a kiss to my forehead and leans his forehead against mine.

“I’m very well aware of the risks of this job, Levie. We don’t have to jump into this right away. We can test the waters and see if it’s safe. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Likewise. I know you’re not the most emotional person and I’m trained to block out emotions, so we should each get a feel of where we stand.” Fighting against the urge to keep lying with him I sit up in an attempt to make the conversation more professional. “Where exactly do you intend for this relationship to go?”

Q mirrors my posture and gets a deep thinking look. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to keep this confidential to the workplace. Not just for safety but to also avoid the drama that will come with it. You know M won’t be entirely open to it.”

I nod. “Agreed. I don’t wish for M to think I’ve gone soft or else he’ll pull me from missions. You already know I’m not one for desk work, and I don’t plan on retiring anytime soon.”

Q copies my nod and jumps up to go tend to the vegetables in the frying pan. Once the meal is done he portions it out onto 2 plates and sets them on the kitchen table. We both sit and eat in a new comfortable silence; each of us coming to terms with what just happened.

“I’m curious. Everyone only calls you 0011 or Levie. Why is that?”

It makes my heart hum to know that Q is eager to use real names. I just wish I had one to give him.

“I have no real name.”

He tilts his head. “Really? You must have a name.”

Giving a dark chuckle, I take another bite of beef. “You should know why, Q. When I was assigned to you M gave you my file. If you did your research correctly, which I know for a fact you did, you read that my father was a Brit who knocked up an American woman, who dropped me off at M16 the day I turned 16.” Another bite. “Not as dramatic as Bond’s past. It’s nice actually, not having to worry about family getting in the way. I never knew my last name because my mother homeschooled me. She was too embarrassed to have a child out of wedlock so she kept me home. She never gave me a real name, only called me ‘girl’ or ‘child.’” I take a deep breath and turn my face up to meet Q’s eyes. “The day I joined MI6 was the day I finally got my freedom. I don’t need a name.”

The whole time Q’s been listening respectfully. Now he grabs my hand. “I did read your file. I just wanted to hear your story from you. Would you like a name?”

“Do you have one?”

“I do, actually. I was Geoffrey Boothroyd before I joined.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “We don’t have to use names if you don’t want to.”

After thinking a second a new idea surfaces. “Could you give me a name? We could use them during times out-of-office.”

Q’s eyes light up. “O-Ok! Um, hm… Let’s see…” He puts a finger to his chin and looks me up and down, making me feel like a test subject. “I like… Eleanor. How’s that sound?”

I- I straight up love it. It sounds powerful and elegant, it sounds… me. And the fact that Q is giving it to me makes it even better.

“Thank you, Geoffrey. That name sounds perfect!” I throw my arms around his neck and give him a deep kiss.

“Y-You’re welcome,” he stutters. “It’s strange hearing my name after all these years. It sounds good coming from you.”

I start to respond but get stopped by a yawn. Q laughs at this and moves to clear the dishes.

“I’m not tired! I can help-!”

Q cuts me off with a kiss. “Work can wait ‘til tomorrow. Right now you need rest. Ok?”

“You’ll be upstairs?”

He nods and sets the dishes in the sink, switching the kitchen light off once he’s finished. “I’m doing the gentlemanly thing and giving you your privacy.”

“Aw. That’s sweet. Thanks.” 

“Goodnight, Eleanor. If you need anything just call.”

Q gives me one final kiss on the head and climbs the stairs. How did my entire life change in the span of 15 minutes? Life’s never given me what I want and now I have everything. Focus, 0011. You can’t jump head-first into something like this. For all I know this could turn into the type of heartbreak Bond’s always going on about. I can’t let my emotions get in the way, no matter how ensnaring it is to think about having a somewhat normal life with Q.

The darkness is too taunting and I feel myself slipping into sleep once again, only this time I’m much more relaxed. Tonight’s events have left me exhausted but I know I’m safe now. No matter what criminals try to kill me tonight I know Q will have their heads before they can reach the door.

#quartermaster x reader #quartermaster #q x reader #james bond #daniel craig #ben whishaw #skyfall #spectre #no time to die #007 #james bond 007

[mangoshorthand]

No Hard Feelings- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch8

SUMMARY: You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. Funny how what we want and what we need are rarely in line. (Five's physically aged up). Obvious smut warning but there's plot too, I swear! Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five- Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

In this chapter: After a fraught previous evening, it seems like a normal workday.

Work drama and romantic dinners below. Proceed at your own risk.

Chapter 8: Dinner With Miss Jane

Charlie is not, in fact, your superior; you are both Senior Account Managers. Despite this, he has a tendency to behave as if this isn’t the case

This morning, you arrived at the office with a double espresso in hand, trying to stave off the symptoms of the broken sleep you got last night. Your mood was not improved by a message from your boss, Joe.

Hi, Charlie said you wanted to grow your client portfolio so he sent over some of his end-of-lifers for me to pass on: mostly >10k contracts but if you can get them to renew it would be great experience!

Either Joseph is an idiot or doing a very good impression of it. Charlie has essentially dumped his no-hope clients on you so that it doesn’t affect his team’s metrics when they eventually drop off the books at the end of the quarter. You seethe for the barest of moments before an idea strikes: you’ve got the capacity…why not make this backfire? After many false starts, you message him back:

Good morning Joe, thanks for this. I know Charlie can struggle with converting clients so my team can donate capacity and take these on.

Is this petty and passive aggressive? Yes. Yes it is. You get to work, furiously, schmoozing the new clients with a vengeance, hatred for Charlie fuelling your skills. It's a good distraction too- if it were just a normal day, you might spend it brooding over Five. You've kept his note about your TV. You keep scolding yourself for the sentimental weakness but you couldn't bring yourself to dispose of it: something told you it might be the last you see of him.

Mike and the investigator sit in the darkened office, staring at the latter’s laptop. 

“That’s the same kid?”

"I'm as sure as I can be.”

Two images are displayed side by side on the screen. Mike squints and leans in: in one, a grainy security cam still, the young man stands smilingly in front of the motel service desk, just seconds before smashing the mirror he’d used to kill his dead brother’s only son. In the other, a picture snapped by the investigator, the man is in motion on the street and about to enter a building.

“Looks like the same fucking suit,” mumbles Mike, tapping his single gold incisor with a stubby fingernail. He sits in his desk chair, leaning forward and scrutinizing the images. He still wears a black armband for Chet. His sister-in-law hasn't left the house since the funeral- when Chet was laid to rest beside his father. Soon the tombstone would read:

ROBERT CHARLES MONROE 01. 01. 1965 - 08. 20. 2018 Beloved Husband, Father, Son and Brother And also his son CHESTER “CHET” MONROE 03. 19. 1999- 10. 19. 2025 Loved and missed by all their family.

Mike sighs as the investigator shows him a completely filled notebook.

"I’ll tell you, Mr Monroe. He’s a tough guy to follow. Slippery bastard. Walks into buildings and never walks out. One minute he's beside you and the next he’s halfway down the street. It's the only reason it’s taken this long. I still have no idea where he lives. But he seems to have one reliable pattern."

The investigator flicks through a folder of images. The man is seen strolling into and out of the same apartment block from different angles.

“He seems to go there most Tuesdays, Thursdays and sometimes Monday. He walks in before eight PM and leaves before midnight at the latest. I’ve isolated a specific apartment." 

He hands a folded post-it note to his client and continues. 

“If we want more information on him, I think that’s where we’ll find it.”

Mike ponders.

“I’ll take it from here.”

 Before you left for lunch, you were able to renew one of Charlie's apparently 'no hope' clients, (a firm called Granger Roberts). You’d found the key stakeholder, Mimi, extremely open to your sales patter. From her tone, her problem had been with Charlie himself rather than the company's offerings. Through subtle implicature, you were able to express your own attitude towards him and you'd hit it off extremely quickly.

After that single conversation, you'd been able to persuade her to renew her contract and had a meeting set up with her to discuss a possible move to a higher level of service. When the confirmatory email came through, Joe had paid a visit to your desk and congratulated you while Charlie looked on, trying to look as if he were proud of your 'progress' rather than seething at your success.

Settling back to work after your lunch break, your satisfied glow is interrupted when Christine comes back from the office door holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Delivery for you!” her eyes twinkle, “They said there wasn’t a card but they’re beautiful. Secret admirer?”

“It must be,” you smile, taking the flowers from her. 

They are beautiful. It’s a modestly sized bunch but the purple hyacinth, bright white roses and tulips are perfectly arranged. 

A few other people comment as you place the flowers on your desk, still wrapped in their own vase. It seems like Five is determined to replace everything he broke last night. Attracted by a slight commotion in which he is not the center of attention, Charlie sidles over, ever ready to ruin a good thing.

“Pretty tragic,” he says, in that joke-but-not-a-joke tone that makes you want to punch him through a wall, “sending yourself flowers.” 

He laughs and smiles as if to say ‘just banter’.

Your messaging app pings. It's Christine:

Just ignore the dickhead.

You smile over at her. 

Flowers under your arm, you get in the elevator at five-fifteen. Just as the doors have nearly closed, a hand shoots through the gap and they reopen to allow Charlie to enter.

“Hi.” he says, stepping in beside you and re-pressing the first floor button. You offer him a polite smile. As the elevator hums and descends, he says:

“Nice job with Granger Roberts.”

“Thanks,” you say, shortly.

After a few seconds, he speaks again:

“You know. I’ve got nothing better to do tonight. I could take you out.”

You suppress a derisive snort: “No thanks.”

“You're not my usual type but I wouldn’t be ashamed to have you on my arm.”

You scoff in disbelief. Is he negging you? What is this, 2016?

“Honestly, I’d rather pluck out my own eyeballs.”

He laughs incredulously as the doors pull open and you stalk out, trying to put as much distance as possible in between you and him.

As you march across the parking lot, you nearly fall when you crash straight into Five as he steps out from behind a parked car. He instinctively reaches out to steady you. 

“Hi.”

“Hi...sorry.” you reply, unsure what else to say.

He’s neat and tidy again. A clean suit, tie and hair immaculate. He’s wearing cologne. He nods at the flowers,

“Do you like them?”

“Y-yes,” you falter slightly.

"The language of flowers”, he explains, trying to inhabit his usual confidence but clearly wrongfooted, “it’s one of those stupid things our Dad made us learn...but I brought this too,” he holds out a wrapped red rose with a half shrug, “the meaning's a little more self-explanatory.”

Your eyes move from the rose to his. They're embarrassed, as vulnerable as they were last night. The hand not held out to you is deep in his jacket pocket. He looks uneasy but oddly determined. As you take it, he opens his mouth to speak.

“More flowers?” comes Charlie’s mocking voice, forestalling Five as he catches up to you. “Aren’t you the lucky girl?” With a look at Five, he winks: “What did you do wrong?”

“Fuck off Charlie”, you say, with emphasis, “I won’t tell you again.”

He laughs, coming to a stop and sizing up Five, who reciprocates, moving towards him casually, slightly hip-shot. He surveys Charlie as if discovering an unpleasant but pathetic-looking insect under a rock. Charlie glances back at you, mocking smile still in place.

“Never had you down as a cougar.”

Before you can respond, Five does it for you, voice deceptively light.

“She told you to fuck off,” though he doesn’t quite square up, he’s clearly ready for however this might turn, body angled to block Charlie's view of you, “I’d suggest you listen to her.”

Charlie just laughs, “Why so defensive, kid? Can't get pussy your own age?”

You know what’s coming. In a fluid, lightning-fast movement, Five's right elbow pulls back and swipes Charlie squarely across the face, knocking him off his feet in the direction of the blow's momentum. On the ground now, he howls with pain and holds his head. You shouldn't be enjoying this.

“My n-nose! My fucking nose!”

Five turns to you, sweeping at his jacket sleeve to dab a fleck of Charlie’s blood from the forearm. He holds out his other arm. Without thinking, you take it and he leads you away, leaving Charlie to writhe.

After a few minutes’ leisurely walk, Five says, “You gave me a lot to think about. May I take you to dinner?”

“It’s Friday,” you say, weakly.

“Yes but, assuming you’re not busy, I was hoping to talk.”

He takes you to a rooftop bar and restaurant in the city. He hasn’t made a reservation, but the concierge, greeting Five with a hearty handshake and a slap on the forearm, promises to fit him in within thirty minutes.This, only a couple of weeks before Christmas, seems like a real favor.

You go to wait in the bar and Five exchanges a friendly nod with the bartender as he pulls out a chair for you. The restaurant is sleek and modern, but not ostentatious. From what you could see on tables as you passed, the food appears good quality: presented nicely but without the smears and garnishings that denote haute cuisine.

Five insists you try the Bordeaux, though he himself sticks to seltzer water throughout the evening. Although he’s clearly still staving off the effects of a monster hangover, he’s attentive, charming and an excellent conversation partner. He’s effortlessly suave; in contrast to last night, his hair sits perfectly in place.

The Bordeaux really is good.

“How do you know so much about picking wine? Didn’t you spend most of your life scavenging canned food?”

“Glad you asked,” he smiles, idly running his index finger around the rim of his glass, “One of the only things to survive an apocalypse? Cellars. And what do you put in a wine cellar? Only the best wine.”

He chuckles reminiscently, “Last night was nothing. We used to drink our way through magnums of the stuff.”

At this passing reference to Dolores, he looks down before abruptly changing the subject.

“So, back in the parking lot, whose nose did I break?”

You regale him with stories about Charlie; his general chauvinism,  infuriating attitude and particularly about his antics offloading his clients today.

“So, essentially, I’m stuck with four more clients with about three months left to get them to renew after they’ve already got sick of Charlie.”

“You renewed one though? Not bad for a couple of hours of work. Do you like your job? You seem good at it.”

“Yeah, I like it well enough. I’m good at persuading people.” 

Five grins here, as if he knows all too well what you’re talking about. 

“It sometimes feels a little empty though. Working for ‘the man’, you know?”

He nods. “Tell me about it. A bureaucratic nightmare?"

“More overly corporate. There are nice people there, don’t misunderstand me, but there’s so much backstabbing and little bits of sex-discrimination that get pushed under the rug.”

He tilts his head and raises a brow, inviting elaboration.

You tell him about the conversation in the elevator and he laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head.

“Want me to go back Monday and break his teeth too?” 

As your laughter subsides, he becomes thoughtful. Staring into his glass, he says: “I guess I’ve treated you worse."

You stare at your glass too. You can’t lie to him. You can maybe forgive, but forgetting isn’t within your power.

“Maybe…but at least you know what to do with a clitoris. I wouldn’t trust Charlie to know where it is.”

He smiles but then his mind seems to drift. Absent-mindedly, he removes his jacket. When he resumes speaking, he seems to be on a different train of thought.

“I was…so young. And I knew nothing. Hey, maybe I still don’t. We were home-schooled. That mad old bastard taught me all the quickest ways to kill a woman before I even started noticing them. Can you imagine coming out of that with typical sexual pathology?”

Honestly, you can’t. He leans forward, raising his eyes but lowering his voice.

“For the first few years on my own, I was obsessed. Going through puberty the first time with nobody. No first kiss, no prom night. It was just Dolores and that was before she started talking to me properly.

We lived in a library that was mostly still there. I read anything about sex that I could get my hands on. Everything I could get, thinking about how it would feel to touch a real woman or anyone ever again. It got to the point where I was cross-referencing erotica and old cosmos with medical journals to work out what would actually turn a woman on. It was all I did. If it’s been written about sex pre 2019, I’ve studied it and probably jerked off over it.”

He shakes off some of his intensity, laughs and gives a self-effacing smile.

“But Dolores…she loved romance. One of the first things she recommended was Anna Karenina. It pulled me out of my rut... She always knew what I needed and when. I’ve always loved reading, but romance…I guess it was such a different world from the one I was trapped in.”

He smiles guiltily and checks his watch.

“Our table should be ready soon. If you still want to eat with me? After…that?”

You smile, “Of course I do.”

After you’re seated with food ordered, Five loosens his tie and clears his throat. He reaches for the small basket on your table and grabs a seeded bread roll. Holding it tight, he takes a deep breath.

“After everything that happened, I don’t expect you to want to see me again. Tonight? Just something better to remember me by.”

He doesn’t meet your eye but seems otherwise calm and confident. Only his hands betray great tension. He shreds the bread roll compulsively, crumbs falling onto his side plate.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, full of trembling energy.

“It’s probably for the best,” he says, quietly.. 

“But is it what you want?” you push. 

There was something in his voice: a fraction of regret. You watch him now, as he seeks out a sunflower seed with his nails and rolls it between his fingers for a moment. 

“No.” he murmurs, at last. 

You stifle a sigh of relief. Neither do you; despite everything. As he continues to decimate the bread roll, you decide:

“Then things have to change,” he looks up, face registering vague surprise, “first off, you need to leave that bread alone. It’s suffered enough.”

He drops it on the side plate, brushing off his hands and flashing a self-conscious smile. As he shifts in his seat and fully meets your eyes, you continue to take the reins.

“Like I said last night, I need more intimacy afterwards.”

“And I’d like to give that to you.”

“-And if you ever make me feel physically threatened again, like last night or when we met, I never want to see you again. No more chances.”

He nods eagerly, “Agreed."

“If you can promise never to make me regret this," you look into his face, hoping you convey your firmness, "then we can carry on pretty much as before.”

Five eyes the bread roll again and makes another attempt at cockiness.

“One problem. I don’t think I can go on as before.”

You wait.

“I think I want more.”

He meets your gaze again. His eyes are especially emerald and clear tonight. 

“It's a real bitch, but it turns out I can’t just fuck you without developing feelings," he looks at you softly and reaches his hand across the table. Tentatively, you extend yours and he covers it with his own.  "I guess I freaked out last night because part of me knew but didn't want to accept it. I can’t pretend I can bring much to a... relationship -you know what I am- but I can promise to listen to you and learn.”

At this point, your appetizers arrive, clearly to Five’s annoyance. The server seems to take forever. Five tries, with strained politeness, to dismiss him as quickly as possible. After he finally leaves, you say:

"What about Dolores?"

He sighs, "I got two ways of thinking on it. First, you were kind of right. She didn't challenge me like a real woman could and…continuing to stay faithful to her, especially when I've lost her, is just...it's just hiding from real life."

He takes a sip of his drink, steadying himself,  "And second, I think that plenty of people move on after having long relationships. It doesn't make what we had any lesser. She'd want me to be happy."

He swipes at his head, sweeping at neat hair that isn't in his eyes.

You nod your understanding before continuing, still in slight disbelief.

“So..." you begin, fingering your fork nervously, "what would this look like?”

“More like…this,” he says, gesturing between the two of you. “if you want. Dates, romance, exclusivity, just hanging out. You know, properly courting.”

You stop, the first forkful of food part way to your mouth.

“…courting?”

Immediately, he clamors to take the word back but you talk over him, laughing hard.

“Well, who knew I had the honor of fingerblasting Miss Jane Austen herself?”

He stops talking. One eyebrow raises. Then he smiles. And now he laughs, at first in contained barks and then fully. Soon he's leaning back in the chair, reddening face screwed into painful lines. It wasn’t the funniest joke, but it broke the tension and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him. This is surely him at his cutest and your heart swells. His helpless laughter is infectious and now you laugh because he can’t stop.

You’re starting to attract the attention of other diners. With difficulty,  you gain control of yourselves and subside into sniggers.

After dinner, you’re out on the street. He holds the bouquet and you the rose. His other arm is draped comfortably around your waist.

He leans his head into yours, “Are you sure about this? I don’t think I would be in your position.”

“Maybe you don’t give people enough credit.”

“Perhaps.”

He stops, guiding you to the inner sidewalk. He tucks the bouquet under his arm, brings one hand fully to your cheek and the other to your neck, fingers on your chin and jaw.

"Can I kiss you?" he murmurs.

You nod. 

He brings his face towards you until you can see his every eyelash. His smallest finger traces over your lips. It gives you an unexpected frisson. There's no cockiness or cynicism now; only earnestness. His lips part and he sighs as he brings his lips to yours. At first, they're dry but, as his tension breaks, they become soft with your shared tenderness. The kiss is chaste, his hunger there, but controlled. It's not like any other he's given you. He's not possessing you, or trying to take you, he's cherishing. 

Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours, eyes still closed. When he speaks, his voice is just above a whisper.

“I think we should say goodbye for tonight.”

"No. Come home with me.”

"God, I want to..."

"Then do."

He takes a few moments, his cheek turning to rub yours.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

"Then my place is nearer.”

He takes your hand and leads you away.

Tag list: (lmk if you want to join) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh,@nevbrooke-555

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves smut #number 5 #number 5 imagine #number five smut #number 5 x reader #number 5 x you #hard feelings #no hard feelings

[hoodie-buck]

so we can get to the fun part

my fingers slipped and i accidentally wrote another coda to 5x17 instead of working on any of my wips 🙃

rated g | words: 1.7k

—

Eddie had finally gotten Chris tucked into bed when his phone began to buzz, the all too familiar picture of Buck and Chris lighting up his phone, the one they’d taken and sent to him on one of their many zoo trips.

He smiles down to his phone as he accepts the facetime call, laying back on the bed in his parents’ spare bedroom.

 “Hey Buck.”

It was late, though Buck seemed wide awake, something like pain flashing across his face before it was replaced with a smile, his blues beaming to something off camera. Eddie raises a brow as Buck flips the camera, displaying a sleeping Jee-Yun over his lap; Eddie commits the image to memory instantly.

“We’re having a sleepover.”

Eddie has to admit that he’s a little jealous, though he’s glad to see his best friend safe after everything that happened, tucked in with his favorite niece for the night.

 Buck had texted him a series of messages earlier, giving him the rundown about Jonah and what had gone down; it made him sick. Eddie hated that he couldn’t be there with his teammates, his family, but he was where he needed to be for the moment.

“How’s everyone doing?”

“Hen and Chim checked out ok, but they wanna keep them overnight to make sure. Maddie said she’s gonna stay with him for the night.”

With the camera still on Jee, Eddie can see as Buck runs his fingers through her hair, brushing the stray pieces off her face. Eddie gets lost on the sight, almost forgetting they were having a conversation until Buck’s face fills the screen once more.

“So, how’s everything going there?”

“Better than I thought it would’ve actually.”

Buck nods, though he still seems far away, his gaze not quite meeting Eddie’s like it usually does, even through a screen.

“That’s good Eds. Guessing you and your dad were able to talk?”

“Yea, we uh, I think we’re gonna be ok.”

His relationship with his father wouldn’t change overnight, though they’d made more progress than they had in years, so that was something.

 “I’m glad. You look lighter Eds. You’ve been smiling more again.”

Was he?

“Yea, I um, I’ve been feeling a little more myself lately.”

They don’t say anything for a while, Eddie watching as Buck changes expressions several times, the camera shifting as he fidgets with his fingers beyond the screen.

“Hey, you know you can talk to me, right? I mean, if something’s bothering you?”

Buck does look to the screen then, those blues of his a little darkened.

“I—it’s nothing. Everything’s good here Eds. Just tired.”

Eddie doesn’t buy it for a second; Buck’s a terrible liar, especially with the way Eddie can read him, almost better than himself.

 “If you don’t tell me now, I’ll just have to fly home tonight and get it out of you in person.”

Bucks face softens again, his hand bringing the phone closer to his face on instinct.

“You would do that?”

He would; he wished Buck understood that without having to ask.

“Of course, you’re my best friend, Buck. Tell me what’s going on.”

Eddie doesn’t add that Buck means so much more to him than that; that’s for another night, preferably one when they’re not thousands of miles apart. Buck sighs dejectedly, biting at his lip before answering.

“She promised. She-she promised, but she did it anyway.”

Eddie doesn’t have to ask to know he’s talking about Taylor.

“What did Taylor promise?”

Buck scrubs a hand over his face, sitting up a little, making sure not to jostle Jee who’s still soundly resting over his chest.

“Hen and Chim came over to talk about Jonah…asking if Taylor could help them find some footage. It was supposed to be off the record, but I found her looking into it later and talking to someone on the phone about it. She-she promised me Eds, but I saw her on the news tonight talking about it anyway.”

Eddie has no idea what facial expression he makes, though he tries to keep his tone neutral; it wasn’t exactly a secret that he wasn’t Taylor’s biggest fan, and not just because she was Buck’s girlfriend—Taylor had given him plenty of reasons over the years.

“I’m sorry Buck, that’s shitty. She shouldn’t have violated any of your guy’s trust like that. I can’t say I’m surprised though.”

“Yea, me either.”

And Eddie—wasn’t expecting Buck to agree with him.

 “Did something else happen?”

Buck’s shoulders rise and fall as he lets out another heavy breath, fingers picking at some invisible lint on his hoodie.

“Well, I don’t think anyone’s forgotten about how we first met her, with those brownies and all, but she just—she always chooses work, her stories, over anything, no matter who she hurts in the process. All she cares about is having the ‘best’ story and getting the coverage out there first.”

That had become abundantly clear to Eddie over the years, though he didn’t know Buck had been taking note of it as well.

“Have you talked to her about it, about tonight?”

“She was still reporting when I called her, so I left her a voicemail. I—I’m just so angry Eds.”

Eddie knows Buck’s more upset with himself than Taylor; Buck always blames himself.

“Hey, you’re allowed to be angry Buck. What she did is wrong. She only had that information because of her tie to you, and she gave you her word she wouldn’t use it.”

Buck’s head slumps back against the couch then, his hand moving to rub over his eyes.

“She’s probably punishing me.”

“What the hell would she be punishing you for?”

“Because I kissed Lucy.”

Oh yea, that.

“Well from what you told me, she didn’t seem all that upset about it. I mean she could’ve left Buck, but she chose to stay.”

“Yea well I didn’t really give her much of a choice since I asked her to move in and she dropped her lease.”

Yea, Buck had definitely over compensated with that one, but again, Taylor chose to stay.

“You fucked up Buck. That doesn’t make it right for her to turn around and do this, especially when it doesn’t just affect you. I think we both know that Taylor wanted that story, and she was going to sabotage anyone to have it, even you.” Buck rubs at his eyes. Eddie can see the way they’ve turned glassy, Buck refusing to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“Can we—how’s Chris, and Abuela?”

Eddie knows it’s a deflection, an easy way out, one he gives Buck because he hates to see him in pain, especially when he can’t be there physically.

“Well, Abuela made tamales.”

 That instantly gets a smile from Buck, one Eddie is all too happy to see. They talk for a while longer, avoiding any topics that are too heavy, Eddie watching as Buck’s eyelids droop further and further, his soft sleep sounds eventually coming through Eddie’s speaker; if Eddie takes a screenshot that’s all too adorable, well, that’s his business. ~

It’s not until later the next week that Eddie sees Buck again.

  He’d gotten back from El Paso a few days after their conversation, Buck on shift the next couple.

  They were working together in Eddie’s room, patching up the holes so that the walls could be re-painted. Eddie would be lying if he didn’t still feel shameful about that night, but he was working on it. He was working on letting people in, Buck being one at the top of that list.

 “I broke up with Taylor.”

Eddie nearly drops the paintbrush in his hand, staring over to Buck with wide eyes.

“Are you ok?”

Buck seems surprised by his answer, though he continues on with his painting.

“Yea. I just, it hadn’t really been working out for a while, you know?”

Yes, Eddie had been able to come to that conclusion years ago, though he’d been too afraid to mention those observations to Buck.

 “How um—do you wanna talk about it?”

One thing Eddie had learned over the years with Buck was not to push; he would open up when he was ready.

Buck pauses his movements, shrugging his shoulders.

“She was upset, but eventually agreed with me. I told her she could keep the loft.”

“Are you gonna try and find a place with Maddie?”

Buck sets the tray and brush down then, finally looking over at Eddie.

“No, I um, she said she really needs to focus on herself right now, so I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”

“Yea, that-that makes sense.”

Eddie wants to offer his place, he does, but he doesn’t want Buck to feel obligated.

Buck looks down to the floor, his hands fidgeting as he finally looks back up to Eddie.

“I was wondering if um, if maybe I could stay here for a while, with-with you and Chris?”

When Eddie doesn’t immediately answer, Buck tags on, “I mean you can say no, I can uh, always find somewhere else, or—”

“Buck, of course you can stay with us. You don’t even have to ask.”

Buck does that little head duck, the one that’s all too adorable, smiling softly over to Eddie.

“You uh, you won’t mind my snoring?”

Eddie lets out a laugh, one that has Buck smiling brighter.

“Not as long as you don’t mind me having a mental breakdown in the middle of the night.”

Buck’s gaze turns serious then.

“I’ll always be here Eds, no matter what.”

 Why couldn’t Buck have said one of his ridiculous random facts instead of getting all sappy on him?

“Or you know, I could-I could be there for you.”

There. Two can play at that game.

A bashful smile creeps over Buck’s face, one that has his cheeks tinging red.

“C’mon partner, lets’ finish these walls so we can get to the fun part.”

Eddie easily agrees, picking up where they left off, the two of them working in sync as always.

They work on the room little by little, putting it back together, everything falling right into place. Everything fit together perfectly; the bed, their legs tangled together beneath the covers, Buck’s lips over his, just—everything.

As it turns out, ‘the fun part’ ends up being Eddie’s favorite step, Buck’s too. It was like having a sleepover of their own every night, one Eddie never wants to end.

tagging squad below, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

tags: @buddiextarlos @swiftiediaz @mansikkaomenabanaani @confetti-cupcake @chimneymisteraprilhan @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @loveyourownsmiilee @corgiqueen14 @justsmilestuffhappens @prettyboyandthekid @honestlydarkprincess @zainclaw @reallysmartladymariecurie @djdangerlove @constructiononsunset @love-buddie @bifirefighters @perfectlynervousbeard @blaidddrwg1982 @buddierights

#buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #911 fox #911 spoliers #911 5x17 #coda #domestic buddie #late night conversations #fluff #idiots in love #anti bucktaylor #just to be safe #this is soft y’all #i’ll put this on ao3 eventually #kel(s) writing

[crabcrabcrabmeat]

Anon has got me thinking abt Gundam again -_- apologies. Specifically Gwitch, which iirc had a preproduction w a ton of market research vs First which has more auteurism imo. They have opposite pitfalls in a way.

Gwitch is undoubtedly made with the international market in mind. For example, the UI at the school, on characters phones etc is exclusively in English, and not even basic phrases or wasei-ego a Japanese audience could easily infer or read. (Granted, the font makes it tricky for anyone to, lol) Someone's job was to write it grammatically accurately and meaningful, as opposed to just plunking in filler text about operating photoshop or whatever like someone at the studio did for Wing. It's a notable choice, but also a poor one for narrative flow, because it necessitates fumbling at the edge of the 4th wall a bit (and for anglophones, redundancy) when characters talk abt the text they just sent/read. (It happens multiple times too lol) It's a very good choice however, if part of your metric for success is getting foreign eyes on your show AND having nerds pour over the phrasing as easter eggs to analyze. It's free marketing!

Using English can absolutely be an artistic choice, esp when only a Japanese audience is going to be watching the show (there has been tape-sharing from pretty much the start, but that's not what finances a production) Early UC used English/Anglophonisms all the time for an international and narrative intent, such as calling female federation cadets "Waves" a la WW2 USA, having western name orders ("Amuro Ray" even though "Ray" is his family name) and saying that the canon name spellings are in katakana, even with Japanese names like 'kobayashi' and 'deikun'. Part of that is futuristic world building, but it's a very political choice, even before getting into 0079s obvious themes. I'm no expert on race/ethnicity in anime, but to put in context how new the 'racelessness' design approach was in 1979 as opposed to today, Yasuhiko Yoshikazu semi jokingly told coworkers a possible kanji spelling for "Ray" if any higher ups audit their choices. A non (Yamato) Japanese lead was something artists had to defend! (Another example off the top of my head is Jotaro from JJBA having a Japanese father....who is never even pictured lol. It's a compromise with editors for "daring" to show a minority lead)

In that sense, having characters of color, having women characters who aren't pigeonholed into "women's roles" etc are choices that today are taken for granted. It's fun to point out the silliest Tomino names for example, but it's far better than ethnic homogeneity. And make no mistake, representation is a good thing! I just hold a higher bar for productions that have the benefit of less scrutiny. If my understanding is correct, absolutely no toy sponsors or TV execs back in the day would've pushed for more POC in Gundam but the studio did anyways! Whereas I assume such a thing was a given at sunrise today, not out of anti-racism goodness nessessarily (Shaddiq was done SO dirty) but because it's generally profitable to avoid ruffling too many feathers, as well as to target as wide a demographic as possible. And in this day and age with high-speed internet, quick translation, vast supply chains for producing and and disseminating merch, etc, "wide audience" means an international one. "Representation" is incentivized, not nessessary a choice made against a status quo.

This is all obvious and fun to parse if you're aware of the socioeconomic context in which media is made, questions like "who is the audience? Who is the producer? How is this being made and why?" show a more objective picture of it all. I'm not here to beef w other fans who feel less alone when there's someone like them on the screen, I want people to think About media more is all. If you find Sulemio meaningful, I'm not going to take that from you, as WLW are in fact good. I'm just painfully aware that someone somewhere was calculating, financially, if an onscreen lesbian marriage would be profitable or not (Gundam and other big anime IP are federally subsidized by the 'Cool Japan Initiative' iirc) and the choice to be less gay than possible (and promised, imo) was made, maliciously or not, to bow to the wishes of a conservative, misogynistic nation-state.

#sorry for the lack of sources this got massive quick #i was intending to talk abt gender politics in gwitch vs zeta but thats an even bigger topic lol #abs blabs