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coeurify · 10 months

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I have no idea how this would fit into an storyline but I am a hoe for fake dating. Imagine fake dating with abby and it slowly becoming too real

UGH YOU GET ME FAKE DATING IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES!!

⋆˚✿˖° now, abby anderson had a problem. specifically a blonde, brown eyed loud mouthed man of a problem. owen fucking moore. she had broken up with him in the summer time, little explanation given to the ass of a boyfriend other than that she needed to “find herself.” (not that she needed to give any.)

⋆˚✿˖° but owen? oh owen didn’t accept that. so from the very moment abby had broken it off, to when the air began to smell like fall.. he pestered abby. asked for a reason, begged for another chance (despite HIM going around with damn near every girl on the WLF compound.)

⋆˚✿˖° things came to a head at a get together in one of abby and owen’s mutual friend’s apartment style quarters. mutual friend who also happened to be your roommate.

⋆˚✿˖° abby and owen fought all night, abby’s cheeks red from embarrassment and anger, eyebrows furrowed together. “why can’t you just take no for an answer owen?“ the cup in her hand crackled a bit under the pressure when the man scoffed. “because you never give me a real answer!” abby’s arms crossed at that, searching around the room. quickly, and maybe a little impulsively, she shrugged. “i’m into someone else now.”

⋆˚✿˖° owen just couldn’t accept that, his arms thrown around dramatically. “so you like another guy? that’s why you wont give me another chance? you know i can treat you better.” that sentence alone reminded abby just why she hated being with him so much, but again that fast moving brain of hers spoke before the thought could finish, finger pointing in the direction of the first person she found.. you. “it’s not a guy. it’s a girl. im not.. into your..” abby made a motion, “species anymore.” sure, it was sort of true. abby recently realized she probably had a thing for girls, but you particularly? she couldn’t count on her fingers the amount of conversations she had with. “i like her.”

⋆˚✿˖° you, who’s head poked up, mouth full of slightly stale chips, having heard the whole conversation. abby anderson, beautiful, funny, madeyouweakintheknees, abby anderson was into you? and not straight? surely not. you swallowed harshly, deciding to play into whatever game abby seemed to have set on the floor. you made your way over, an award winning smile on your face as owen’s mouth dropped open further than a damn infected. “You like her? as in girls?”

⋆˚✿˖° honestly, you probably caused more trouble when you stood near the two, “abs!” you grinned, “you forgot your jacket here.. cmere ill grab it for you.” and then your hand is wrapped around her tensed bicep, the stiffness likely caused by her pure shock you even played along. still, she used it as an out from the devil with blonde locks, shrugging almost apologetically at owen before letting you whisk her away.

⋆˚✿˖° and that night, after everyone but you and abby had stumbled out of the cramped room, which was still humid and heavy, you made the plan. with a pen that had little ink left, scratching against the water damaged pages of the notebook you tucked under your pillow, you wrote the words “project get rid of owen moore.” which ok, in retrospect sounded really bad. but you were a little tipsy.

⋆˚✿˖° the plan was easy. play the role of abby’s first girlfriend, convince owen she was totally not into him or men anymore. what did you get out of it? a spot on the top dog abby anderson’s patrol team. something you had been vying for this year. abby agreed, although a little hesitantly. she promised she had picked you only because its who her pointed finger found first. not any actual attraction. you swallowed down the hit to your ego that brought.

⋆˚✿˖° and honestly? the plan went on pretty steadily. you were a damn good fake girlfriend if you had to admit it, and abby didn’t hate being around you. in fact, she really enjoyed being around you. she enjoyed how easily your fingers reached down, tapping on her palm to fing a way to hold her hand whenever one of owen’s posey was around. she enjoyed how you leaned in whenever owen passed by, your lips on her ear, whispering anything you knew would have her smiling. a fake smile of course.

⋆˚✿˖° you two had some pretty strict rules. no kissing, no extreme touchiness, absolutely no spilling to anyone this was fake, and the most important.. no real feelings. you had come up with a backstory, one you two had studied together. (you two met in the training room after your roommate introduced you two and totally hit it off. abby got you a spot on her team next to her and manny, and feeling bloomed from there.) abby added in a few details she knew would piss owen off.. and you sealed your lips shut to follow the rules.

⋆˚✿˖° the first few weeks were easy. you liked spending time around abby. you enjoyed how she smiled, you laughed at all the jokes she cracked (for the fake dating points of course..), and you loved training with her. you had to ignore the shiver her hands on your shoulders or waist gave, knowing it was just to help your position. “you have to fix your stance if you plan on fighting scars..” abby huffed.

⋆˚✿˖° the problem started in october. a month and a half into your fake dating plan. tens of lunches spent alone together, a handful of new hair styles you begged to try on abby, and around 5 missions out of the base, in. there was a party, one you demanded the two of you go to one day as you lounged on abby’s bunk— watching as she cleaned up manny’s mess across the room. “if we dress up together, owen will totally finally get off your case,” you assured, bringing a loud sigh from the blonde. “oh my god.. fine.”

⋆˚✿˖° you went as a angel and devil, simple enough to easy stitch together some devil horns for yourself and an angel halo you found in an old broken down store in the city for abby. no way did you admit the trouble you went for to find it to abs, especially not as she easily pulled her shirt off in front of you, totally clueing you in to where the nickname came from as she shoved on the white teeshirt.

⋆˚✿˖° see, the no kissing rule was an important one, but vodka made everything seem less important, and owen was awfully loud that night, scoffing any time you smiled and leaned into your angel, head band tilting off your head, which abby fixed with a grin. “you two act more like friends than people fucking each other,” owen scoffed as he pressed by you two, the words pounding in abby’s ears over the loud mingling voices.

⋆˚✿˖° “kiss me,” abby called over the old cd that played on the speakers, her cheeks red with anger— blue eyes flicking around. “what?” you laughed, thinking back to rule number 1. “i know we said no— no kissing but i just.. oh my god just kiss me,” abby muttered, her large hands gripping your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss, one she was sure owen was watching on to. one you melted into, sucking her lip in between yours.

⋆˚✿˖° that had been a breaking point, ragged breaths and heated necks as you pulled away. it lead to more excuses with less validity being used when the two of you stared at each other’s lips. stepping down the stairs of the base, eyes catching on someone who just looked like owen. “kiss me,” abby muttered quickly, and you wasted no time to turn your head and fill your nose with the scent of pine as you leaned in.

⋆˚✿˖° the no kissing rule crossed off right before the no touchiness one did, that one had been scribbled off completely when abby began pulling you into her lap in group functions, one soft hand rubbing up against your side as she whispered in your ear, “jus’ for show.”

⋆˚✿˖° just for show of course, but you screamed into your pillow for so long that night you almost thought the walls of your room would crumble down along with the barrier you put between you and the blonde.

⋆˚✿˖° kisses and touchiness turned to nights spent in abby’s room, mornings waking up and having abby’s shirt thrown at your face. “wear that, owen got it for me when we were dating.” sure, you probably should be ashamed to be wearing the clothes of a girl who didn’t like you, but the frown on owen’s face made it worth it.

⋆˚✿˖° that last rule, the one that didn’t have pen strokes over the letters, the one locked behind awkward coughs and side glances, well you weren’t sure who broke it first. you dont know why feelings came into play, but you sure do know it happened.

⋆˚✿˖° you felt it first when abby didn’t talk to you for a few days. you saw her across the stadium with nora, her head tilted back lightly in a laugh at something the other girl said. that was the first time you felt the needle sized ache in your heart, one that only ripped further when owen shoulder checked you on his way by, “better get your girl. she slips away easily.”

⋆˚✿˖° maybe that rule had been broken when abby stormed into your room, met with the sight of you on the couch with some other blonde girl, an old tape of a southern movie mid way through when anderson scoffed and demanded the girl get out. she did so in a hurry, scrambling for her sweatshirt as a frown grew on your lips. “abby what the fuck?” you scoff, watching her eyebrows unfurrow lightly. “you can’t have other girls over! it fucks with our plan,” she accused, though she stumbled lightly over the words. “she’s just a friend, abby.”

⋆˚✿˖° however, the night you sat in your bed, breath heavy and eyes stinging as you broke through the paper with the pen, scratching over the words “no real feelings,” that came in the end of november.

⋆˚✿˖° your head was pressed into abby’s shoulder, yawning and closing your eyes as the movie played on a big sheet, a biweekly occurrence in the WLF base. abby had pressed to your cheek, placing a kiss to it that had some sort of butterfly attack take fruition in your stomach. you two didn’t even know if owen or his friends were around, and they for sure were not the reason of abby’s hand linking into yours as you two walked toward her room later that night. you both seemed to realize that when you reached her door and she leaned forward just lightly, as if to kiss you.

⋆˚✿˖° she cleared her throat, licking over the lips you wanted to capture again. “i think-” she said suddenly, squeezing her eyes closed. “i think owen really believes it now.” you could feel your heart sinking to the empty stomach that laid below your chest, knowing what came next. “i think we should break up.” abby finished, quick to add, “fake break up.”

⋆˚✿˖° you nodded along silently to the story she built still standing in her doorway. miscommunication, arguments, differing plans, the whole shebang— anything to make the breakup believable. you agreed, but the moment her door shut, a half smile and thank you sitting on her lips as the door locked, you felt the tears prick your eyes.

⋆˚✿˖° you wiped quickly at the tears, your hand slapped over the aching chest you swore betrayed you. you sucked in shallow breaths, shaky hands finding your own door as your vision went blurry.

⋆˚✿˖° as your pen broke through the white sheet of paper, you cursed your own heart. you cursed it for being so easy to rip from your chest, presented on a platter for a blonde who only saw it as a fake replica. you threw the notebook across the floor, hand slapping over your mouth so your roommate wouldn’t wake as you sobbed into it. surely you had been the only one to break that rule, but that didn’t matter now.

⋆˚✿˖° but you were wrong. not that you could know that. a five minute walk away, abby breathed out slowly as her fingers scraped though the braid she was undoing, an odd stinging pricked at the corner of her lashes. she knew she did the right thing. she knew it as soon as her lips searched for your own at her doorway tonight. so why did it feel so bad? why did her hands tremble as she pulled out her blanket and climbed under it, squeezing her eyes shut.

⋆˚✿˖° if this was all fake, why did the break up feel so real?

#rins reqs ❀.#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fluff

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oopsdevil · 5 months

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COD + Tropes (pt. 2)

which trope do they fall into when it comes to you.

SIMON GHOST RILEY + BLIND DATE

"i should be home right now" was the first thought simon had when he stepped foot into that fancy restaurant. the most dangerous man of the country, scared of a date.

in retrospect, he had it coming. he knew he shouldn't have let soap set him up with someone whose face he doesn't even know. and he is already sweating, feeling absolutely exposed without his mask and-

he saw you. and his mind went quiet. his only worry right now is how to be a worthy date for you. and yes, you must think he is an idiot for the way he keeps staring, but he can't help it. for once in his life he begs to whoever is listening: let this go right for me.

and someone must have heard him, because it was the best date of his life since you told him you would have preferred a more casual place. his heart skipped a beat when you mentioned you would cook for him on a second date.

now, he loves thinking about that first date, and how the second one turned into the best first kiss, and how the third one turned into you never leaving his bed again.

KYLE GAZ GARRICK + NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR

kyle was never a clumsy guy, so why does he keep tripping on his porch every time he sees his new neighbor? in his mind, you had to be flawed. something! you couldn't possibly be this perfect right? oh except he knows you are. he really tried to push his feelings, but you won his heart in a very simple way. his cat, peanut.

you should have seen his face the day he saw out the window and spotted his cat, comfortably sitting at your home. he came back later that night, but gaz kept it in his mind. and he started noticing it, the way you leave water for peanut in hot summer days and a window open to enter your room on rainy nights. and he just couldn't help it. after HOURS (yes, hours) of self pep talk, kyle knocked your door, offering a nice dinner and the chance to see peanut's own home.

peanut is delighted, specially because how years later, you brought to your shared place his new orange 'sibilings': bear and willow.

JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH + LOVE CONFESSION

loud, funny, sarcastic, cheeky. that's soap. but johnny's face couldn't possibly get any more pink while looking at his best friend's sister. he has known you for years, spent dozens of holidays with you, shared hundreds of nights at clubs.

i mean, yeah, he felt like ripping his heart out when you brought your first boyfriend for thanksgiving. and he lied once or twice saying he was close to your house to give you a ride. and now... now maybe it's his age, everything he went through pushing him to chase after the only one who ever crosses his mind, and fuck- are your eyes brighter? he didn't think it was possible.

he thought about how to tell you in a million possible ways. and it came flying out of his mouth the second you told him you broke up with your man. you blushed and gave him a peck that stayed on his mind the rest of the night month.

"oh, me and him broke up last june actually-"

"go out with me"

KÖNIG + SECRET DATING

it was a very difficult mission: lots of planning, lots of packing, tracking, unloadings and-

this shouldn't be a problem. it has never been until now, but all he can think about are your lips while seeing you across the room. considering that you are a part of the 141, he barely ever sees you here, your relationship is exclusively civilian. so you both made a silent pact: no personal interact at work.

and it went well!... for like a day. and you really thought you could keep it a secret, but the way he looked at you and how bad you missed each other... you pushed it a little when you decided to let him sleep in your room.

now, it might be your dizzy head after making out all morning, but you forgot a very basic rule in the army; basically, no privacy. the fact that a superior could walk into your room at any giving moment is annoying, but at this point you were convinced the universe just hated you.

your lieutenant, the very overprotective man who took you under his wing, opened the door that very morning. ghost and könig looked at each other intensely for a long 10 seconds.

an hour, a black eye and a terrible lecture from price to simon later, könig still smiled. at least he didn't have to hide you anymore.

JOHN PRICE + LOVE/HATE RELATIONSHIP

you drive him crazy. he swears everything that comes out of your mouth makes his eyes roll. every petty comment, everytime you put him in his place, how you look at him during reports because you know you make him nervous. he hates when the rest sees the way he can't stand you, and why the fuck do they keep saying is sexual tension? because he gets closer to you when talking? that's purely for intimidation. in his defense, you hate him too! except he has no idea you blush the second he turns around, or how you defend him if another soldier questions his decisions.

feelings hit you both like a train a random night of spring. he heard crying in the hall, so soft he thought he was imagining it. he saw you and instinctively ran to you. in that situation, you just couldn't pretend anymore, you needed a minute to break about everyone and everything that has been pushing you to this moment. he wrapped his big arms around you, giving you the hug and body heat you both have been craving from each other. he internally promised himself to make it right, so his heart would never have to break again at the sight of your tears.

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bunji-enthusiast · 3 months

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Hello, I hope that my message reaches you, in general, here it is. Platonic Catnap x fem!reader, she is Catnap's caretaker, she makes sure that Catnap is healthy and exhausted, reader works with him at night, due to the fact that the reader has insomnia, she can not sleep for a very long time (by the way, because of this, she was chosen as Catnap's caretaker), so she can keep up with Catnap, but she can sometimes pass out, which is why you can't wake her up for a long time, and she sleeps in ridiculous positions, which caused a lot of awkward and embarrassing situations, it’s funny that the only thing that can wake her up is some kind of quiet sound. Now about the reader herself, she is calm but sarcastic, and a big workaholic, she is a very responsible person, and someone who never misses work, unlike other caretaker's smiling critter's, she is antisocial and rarely seen, reader can only be seen at work, or around Catnap, or both, so Catnap and reader always avoids the event together until Dogday and his caretaker find them, reader is mostly alone and she is only friends with Catnap, Dogday, and his caretaker, although reader does not show verbal affection, but her actions show how very cares a lot about Catnap, they are the type of friends who just sit for hours together and are silent, doing nothing, but they feel comfortable about it, reader sometimes falls asleep next to Catnap, because of the feeling of trust, and security, well, and also because she likes the smell of lavender, and it calms her and puts her to sleep. Everything was going well until the reader realized ... that the toys were alive, she initially thought it was some kind of advanced technology, animatronics, but when she saw one of the toys eating or bleeding ... she began to suspect something, and becomes more suspicious, the management/superiors noticed this, and decided (fortunately) to simply fire her, forbidding her from approaching Poppy Playtime, because of this she lost contact with Catnap, except for the caretaker of Dogday, after that ... Catnap decides to arrange an hour of joy, because the only thing that kept him from this was the reader, but since she is no longer there ... there is no point in delaying this moment any longer

Thanks in advance for writing

Stranger To Home

Note || ya’ll have IDEAS, I’m jealous. Anyway hope this was okay :>

WC || 1,718

Sleep wasn’t a gift made for you, you never had truly earned it. Many of your co-workers would call you a night owl, but you simply had lost all motive behind those intentions to actually care for their words. Or anyone else’s in particular, you just wanted to work your shift, get the job done and clock out. Though, in retrospect with your tendencies to stay up so late, even shifting into any other time of the day – it is befitting to be labeled an insomniac. Which had you guessing as to why that was your superior’s decision to assign you to CatNap, to be his official caretaker.

You groan, for once in a while you have truly broken your stoic facade. Your hand wanders over to the broom, ready to clean up the mess advertised to you.“If Jessie was smarter than this, then she really–” An unnatural sound had struck you from your focus, you turn to see CatNap laying on the floor, legs folding and head tucked just like a true cat would be in. You could never get over how wide of a gaping mouth that he wears.

“So silent.” You whisper, rolling your eyes as you go back to focus on cleaning up the mess in front of you.

You wished you were more prepared to be faced with the grievances of his appearance nevertheless, but he was simply an animatronic, nothing you couldn’t handle. They just wanted you to take care of him, make sure all was working correctly and right. Couldn’t help the fact that he too was an insomniac just like you. The superiors certainly had an eye for pairing people and things together, but you weren’t sure how well you get along with CatNap.

Strangely enough nonetheless, CatNap seemed to be so lifelike for being a giant animatronic. Nothing to mull over anyhow, you just wanted to get your job done.

His presence was a comforting one though, you could multitask and get jobs done quicker that way. You never really hung around in one place for long, neither had he, only in the case of actually being seen sleeping on-top of one another – like a cuddle pile. Like many of the smiling critters, he had an assigned smell, something natural that they would emit.

You really liked the lavender, however you would never admit that to anyone but just you and him. It was comforting, which had helped you to sleep most of the time. Help anyone be unlucky to cross paths with you when you didn’t get your much needed sleep. Your emotions were much more terse and more so colder when you haven't slept properly.

You continue mopping the mess in front of you, sweeping it into the bucket and letting it dry after a few uses. “CatNap, get yourself up. Need to move to the next location.” He rumbled and purred, shaking himself off as he sat up, hind legs folding into a straight stance. You almost forgot how large CatNap and the rest of the smiling critters were.

Speaking of which, you had needed to check in on with DogDay’s caretaker. You didn’t want the sunny dog’s caretaker to be lagging behind in their duties, no doubt with the children however. Something to worry about when you are finished with this anyhow, you need to maintain your work ethic. Which seemed to be ridiculous in hindsight, but you were being paid, and the colorful themes and the children in Playcare placated your being for a moment's time of peace.

You walked and walked, weaving effortlessly as you have before so many times. You recall your superiors, saying that you had a better planning of one’s time to get your own work done. Which in turn had raised your paycheck, surprisingly that had happened for once in your life. Your efforts being recognised and being paid like you were supposed to be.

“I’m gonna assume you're crawling on the side wall,” You sigh, holding the mop firmly in hand as you walk along the hallway. Posters and plenty of colorful lines decorated the walkway, “CatNap try not to hurt yourself, we don’t need a repeat.” You raise your brow, tone steadied to be a monotone one. A loud rumble was emitted in response, your once lifted head had dropped back to level with satisfaction.

He isn’t much of a talker, You thought to yourself, steps echoing throughout. Yet the only thing buzzing in your mind was your thoughts. Not like DogDay anyway, did they design him to be cordially mute or something?

Your hand turned the knob, and you had opened the door to be met with pedestrians, and the usual guests. Many of which–rarely–are looking to adopt the children from the orphanage, children get lucky to have good parents. Or otherwise, people who just parent poorly. You sympathize with the poor souls. One case had steadily reminded you of these circumstances, nothing of adoption, just something similar.

Nothing to mull about, just continue working. Company policy is company policy, it simply isn’t your place to intervene at any rate.

Your plait legs had easily worked through the crowds of people, nobody had bothered to pay attention to you as it was common to see people at work. You were without any grief fortunately as you didn’t like to be bothered by people, it was unnecessary and crude ‘less they truly had reason to take up your time.

A hand tapped your exposed legs, of course, you were wearing white jean shorts (nothing obstructing, or cause of dress code). You turn around and sigh, ready to be fined for your defiance of your dressing. To your shock, it was just a child. One of them from the orphanage you assume.

She shifted on the balls of her bare feet, dirtied by the floors of the hallway. Indecent adults, you’d have to come back to this area later.

“Um..” Her small voice came out, laced with nervousness and worry. “I think someone got hurt.” You raise a brow, bending down to be eye level with the child. You ease yourself to appear calm and less temperamental, you didn’t want to give her a freight. Slowly you spoke, “Who got hurt?”

You nod your head, almost as if you were titling your head in a questioning manner. “Can you tell me dear?” She shook with a nervousness that had taken you by surprise, you took her by the waist and hoisted her up to your level. The small girl clutched onto your chest as she steadied herself to speak again, “Ah.. it was the unicorn lady.” You feigned a look of exasperation, holding her close to reassure her.

“I’m sure Craftycorn is just fine,” You knit the lapels of her outfit into a tight twirl. Suddenly you had received an idea, “Hey, I’ll go check on her. That okay?” She nods, you set her back down. The young girl had waddled away to where she had come from, she was certainly instinctive no doubt. Making all the way here like that, simply would violate health codes.

You look back up at the shadowed ceiling, noting how the hallway was mostly desolate of guests. “Go on ahead, gotta check.” You jab a thumb in the general direction, referring to the silent and giant cat. You assume he had taken into precaution what you were indicating and had obeyed your command. This was gonna be a hassle, but you had to take caution of the well-being of the other smiling critters should the original caretaker of that smiling critter be out for the day (or moment for that matter). You weren’t close to Craftycorn’s caretaker, but it was unfortunately on your end you were far more work-oriented. This job has kept you afloat.

Getting there wasn’t much trouble, it seemed there were already other more qualified workers to attend to Craftycorn. Yet something about her seemed amiss, it startled you even once you had gotten a closer look. You didn’t want to believe it to be true, why was she bleeding?

Animatronics shouldn’t be able to bleed.

Why is she bleeding?

The girl was right.

Oh no.

The toys are alive, CatNap was real, DogDay was real. Everything that DogDay’s caretaker had told you was nothing but the absolute truth, you should’ve realized it before. Playtime Co. Factory was nothing what it seemed, what the hell were you getting yourself into?

You couldn’t just come to this realization and walk away pretending you knew nothing about it, this was startling. All those children that had been whisked away before – you thought they were adopted, no, they were experimented on.

With a heavy breath, you turned and walked away. You didn’t want to stay there any longer then you had to, you didn’t want to know this. Why were they doing this? so cruel to the children and adults alike. You had thought better of Elliot Ludwig, now whatever image you had of the founder was erased.

Soon enough, you were back at your work station with CatNap at rest. You mulled about what to do; telling wasn’t an option, trying to shut it down neither.

You turned on your swivel chair, directing your line of sight right at CatNap who had no care for your eyes laying to rest upon his body. ‘Did it happen to you too?’ You remember a child from before, you only saw him before. Very briefly from amongst the distance as you weren’t a caretaker of any of the children. Would explain Ms. Harper, she was quite different, you remember she was interviewed by the superiors. Never in your life had you been so stricken by thoughts, troubling sure, but it was disastrous enough as is.

What is Poppy Playtime?

Your superiors had taken notice of you uncovering more and more of Poppy Playtime’s secrets, it would be unconventional that they may be leaked to the public. So they had fired you, it was in opportune fortune that CatNap had liked you so much. A perfect friend, a perfect caretaker.

Much to the disdain of CatNap is when you have been fired, removed.

He had no reason to hold back on it any more, deciding to finally request to initiate the Hour Of Joy.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #x reader #catnap poppy playtime #catnap #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime dogday

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maidenvault · 13 days

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Okay so, Crosshair’s hand.

Has anyone pointed this out? When Crosshair kills Nolan, he doesn't use his shooting hand.

He uses his left. Just as he very significantly has to in the series finale.

I don't know if the writers knew as far back as "The Outpost" that Crosshair was going to lose the use of his shooting hand and by extension everything he believed made him strong, a "superior" clone, and safe from being discarded when he was kind of fascism-pilled. But it feels extra significant in retrospect that his first action taken against the Empire is not done with the hand associated with the terrible things he did as an Imperial sniper. And it's after he just got a difficult lesson about how his own personal strength and skills aren't enough to protect him - he was saved twice by Mayday, then possibly only survived through the night because he wouldn't leave him behind and could share his body heat. He may be using his left hand when he shoots Nolan because his other arm is tired from supporting Mayday all the way back, which only adds to the symbolic touch I love that Mayday is using his rifle as a crutch to help him walk as well (and of course, he's at close range so quite meaningfully Crosshair doesn't use the rifle to shoot here either). It all supports the idea of this as the first huge moment of transformation for Crosshair when he's finally turning his fire on the real enemy out of a desire to protect others, however futile and too late it is in this particular situation.

Going back and noticing this really reinforced for me that Crosshair's hand injury probably isn't just meant as a manifestation of his trauma related to Tantiss. It would make sense considering it's his shooting hand that it also has something to do with his inner conflict regarding his changed relationship with violence and killing.

The Batch were introduced as these stereotypically macho soldier characters, an impression that's softened a little as early as the pilot of TBB but still distinguishes them a little from other clones. In a kind of funny way you can look at the whole series as being about these guys who were only brought up to fight gradually discovering and finding peace with their more traditionally feminine sides - literally because of Omega, a female version of themselves who shows them the possibilities of being a family and living for others instead of for violence.

For Crosshair this journey is much more difficult and like a painful rebirth than it is for anyone else because being a soldier was so much of his identity. He's always been the one to most pointedly distinguish his squad from regs because of their "superior" traits that he thinks will make the Empire value them, and he clearly internalized the way the Kaminoans only care about clones as weapons to be used in war. And it all betrays how little value Crosshair actually believes he has deep down. It was easy to go into S3 being especially worried about his fate because he's believed so long that he's not good for anything but fighting and he's the character it was the hardest to imagine adjusting to a different life.

But in retrospect, it was stupid to think they'd let him off that easy and of course the whole point is that it takes a lot to get him there. What exactly he went through on Tantiss beyond the electroshock torture we've seen is never delved into but personally, I think being a soldier is something that's poisoned for Crosshair after he becomes a victim of the Empire himself and subject to their attempts at reconditioning. He's not psychologically able to be that person anymore, but for a long time is still trying to largely rely on himself and his own strength. He tries to sacrifice himself for others because he's still holding onto that part of himself in a way.

But for once in Star Wars we've gotten a fully realized redemption arc showing that sometimes what's harder than giving your life in a redemptive way is to actually have to figure out how to live with the bad things you've done and be better. Some of the people Crosshair hurt were his family, and he has to learn he can only make things better by being there for them. He has to learn that he actually can survive and figure out a way forward from his life as a soldier if he lets himself rely on them, just like he only survived Barton IV with help from Mayday. As @moonstrider9904 explains so well in this post, that is what's so important about Crosshair losing the hand and making that final shot to save Omega with Hunter's support. Symbolically he's had that toxic part of himself actually cut off and it's the final, most painful part of his rebirth. But because of that he's forced to find that he can live on without it, that he's surrounded by people who love and believe in him anyway, and that having superhuman skills as a killer was never what gave him worth.

No, having his shooting hand cut off doesn't "fix" anything or mean that Crosshair is healed. He's probably only begun to recover from everything he's been through. But all we really need to see is that he's firmly found his place as part of a family instead of a squad, and he's not going to be alone as he deals with all of that.

#the bad batch #the bad batch meta #crosshair #tbb crosshair #commander mayday #star wars #meta #my meta

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satorisoup · 15 days

Text

“ 𝓐𝓝 𝓐𝓟𝓟𝓛𝓔 𝓐 𝓓𝓐𝓨 ! ”

ft. satoru gojo

cw : fluff. confessions. surprise smooch. writers block hit me like a bus i fear… </3

wc : 614

“ satoru, you’re gonna knock down the whole tree doing that ! ”

you tried to warn him, you really did. but satoru has his own way of doing things, and if apple picking meant shaking the entire tree by the log, then so be it.

the rustle of the leaves and hard thump is followed by a loud “ ow ! ”, and you can only guess that satoru had been bonked in the head by an apple as he rubs the pain away.

“ that’s what you get for trying to man handle mother nature. ”

the pout that takes over his face at your words is humoring, priceless even, as he scoffs at you, or the tree, who really knows.

“ i thought an apple a day was supposed to keep the doctor away ! ” satoru remarks, whine in his voice and squint in his eye has he stares at the culprit, a big red apple on the hayish ground.

“ yeah well, you’re about to be sent to the doctor by one if you do it like that. ”

satoru lets out a dramatic, long sigh, expressing his defeat as he moves to pick up the bruised red apple from it’s place.

“ also, that saying isn’t totally untrue y’know. apples are healthy. ”

in retrospect, satoru agrees. they are healthy. but the one thing that betrays him, disagreeing to his demise, is his mouth and the words that expel from it like a nonstop waterfall.

“ hm, well apples are dumb. all i know is, if we were dating, i’d keep you healthy. you wouldn’t have to rely on some stupid fruit. ”

a pause, before an obvious question to make sure you heard him right.

“ what ? ”

“ huh ? ”

“ satoru. ”

“ that’s me. ”

there was no winning with satoru, stubborn as ever. you’re almost sure you heard him correctly, but you wanted him to say it again so your conclusion would arrive faster.

his face is turned away from you, probably embarrassed at the fact that he most definitely said that out loud, and you were not going to give up on getting your answer any time soon.

satoru wants to say it, loud and proud, right to your face. he feels his body tingling with a foreign feeling of nervousness, mustering up the courage to do so—

but you’re giggling before the words can even escape his big, loud mouth.

“ ts’ not funny ! ”

“ t-that apple must’ve bonked you rea-real hard toru’ ! ”

“ m’ not joking ! ”

“ o-oh really ? prove it then ! ”

oh, screw it.

in a flurry of impulse, satoru is grabbing the hand thats covering your giggles. a quick, deep hitch in his breath before he’s leaning down and doing exactly what you asked of him, proving it to you.

his lips connect with yours at the speed of light, your eyes widening in shock before the surprise dissipates into a tingle that rises from your feet to your spine.

your lips are soft, so soft. the taste of your strawberry chapstick is clouding his senses before he’s pulling back to look at you.

“ i bet an apple couldn’t do that. ” of course, you would expect nothing less from the infamous satoru gojo than to spoil a moment with one of his stupid jokes.

“ quit saying corny stuff or i might just have to kiss you again, toru’. ”

“ ooo you wanna kiss me again so bad— ”

“ you— shut your mouth ! ”

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ghcstao3 · 4 months

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Im currently watching brave and it’s given me brain worms hehe

It’s to do with the will o’ the wisp!

Either soaps been seeing them his whole life guiding him to the task force or after a rough mission, totally lost/injured and with no way to contact anyone they guide his way back to ghost :D

Thanks for everything you write it genuinely makes my day to read all your works!!

ooh i really like this. also- apparently will o' the wisps are actually Not good in folklore so i wrote a little twist to fix that ;)

Throughout his life, Soap's nan had always liked to tell him stories about the many malevolent creatures he should hope to never have the misfortune of encountering—kelpies, redcaps, sluaghs; just about everything that existed in his homeland's folklore.

A little cruel in retrospect, Soap thinks, but for a while he'd just understood it as his nan's way of ensuring her grandson was to behave. They were myths, old tales and explanations for the unexplainable, and he can appreciate the determination to share tradition.

But now, as Soap is stranded in thick woods after an operation gone awry, blood sticky on his temple and a bullet stuck in his leg, he's not so sure they were just stories. Not as he's currently staring down an unnatural wisp of light in the darkness, hovering just a few feet away from where he'd collapsed against the thick, gnarled trunk of a tree.

Will o' the wisp, his mind supplies. Omens of death, his nan had told him, like many other creatures and spirits. They appear to the weary and lost like himself, flickers of glowing blue light almost hopeful as they guide one along a seemingly nonsensical path—but instead of leading someone to safety, they lure people to their doom.

The wisp just floats, unmoving, as Soap sits frozen. He tries his radio to no avail, and realizes with a great dread that he only has two options: attempt to find his own way back to his team, to anyone, anywhere, with the great risk of only getting more lost—or follow the wisp in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, it may actually lead him somewhere useful, no matter how bad the destination. Soap could only hope that doom is something he can fend off with a gun.

His decision is made rather easily because... he supposes it doesn't really make a difference, does it?

So he pushes himself away from the tree and toward the light—it vanishes as soon as he steps toward it, but with another step forward, another wisp appears.

Soap limps along, following the wisps. They weave him through trees and take sharp, sudden turns, disappearing and reappearing endlessly as Soap pursues the trail they leave. His head is on a swivel with every sound that isn't the crunch of branches beneath his own boots, with every flash of movement in his periphery.

He feels like he’d been walking forever by the time the forest has grown less dense and the wisps fade away for good—and that's when Soap sees it.

The large, imposing silhouette. The hulking figure cloaked in black. The glimpse of a skull in the sliver of moonlight that had managed to break through the forest's canopy.

Soap swallows a laugh. The will o' the wisps must have led him to Ghost, not realizing doom would have only been certain for Soap had he been the enemy.

Funny.

Ghost spots him and raises his gun, pauses, then after a moment lowers the barrel.

"Johnny?" Ghost grunts. "Where the fuck've you been?"

Soap shrugs a shoulder, wincing as he steps closer. "Lost my way running from the facility. Comms were dead." He flashes a crooked grin. "Worked out though, aye?"

Ghost snorts. "Aye," he echoes. "C'mon, then. Exfil's waiting. Save your explanations 'til then."

Soap gladly follows, relief nearly exalting.

But as they walk shoulder-to-shoulder, Soap can’t help but cast one last glance back at the trees from where he had emerged.

He wonders if the wisps had really made a mistake. He wonders if maybe they hadn't been done leading him, but Ghost had gotten in the way.

Questions he'll likely never find the answers for.

But regardless, now in safe hands—Soap thinks he had better refresh himself on his nan's stories as soon as he gets the chance.

He doesn't know now, whenever they might come in handy.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

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groceryreceiptss · 6 months

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | j.p.

james potter x reader | word count : 7.2k | requested

↳ part one / part two ───✧₊∘

summary : james always said that you were his best friend and you always said that he was yours. but you didn't realize that the meaning of the words had changed for you until it was a week before the yule ball and you two were walking through the snow covered streets of hogsmeade (reader's pov)

contains : my writing (warning lmao), pretty cheesy. (childhood) best friends to lovers!! flufff, herbal tea slander (sorry if you like it), lots of out-of-place references (like pjo and spiderman, i'm SORRY, i can't help it). i’m never sure on what to put in here to be honest so just let me know!

a/n : soo i might have gone a biiiiit overboard and make it a two part! this one takes place in hogsmeade (mostly), told from reader's point of view. i'm planning for the second one to be from james' point of view and for it to take place during the yule ball (no promises on when i’m going to finish it though TT )

credits : lovelyy dividers by @cafekitsune, pins i used (1) (2) (3)

───────────────────────

The castle seemed to have its own separate life in December. Snow, trees, warm hearth, lights, candles, sweaters, hot drinks, and not to mention the food. The students always seemed to be reinvigorated by the time this month came too. Excited whispers floated the hallways in strings of exclamations.

This year, they were way louder than usual though. And the reason for it was visible in every room. The vibrant yet elegant posters, the talks of elaborate plans, scenes of people asking and being asked (and the cheers that would follow it), conversations of suits and dresses, and absolutely nonchalant talks of dates and hopes.The Yule Ball.

This extravagance of the event only happened once in every four years, so of course, everyone was excited. Nothing could be more thrilling than a chance to live out your silly teenage dreams and be like one in the movies.

You loved it too. The smiles, the laughter, the gossip, the drama. It was fun, though you weren't expecting much for yourself. You weren't being a downer or whatever (which was what James would definitely tell you), it was just that, if truth be told, you had learned not to hope too much in anything. Retrospective had taught you a long time ago that it would only tarnish the joy out of a perfectly good moment.

Today was a festive Saturday morning. Talks of the ball were echoing off the walls in a more persistent way than ever. Understandable for they only had a week left before the festivities, anxiety and anticipation were sure rising.

You were just about to enter The Great Hall, the comforting smell of good breakfast already reached your nose, before someone suddenly threw their arms around you from the back, throwing you off balance a bit, his warmth enveloping you. James Potter.

Funny how someone's laugh could be so familiar to one's ears.

"How are you in this fine lovely morning?" The bespectacled boy greeted you as you turned around, eyes meeting his, your lips turned upward mirroring his smile. He really did have the most annoying charming smile. It was infectious.

"Freezing to death," you responded, slinging his arm around your shoulders as both of you walked the rest of the way to the hall. "Where are the others?”

"Already there," he scoffed, and continued on dramatically, "They left me to fend for myself!"

"To be fair, you are a heavy sleeper."

"You're one to talk," he grinned at you, "Why do you think both of us are the last ones to arrive?"

And he hit it right. You straightened up, ready to defend yourself. "Well, look–"

But he was way ahead of you. "Good book?" he smiled knowingly. And right again.

"So good," You nodded your head vigorously. "You should read it sometimes. I'll add that to your list." You waved your hand away casually, as if to say ‘done and done.’

"I look forward to reading it."

You smiled up at him, agreed. "Good, because you must." And before you could stop it, you went on telling him all about your reading from last night.

He didn't seem to mind, he never did. In fact, he always seemed to be interested in everything you had to say, so you continued. It had become a routine. You told him about a book he had never heard of, he told him about a match you had never watched.

James Potter was your best friend. Always had and always would be. The two of you had known each other since you were five and knew nothing and everything. Both of your parents had been best friends and it just progressed naturally. They would often spend the holidays and breaks together and so his house was yours as much as yours was his.

And when both of you got the Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven and were sorted into Gryffindor, it was inevitable that you grew even closer. Everything about him had become so familiar now. It was like you knew him at the back of your hand.

His favorite color, his favorite food, his favorite song. How his eyes brightened a bit when he laughed. The dimples that came with his smile. How he would bite his lip a bit when McGonagall caught him and his friends in their mischievous schemes, or when he was thinking of a lie to tell her.

How he liked to put his arm around your shoulder, or tucked it in the inside of your arm every time he saw you. His glasses that were always lopsided, and his hair that was always tousled. Just like it was right now.

Both of you sat down in front of Remus and Sirius, who were laughing about something. Crisp toast, bacon, and eggs on the plates completely abandoned. You eyed them closely and wondered how two people could be so oblivious to one another when they were sitting that close to each other. And look at Remus! He was almost red.

If only you did not have a sense of decency and could have it in you to interfere with these two, then maybe, just maybe, they'd finally admit their feelings and go to the Yule Ball together.

"Where's Wormtail?" James asked them, getting himself a plate of eggs and sausages. You decided to grab some toasts, marmalade, and some eggs.

"Don't know," Sirius shrugged. "Probably hatching a plan to ask Jane out."

"Doesn't she already have a date?" You asked him, confusion on your face.

"Not sure," Remus chimed in, "it's hard to keep track these days." True that.

The four of you talked some more. You and James tried multiple times trying to get these two to talk about their dates to the ball—or more like the lack of it—and did a bait and switch. And you were good at it, but boy were they better.

After their plates had emptied, Remus said that he was going to make a quick run at the library and Sirius, very subtly and casually, offered that he could come too because he was "bored." You and James could barely contain your smiles until they disappeared out of view.

He grabbed a bit of your toast, put some of his fruits on your plate in exchange for it, and asked, "So... what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who are you going with to the dance?"

"Oh," you pondered a bit, biting one of the strawberries. "I don't know. I'm thinking of going by myself, maybe? I think it'd be fun."

"No one has asked you yet?" He asked, surprised.

You let out a laugh at his expression. "Don't pretend to be shocked now, James. I don't exactly have a line of people waiting to ask me out."

"People here have bad tastes then.” He concluded.

You shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’d be a pity spending the night with some stranger I don’t know, or even like, anyway. What about you and Lily?”

James' die-hard affection for the red-head girl was never a secret. The entire school knew it. It had been going on since first year and you doubted it would ever stop.

The way he always talked about her — with so much fondness and care. It was, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she talked. But you noticed the way he looked at her too. It was like he fell in love every time he laid his eyes on her.

You figured that he was going to at least work up the courage to ask her out to the ball, even if it would only end up in vain, but no news from him so far. It was weird, like a sudden change of the weather. You had had to endure listening to him for what seemed like ages after Lily talked to him for the first time. And then another and another and another about his failed attempts at asking her out. What's with the quiet and silence now?

Was the fact that she turned him down again for the dance hurt him that bad? Oh, now you felt guilty for asking.

What was so strange, though, was that there wasn't sadness on his face now. No hidden pain or aches. Instead, he said, ever so casually, your toast in his hand "I haven't asked her yet."

You were taken aback, shocked, eyebrows scrunched up. "What?"

James' fruitless efforts with Lily was also very much widely known, but he was never ashamed of it. You couldn't remember the last time he passed an opportunity to confess his— as he said it —undying love for her.

"What, what do you mean you haven't asked her out?" You sputtered out.

He chuckled nervously at your response, raising his hands in trying to calm you down. "Is it really that surprising?"

"Considering the fact that you, James Potter, have been after her for like forever and never faltered in his efforts to make her know that he is head over heels for her, then I'd say, yeah. It's pretty surprising." You responded, baffled. "What changed?"

"Nothing! I just figured that she'd turn me down anyway and didn't bother. And then I heard she already accepted someone else's offer anyways." he shrugged.

"Oh," you put his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

James squeezed yours in return and gave you a smile. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm fine, honestly." he assured you. “I think it might be for the best.”

Though you didn’t believe that, he did look fine. And James was never one to hide his feelings from you— in fact it was the total opposite, he was always ever so dramatic — so you took his words. You bit your lip and asked, "You want some tea?"

"What is it this time?" He asked as he took a bite of the egg.

You grabbed one of the teacups and gave it a sniff. "Oh," you scrunched up your nose from the smell, "Herbal, I think." you put it down. "That's a no then."

He groaned, "Why couldn't they just serve normal tea?"

"Because then we won't have a ‘refined’ palate." You rolled your eyes, quoting something Madam Pince had told you in the library for what seemed like a long time ago.

"That's a silly excuse for serving only herbal tea at breakfast."

You couldn't say that you disagree.

"So,” he started. “What are you doing today? Any plans?"

"No,” you shook your head, “Nothing much." You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and passed the jug to him. "I'll probably just read. You?"

He poured one himself and grinned at you. "That depends, you want to go to Hogsmeade?"

"Uh-oh," you let out a laugh, sensing trouble. "What are you up to?"

He gasped dramatically. "What do you mean ‘what are you up to?’ I am offended.” He placed a hand on his chest for good measure. “Could it be possible that maybe I just want to spend the day at Hogsmeade with my best friend?”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

He laughed. “I’m not going to do anything, honestly. And It'll be fun, I promise!" he nudged you. "We haven't gone there in a while." Well, that was true.

"It's cold," you argued.

"I have an extra coat if you want double."

"It will be very crowded."

"Then we'll find some place no one knows."

"That's impossible."

"Anything is possible, love. Please." He pleaded, looking at you with his big doe eyes. It was so unfair of the world to give someone such gorgeous brown eyes and left the others to dust. So unfair.

You sighed, letting out at last. He would be the death of you one of these days. "Fine," — which brought a whispered "Yes!" from him— "But we're going to have to visit the quill shop."

"Consider it done."

──────────────────∘

Hogsmeade was truly beautiful in the winter. Its snow-covered roads, the orange lights visible in every shop, and the chattering crowds in their coats and scarves. Though the hits of cold wind on your face made you shiver, you were glad that you decided to go. And that you were with James. His arms around your shoulders provided you warmth just as much as his breath on your cheeks did.

As promised, both of you visited Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. James had complained at first and tried to negotiate by saying you should "save the best for last" and head to Zonko's instead to open the trip, but after both of you saw the line the place'd formed, he agreed that maybe quills were more fascinating.

"Why are there so many types of ink?" he whispered loudly at you as he examined the shelves, "Who cares if it's lavender purple or lilac purple? They're purple!"

"Lots of people do." You answered before quietly squealing to him after finding a rare gem. "Look!"

You pushed the ink bottles to his face so he'd read the label. "Rainbow ink?"

"Rainbow ink!" You nodded excitedly.

"You do not need rainbow ink, love." He shook his head but couldn't force back the affectionate smile that had appeared on his face.

"Just like you don't need those hand-biting teacups or whatever from Zonko's, and yet here we are." You hummed giddily as you grabbed one of the brand new boxes of rainbow ink from the shelf.

"It's nose-biting teacups— please don't take the fun out of it," he corrected you, "and yes I do need it! It's fun! Trashy fun, but fun!”

"Whatever you say, love." Something caught your attention and you immediately grabbed the cuff of his shirt. "Oh! Let's look here!"

With the rainbow ink tucked safely in your coat pocket, you and James walked out of the shop and visited Zonko's. He recounted all of the items he had once bought and how he had used them up, mostly with Sirius. He ended up getting something called Inflatable Tongue (for what you didn't want to know) before both of you walked out.

You turned to him with a glint in your eyes. "Honeydukes?"

He returned the mischief and grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Time?"

You thought it over, looking at the clock nailed onto the wall of the shop through the glass.

“Five minutes,” you pointed out. “Letter?”

"B,” he decided as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "Ready?"

"One..." you looked over at him, I'm going to obliterated you.

"Two…”

“Three.. Go!" you declared before both of you ran to the brightly colored store.

You and James had many traditions. This was one of them.

The challenge was simple. You only had to find as many candies as possible that started with the decided letter in those few minutes.

It had started with a silly argument in second year, about who knew more about sweets and, later on, the knowledge of Hogsmeade's own candy shop's stocks and products. You only had been able to visit by third year of course, and the real game had only begun there, but the fire was already established way before.

Your friend, Marlene, thought it was stupid, and so did the rest of the Marauders, but there was something to be said about the similar stubbornness you two had. Sirius had said they were eerily alike.

You and James entered the shop with thrill and jumpy nerves, but were still decent enough to try not to run like little children that would definitely result in getting kicked out. Like that time both of you visited those muggles candy stores over a summer when you were younger. Lessons were learned.

You immediately went to the right part of the store, claiming the territory. Directed by your decision, James went to the left.

You knew the store well. James didn’t know it, but you had been visiting this cheerful shop a lot recently. Mostly because Mary was so down after her breakup with her toxic ex and these treats are one of the things that could cheer her up. But on the side, you had done your research. The Bs were on this side of the store.

Bolandi’s Exquisite Crystallized Pineapple. Blood-flavored lollipop. Bat’s Blood Soup? Gross. And some chunks of brownies.

Five minutes passed, and with James only got Bertie’s and bubblegums, you came out of the shop victorious.

You jumped and threw your hands in the air. “And miss y/l/n won again. Thank you, thank you.” You bowed to a nonexistent audience.

He only smiled at you. “Don’t be so proud now. Remember, miss y/l/n, I am still the running champion here. 3-2” he reminded you with a smug smile on his face.

You shrugged. “That won’t be hard to feat, you mark my words.“ you offered him a look into your paper bag. “Want to try some?”

“What’s new?”

“Bat’s blood soup.” Your nose wrinkled at the name. “He said that it’s actually chocolate, but the name is too off putting.”

“It’d be good with strawberries,” he offered. “We can grab some from dinner later.”

You nodded your head as both of you made your way through the village. “I think Mary would like it too anyways.”

“Oh, right.” James said. He and Mary weren’t close but they were friendly, especially from being past neighbors and all. “How is she these days?”

“Better every day I'm sure. It’s for the best, Matt’s an asshole.”

“We can only hope that that itching powder will find its way real soon.” he grinned at their latest form of tricks. “Or maybe during the Yule Ball actually. That would be so much better.”

You snorted. “Usually I would say that’s cruel, but he deserves it. We thank you for your service.” You continued solemnly.

He waved his hand as if tipping off his hat. “And you are so very welcome.”

Both of you walked through the well-lit village. Talking about everything and nothing, laughing at that student making a fool of himself in one of the shops, and slipped some bites of the crystallized pineapples.He asked you about how far into the book you were now, and you asked him about his Quidditch team and whether the newest member– someone from year two, you believed–was still afraid of heights.

James had his left arm around you and your gloved hands were holding his–the one near your neck–fighting for some sense of warmth. You and James hadn’t done this in a while and you’d forgotten how much you missed it. You looked up at him as he was talking about the second-year boy and saw the flecks of snow scattered on his face, his askew glasses, and his jet black hair. It made him look a tad bit adorable, you thought. His brown eyes that had that bit of green in them were alight with something so charmingly infectious that you couldn’t help but smile.

You looked at him as he talked about the latest match, his right hand going everywhere as he was talking at the speed of 893 miles per hour. You loved seeing him talk excitedly about something. There was just something so beautiful in hearing the people you cared about talk about things that they cared about so passionately and ardently, no matter how trivial they may be. It was like you were trusted enough to see this crazy side of them. It’s nice.

A group of third-years passed by and you heard them complaining about not being able to go to the ball yet. Something about dances, dresses and suits, and dying alone.

"Oh," you fought a smile to keep it from surfacing as you remembered a particular last week incident. “How are your dance moves coming along?"

He groaned. “Not this again. You're trying not to laugh."

"I'm not!" but a chortle escaped you either way. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I know you're trying your best."

"I am!" he whined. "It's just really hard and Padfoot isn't exactly the best dance partner for practicing," he grumbled.

"Steps-on-you-shoes kind of bad or doesn't-catch-you-after-the-spin-that-you-end-up-falling kind of bad?" You said with a smile and with raised eyebrows.

He rolled his eyes as he revealed a sheepish smile. As if he could forget. "I said I'm sorry."

“I know. but it was right there. I couldn't not do it.”

A week ago, in the empty common room at night, James had asked you to teach him the basic dance steps most people used for the ball. Despite his mother's graces for it, you found that her son was very much an amateur.

He kept stepping on your foot and collided with you as he took the wrong directions. You were laughing and kept saying that it was fine, but he still apologized every other second of it.

The ending to the attempts was a disaster. A playful one for you, but he seemed very embarrassed of it. You had suggested the spin—and honestly it was your fault to have recommended it in the first place when it had only been an hour and a half—and as he tried to pull you back, he might have tugged your hand a bit too hard and you ended up crashing into one another. Your figure on top of his, his hands on your waist.

His cheeks had turned slightly red, and yours had grown hot as the fall stopped and you found your face so close to his. Your eyes inevitably found his brown ones and you felt his rapid breaths on your skin. His eyes have a little bit of green in them, like stars, your mind wandered before catching yourself. You let out a slight awkward cough and tried to laugh it off as you made yourself stand up.

He gave you a string of apologies afterward, and although you had assured him that it was all in good fun, he never asked you to teach him again. You kind of wished he would, for reasons you couldn't quite explain, but you didn't want to push him when he had turned to Sirius to "let the failures just befall on him", as he'd said it.

"But, either way, have you improved under the capable hands of Sirius Black, Mr. Potter?" you asked him now, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, he's definitely not as capable as you." He gave you an admiring smile, and you almost looked away from it. Taking compliments was never one of your talents. Especially if you felt undeserved of it.

"Well, it might come to you as a surprise, but what we learned was the easy part. I'm an intermediate myself." Deflected and dodged.

He laughed. "Either way, you're still graceful at it. You know, the incident did happen again. With Sirius."

You snorted. "What?"

"Yeah. Luckily, it's still in the privacy of our dorm. so it's good."

"I'd give money to see that."

"Would never let that happen in a million years."

“With the way things are going, I might. The dance is a public affair.”

“I’d have to get better by next week then.” He said it solemnly like it was a promise, but he probably was kidding. That small child-like smile on his face said it all.

You had walked to the empty side of the village. You didn't think there was one, but the snow covered streets around you were scarce of people. Only a few passersby before they too disappeared into the warm shelter of a wooden shop. Just the way you preferred it.

A sudden thought crossed your mind and before you could even give it a second thought, your mouth decided to give it a voice. "You want to try again?"

He looked around, his snow flecked eyebrows raising, and his smile tinted with a hint of amusement. "Here?"

Well now you wished you hadn't. But, playing along was always better than an embarrassed "never mind, that was stupid" right?

"Well, yes!" you told him as if you definitely didn't have any second thoughts at all. "Almost no one’s here. Besides," You continued with a light feather edge on your words. "I heard it's freeing to dance in the cold December wind."

He shot you with one of his cheeky smiles. "Is that so?" before putting on his thinking face, a guess on the tip of his tongue. "Romance?" He ventured.

"Partly. It's a coming-of-age drama and such." You corrected him. "It's also on our winter list for this year you'll see."

"Can't wait." and he meant it. But only because, "I hope you'll also like that match tape I got of a muggles' football match. They're entertaining too to say the least."

After years of being best friends together, he had learned that you liked to talk in quotes from the books you'd read and the movies you'd watched. And after years of spending winter and summer breaks together watching and listening to the muggles' form of entertainment media, it was like you shared the same frequency. He could guess which type of movies or shows or songs you had probably heard the saying from, and you could guess which sport match did he reference that joke from.

It was a whole different game. Total number of players : two.

He stopped in his tracks, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, making your neck shudder a bit at the loss of warmth.

"So," he gave you a gentleman's bow—and a playful smile along with it—and offered his gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"

You almost let out a surprised laugh at the gesture. You took a ladylike bow, pinching the fabric of your invisible royal dress. "That depends," you said in an exaggerated accent, "are you able to do so without giving me a head injury?"

He returned the overplayed accent. "I shall make no promises. But, if i were to slip and let you fall, best believe I'd try my best to catch you."

On the usual days, you'd bring up Gwen Stacy falling into her demise in one of the remakes of the Spider-Man movies. How Peter wasn't able to catch her and she ended up dead. James would've gotten the reference—you had cried to him for hours after that first watch last summer—but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

And yet instead, you were here, trying not to let the invisible red take too much space on your already freezing cheeks. You smiled, and it was a smile you couldn't contain. Not like others. It was one that just kept going wider and wider the more you looked at the beam plastered on his face until it wasn't physically possible anymore.

James, your head echoed his name as you mentally shook your head. A soft laugh escaped your lips. What have you done?

“We’re going to look stupid.” You admitted.

“Hey, it was your idea." He reminded you, his hand still stood in the air.

"It was a moment of foolery." But you took it.

The wind had started to pick up its course again and caused the snow to fall rapidly. Under the glow of the streetlights, you two danced and laughed. It started off as an attempt to the formal dance two would usually use at a ball, but after one or two or seven missteps, you agreed that maybe you should start over.

There was no music to accompany you but there was a faint piano playing from one of the shops. It whispered gently with the wind that swept you and James' rowdy steps.

His laughters were echoing in your ears, into your mind. His breath was on your cheeks, and his gloved hand on your woolen one was a warming touch. His glasses were a bit askew, and a part of his hair that came out of his beanie was flecked with snow.

There was no rhyme nor reason to your steps or the placement change of your hands. It was so stupid and silly. One minute it was an amateur attempt at classic dances, and another you were fooling around as if you were at a house party.

It was nice. Like you two were five again and you knew nothing and everything. Childhood innocence, where have you gone?

There were a lot of things you were late to realize about your friendship with James. You guessed you didn’t really think much about a friendship that had started since you could remember. It had always just been there, all your life. So long that you couldn’t imagine a life without it. A steadfast thing, the most you ever had one with someone that used to be a stranger to you.

You couldn’t even imagine that now. James Potter, a stranger. It felt so wrong. You had known too much about him, he had known too much about you. He was memorized in your mind.

From his hazel brown eyes that felt like the warm hearth of your home every time you looked at them, to the quirk of his lips and the gentleness of his smile.

To his voice that had once become a soothing presence after you had had paranoid nightmares about one of the people you knew dying. To the sound of his laughter that accompany the hot days in June and the freezing weather of winter, like how it did right now.

How he would run his hands through his hair when he was frustrated or didn’t know what to do. Or how his handwriting looked and how the Gs and Ys are always so sloppy and how the Ss barely look like one.

And so many things. So many other things you couldn’t imagine living without. Maybe this was just you being too present in a moment that you couldn’t think of it being ripped away and making you not be there anymore, but you weren’t sure.

You looked at him, and it was like the rest of the world fell away. His eyes had stars in them and his cheeks were red from the cold.

Your thoughts raced in a hundred miles per hour as your breaths and the pulse in your veins tried to catch up. All of them were beating to get out of your skin and onto the snow. They all had the same jitters, the same sound, and the same beat. And they all were talking in one unison, a whisper of the name of the person in front of you.

James Potter. James Potter. James. Oh. Oh.

It was a moment too late before you realized you had not been watching your steps and tripped yourself over a good mound of snow.

“Woah, woah” You started as you fell forward onto the snow, with your hands still on James’.

You heard the soft thump of the snow hitting James’ head, as your body fell on top of his. The rough old material of his father's coat met with your similar one. Your eyes were inches from his and so were your lips. You didn’t know what to think, your mind just went blank at the sudden proximity.

You should— wait, what should you do? You should— right, oh my god, apologize!

Fighting your inner thoughts and denying its claims, you immediately got up. Maybe too quickly for nonchalance but your racing brain didn’t have time to think it through. Not when it was jammed with mixed and confused signals from your heart.

“James! I’m so so sorry!” you offered him your hand and pulled him to stand, brushing off the snow from his coat. “Sorry, I wasn’t in my mind for that one second. Sorry.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, or even look at him—which almost never was a problem before, at least not because of this kind of… thing— so you resumed correcting his lopsided beanie.

He just laughed though. All casual as if you didn’t just find a big revelation. “It’s okay, it’s fine.” He tried to assure you. But you still wouldn’t stop, so he took hold of your hands to stop them from fixing his woolen headwear.

Great, now you were forced to look at him. You just hoped the cold weather was still a believable reason to cover up for whatever your face may look like now. Flushed, probably. But hopefully not too embarrassed.

You looked at his face, a trace of mirth still on his lips that were so close to you a minute ago. His face was kinda red too, but it was probably because of the season.

“It’s okay,” he assured you again. “You know,” an end to his smile turned a bit more upward and you knew that a tease was coming. “You reminded me of an old me,” he continued breezily, “i made this same mistake too back then. When i was more foolish.”

You couldn’t help but let out a snort. James, james. Alright, just let things—and especially you—calm down a little, you told yourself. Let everything go back to normal.

“You mean a week ago, old man?” You lightly punched his arm, before dusting off the snow from your own coat.

“Time is relative. Miles Morales said it himself.” He said as he helped you brush the snow out of your hair and coat. “Or actually it was Ernest whatnot but whatever.”

You let out a breath of laughter as you shook your head. His glasses were crooked so your hands automatically went up to fix it. Like you had done so many times. “There. It was crooked.” You heard yourself explaining.

“Thanks,” he said with that stupid silly smile of his. You hated that smile now. How can one have such a charismatic smile? It wasn’t fair.

“No problem, wise man.” You responded with your new-found nickname for him, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Seaweed brain," He called back, and that made you smile– you didn’t even realize it.

You gave him a nod of approval. "The Percy Jackson reference. Touché."

"I've learned sooo much from you." He said solemnly.

"I know." You smiled up at him. And he looked right into your eyes, that blinding smile of his radiating onto them before suddenly averting his gaze onto the ground, where evidence of your very own accident made a mark on the snow.

James rubbed his hands together, searching for warmth. "Hey, you want to go to the Three Broomsticks? It’ll probably be emptier now.” He offered, like he always did because he was your friend. Your best friend since you could remember.

You didn’t know why you were acting weird. It was only an hour ago when everything was normal. You didn’t know how everything could just change in a matter of seconds. He was your friend, it would be okay. However this would unfold, everything would be fine. Both of you had always overcome things before. It was with James, you two would get through it. You were grateful to have him.

“Oh yeah sure.” You agreed. Wait, was that too quick of a response? Oh fuck it. He was your best friend, he had known you all his life too—which was exactly why if there was something off with you, he’d definitely be the first person to notice it, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. You shook your heads to clear all maddening thoughts. “Have you heard from Frank? Haven’t gone there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah he’s great.” He continued in a whisper, “I heard he has just received a new package of fire whiskey and Sirius and I are hoping to get a snatch of it or two. You know, for the house.”

“Right, for the house,” You rolled your eyes.

He lent out a hand to you, "Shall we?"

You took it and he gave it a soft squeeze, its grip sending vibrations through your bones.

"We shall."

───────────────∘

James was right, it wasn't as crowded as it would be if you had come earlier. Most people here had their drink and company either at noon or late afternoon and night. 3 pm wasn't exactly a busy hour. Though there were still too many people and noises for your comfort, you and James could at least find a table for two in the corner, quieter spot.

He came to the table holding two butterbeers in his hand. Both served hot to minimize the cold. He slid yours down the table and took a seat in front of you. His glasses are turned slightly uneven again.

"So, y/n" he started as you picked up your drink and sighed at the heat it gave you. Your hands were absolutely freezing.

"Hm?" You responded, more focused on the comforting smell that radiated from your cup.

"I've been thinking," He continued, and now you looked up. You were so distracted before that you didn't notice how his hands were moving as if he were drumming his thighs under the table— a habit he often did when he was nervous.

You furrowed your eyebrows for a second but decided to ignore it. "Uh-oh. Nothing good ever comes up from that." You took a careful sip of the butterbeer, its warmth traveled all through your withered body. "New horrible trick ideas?"

He rolled his eyes, a breathy laugh came out of his lips. "Why is it that you always always think the worst of me, miss y/l/n?"

Just this morning, at the Great Hall, every part of you was functioning alright. Nothing going haywire. But now, there was a skipped beat in your heart and a flip in your stomach. You tried to deflect it but the butterflies couldn't be bothered.

"I don't always always think the worst of you James. I just know you." You did, you really did. You wondered if he knew it though.

"Well, I bet you wouldn't guess what's going to come out of my mouth this time." He claimed in a challenging tone.

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Five guesses." He grinned as he pulled up five fingers to illustrate his point. "No retracting."

"Alright then," You accepted the challenge. You silently thought to yourself before voicing it all aloud. "Wasn't a trick, so maybe you are... planning to do something to the Marauders? Like, I don't know, maybe get those two idiots together to the ball?"

He pulled down a finger. "You know, maybe I should. But that wasn't it. You were kinda close though."

Close where? “Sirius and Remus?”

He made a loud incorrect buzzer sound and pulled down another finger.

“Hey, that wasn’t-”

“No retracting,” he reminded you, as he took a sip of his own beverage.

“Not fair,” you grumbled. You thought about it again before guessing, “Oh! Yule Ball shenanigans? Oh wait no-“

Another buzzer sound, and two fingers left. “My, you really don’t know me, do you y/n?” He feigned a dramatic hurt on his face and a slight pout. “You’re close though.”

About the dance? What’s about the dance? “What, you’re going to skip the ball?” You said it as a joke but he wasn’t laughing. In fact, there was just a trace of truth in that smile of his when you said it. “What, I’m right?”

“No. But that depends actually.”

“You’re talking in riddles.”

“Yeah, it’s fun, isn’t it?” His smile had a slight smirk now, like it was still held back or something. “That counted as incorrect by the way.” He made another buzzer sound and one finger left.

You sighed in frustration. The Yule Ball, but it wasn’t about any tricks. So what? Oh. The realization hit you as you felt your heart drop. It was so silly, but bad timing, James. Bad timing.

“You’re finally going to try and ask someone else to go to the ball with you?” You voiced out your thoughts, hoping there wasn’t a hint that could suggest something else; reluctance and hesitation. What, did he meet her in the hallway before you two went out or something?

He pulled his lips together and gave you a small shrug. “Close,” he concluded. “But again that depends.”

You sighed. “Alright, fine. I give up. I surrender. Just tell me.” You almost pleaded with him.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Right. Best friend. Of course. You nodded. “Mhm.”

“So…” he stopped, like he was nervous to get the words out. That was weird.

A worse idea came to mind.Oh please don’t tell me he’s going to ask me to become his fake date for the ball to make Lily jealous, you silently desperately prayed. It would’ve been easy if it had been any other week before, but not this week. Not today. And specifically not at this hour, when you were still processing everything.

“Will you…” he continued hesitantly, his fingers playing with a loose thread on one of his gloves, a smile fighting to still be displayed on his lips. “Give me the honor and go with me to the dance?"

You said nothing, only slightly raised your eyebrows in surprise. That depends. You didn’t want to let the fireworks surround you. Skepticism came first, as it always had to.

But your silence seemed to jittered him, and he immediately jumped to explanation. “You know, because we’re best friends, and none of us have a date, and I don't know, I thought it would be fun? To go together. As friends. Casual thing. You know.” He shrugged.

You let out a smile at that, and it seemed to relax him a bit. Why was he so nervous? Of course you’d go with him. You were his best friend, and he was yours, he knew that. “Well, you are not a stranger I don't know or even like.” You joked.

He gave you a grin at that. “No, I’m not. So, you’d go? With me, I mean?”

He was cuter when he was nervous, it wasn’t fair. Why was he nervous again? You’d understand if it was you who were nervous, but why was he?

You couldn’t focus on anything besides the annoyingly loud flutter in your heart—and how hard you are trying to beat and stomp it to death right now. This doesn’t mean anything, it was just a friendly gesture. James was in love with Lily, there was no question, of course.

But you still felt the butterflies on your stomach go wild. You were fighting to contain that smile on your face, scared he’d figure out it wasn’t just any casual thing for you. You were going to the ball with your best friend and you realized there was no else you’d rather go with.

“Of course, James. You’re my best friend!” You smiled up at him, the warmth coming through your gloves from the hot drink was now small compared to the thrill that coursed through your body. “Though do you have a written contract for possible head damage compensation because I might need it.”

He shook his head, a slight relieved laughter came out of his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me because of it.” You were only teasing, but you thought he looked at you with such sincerity in his eyes that it jarred your senses a bit.

“Yeah, I do.”

───────────────────────

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter #marauders x reader #the marauders #james potter imagine #james potter fic #my writing!#hp #requested #harry potter imagine

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erynaster · 1 year

Text

I Don't Hate You

Summary: You and Wednesday attempt to patch things up after an argument. In a brief moment of transparency, feelings are brought into the open.

Word Count: 1,706

Warnings: Arguing

Pairing(s): Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader

A/N: Felt like having Wednesday display a more... soft side in this one. I hope you all enjoy!

"Wednesday's looking for you."

You look up from your evening porridge, where Enid hovers over you anxiously waiting for your response.

"Sorry?" You ask.

Enid takes a deep breath, exhaling nervously through her nose as she repeats her statement.

"Wednesday's looking for you." She repeats, eyeing you with a look of fright. "She... told me to tell you—well, if I saw you—that she wishes to speak with you. Alone."

You're genuinely puzzled.

"You're... sure? She actually said that?" You nearly chuckle in disbelief. Your girlfriend wasn't exactly the epitome of healthy communication.

"She did." Enid continues to look at you with a look that someone would give a person lying on their deathbed. "I've never seen her look more serious than how she was while ago. It seemed... important."

You take a moment to ponder her words. Wednesday would never ask to speak with you alone, unless it was something really grave or morbid that she had to have someone to share it with.

Or, maybe...

You can feel your heart dropping right to the pit of your stomach.

... Maybe she felt that things weren't working out between you two.

You sigh. Better to get it over with.

"Thanks, Enid. I'll go look for her now."

You stand up from your seat, grabbing your backpack from a nearby bench as you do. Before you can get far, however, Enid calls out your name.

"Y/N?"

You turn, facing a rather troubled-looking Enid. "Yeah?"

"What happened between you two?" She asks in hushed tones.

You sigh once more.

"We just had a little... misunderstanding, that's all." This, of course, was an understatement. You and Wednesday just had one of your worst fights in weeks. "I'll be fine, Enid."

This seems to terrify her even more.

"O-okay... just be careful, alright?"

"I will, thanks."

____________

Wednesday Addams stands by the edge of the balcony; feeling the cold, crisp air as it washes over her features. She's deep in thought, her mind replaying the exact same moment that's been on her mind since this morning.

"If you aren't going to be of any use to me, then I expect you to leave."

A curious feeling wells up within her. Guilt? She hardly knew the feeling. In all her years pushing down such trivial emotions, nothing quite made her insides squirm uncomfortably as the memory of your conversation did now.

In retrospect, perhaps she had been a bit too... harsh.

She sighs. Her words were only now coming back to haunt her.

"So that's all I am to you, huh? Some tool?" You had replied, clearly hurt.

"I did not say that. Do not make assumptions." She had chastised you, giving you a cold stare.

"Well what am I supposed to think, Wends? I can't be guessing all the time." You stated, shaking your head. "Sometimes, I wonder if you even do care."

"So you assume that I don't?" She had replied blandly.

"Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it." You huffed, turning towards the door.

There's silence.

"... Do you love me, Wednesday?" You had asked tentatively, doubt creeping in.

Wednesday's gaze had grown colder.

"Clearly, if you doubt me so much, then there is no point to this conversation." She turned, facing stubbornly away from you. "You may leave. Now."

The silence had been deafening.

"So you don't, then?" You had choked, tears forming in your eyes.

And at that precise moment, Wednesday's insides had squirmed with an incomprehensible desire, one that told her to express how she truly felt for you. However, she swallowed that primal urge as pride took over.

"Do not make me answer that question right now, Y/N. Please. Leave me be." Her tone was as cold as ice, which you took as your cue to leave that room at that very moment.

And that was that.

As the memory of your conversation draws to a close, Wednesday sighs. A sad, drawn-out sigh that was so unlike her.

She detested what you do to her. How you affected her this way. How you made her feel. Feelings were a trivial matter, she had decided from a young age.

But you?

You made her feel things that frustrated her, things that made her head spin and her heart pound. It was maddening.

She despised it. No, loathed it. She hated it so much that, during that one fateful day by the lake, she had accepted your advances of affection. She hated it so much that she had spent precious amounts of her time with you, talking and talking until she had realized that hours had gone by since you had started. Hours that she could've spent working on her novel.

She hated every bit of it.

She hated the way her heart hammered in her throat as she leaned in that night, just as you had done the same. The feeling of your lips tracing over hers...

She hated how it felt so right. So good.

Wednesday shivers.

But now? There was none of that. You hadn't talked all day, let alone spent any time together since your argument that morning. Wednesday hated how it felt, but not in the good kind of way.

For once, though she would never admit it...

She misses you.

What she wouldn't give to be able to stab herself at that very moment. The mere idea of "missing someone" was entirely foreign to her.

Until you.

A choking feeling wells up in her throat, one that she desperately tries to shove down. She would've succeeded, too, if it wasn't for the sound of a door opening up behind her.

"... Wednesday?"

She turns. There you stand, framed in the doorway, looking as though you're expecting the worst.

"I got your message from Enid. You wanted to talk?" You inquire timidly.

She nods, gesturing to the spot next to her.

You approach her cautiously, taking your place next to her by the balcony as the two of you gaze off into the distance.

The silence drags on for a good two minutes before Wednesday breaks the silence.

"I owe you an apology." She says simply.

You gaze at her in awe.

"It's okay." You blurt out, taken aback by her forwardness.

"No, it isn't." She shakes her head. She turns her cold gaze on you, and from what you can tell, this is taking a great deal of effort on her part just to be able to express herself this much. "Y/N, what I did was wrong. Rather, it's what I didn't do. You were a loving partner from the very beginning, and I failed to appreciate that."

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. This didn't sound like her at all.

"Wednesday, are you feeling okay...?"

She chooses to ignore this.

"Y/N..." She takes a deep breath, as though resigning herself to the worst. "You... You matter to me."

She looks pained.

Part of you is wildly unsettled by her behavior, while the other half of you finds it hard not to chuckle at her attempts to be expressive.

"... And?" You tease, pushing your luck a little bit more.

Wednesday gives you a cold stare.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." You laugh nervously. "It's just, why are you telling me these things now?"

Silence falls between you two.

"You need to know, Y/N, that despite the way I... act around you, I... I do not despise you. Far from it, actually."

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Would she finally be able to say it...?

"Yes, Wends? What is it?"

"Y/N..." She gulps, the first sign of nervousness finally setting in. "You should know that...that I..."

You can feel her resolve crumbling.

"That you what, Wednesday?" You press, taking her hand in yours.

She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. For a moment, she seems to teeter on the verge of saying, 'that I love you', but instead...

"I..." She averts her gaze, staring resolutely at the ground. "... I don't hate you, Y/N."

You can feel yourself deflate.

"Oh." It takes a moment for you to recover, but you pat her hand consolingly. You knew that she had done her best.

"Well... I don't hate you too, Wednesday." You smile encouragingly.

She glances up at you, gazing at you with a mysterious look in her eyes. To your surprise, she begins to edge closer to you, her gaze never once faltering nor breaking.

"Wednesday, what are you doing?" You chuckle nervously.

No reply. She continues to lean in ever closer, without ever flinching or averting her stare. Her dark, abyssal eyes gaze deep into yours as the distance between your faces grows smaller and smaller by the second, and by now her face is a mere two inches away from your own.

You're suddenly aware of what was happening.

"W-Wait—" You whisper, but to no avail.

You never get to finish your sentence as her lips gently press against yours.

It feels so good.

And so... right.

The way her lips pucker up and part to welcome your own just feels... intoxicating. Surreal. But before you can even register the kiss more fully in your mind, she pulls away, giving you another one of her cold, sharp-edged stares.

"Tell anyone of what just happened, Y/N L/N, and I swear I will skin you alive."

You chuckle nervously.

"I swear, I won't. You have my word."

Without thinking, you throw both arms around your goth girlfriend. To your immense surprise and relief, she doesn't recoil or pull away from your touch. Instead, she does something that surprises you more than anything that had happened so far that evening.

She hugs you back.

Wednesday slips both arms around you, holding you close as you caress each other underneath the light of the full moon. A cool breeze blows through, causing Wednesday to shiver slightly in the evening air.

"I don't hate you, Y/N." She repeats for the second time that evening, her voice muffled as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

You smile, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"I love you too, Wednesday."

Maybe things would work out between you two.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x male reader #male reader #self shipping #wednesday x male reader #gn reader #male!y/n #male!reader #gn!reader #gn y/n #netflix #wednesday addams #wednesday x you #wednesday x gn reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday imagine

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blainesebastian · 7 months

Text

missin' you

ship: austin butler x female reader rating: NC-17, NSFW word count: 2,576 summary: anon request "more jealous austin" warnings: none but def check the rating notes: this took on a slightly more possessive note, rather than jealous--still fun though :) taglist: @stylespresleyhearted, @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief

Here's the thing about being with Austin for three years, you know what makes one another tick. What you both love, what you both hate, especially what buttons to press. It's a long time filled with history and too many emotions to count. You've had moments where you didn't think you two were going to make it, stuff that's pushed you apart. But you always end up coming back together stronger than ever. You've been lucky like that.

There's chemistry with Austin that you've never felt with anyone else—the pull is undeniable. He drives you crazy in the very best way and that whirlwind makes your head spin. You love him, even though there are moments you want to pull your fucking hair out.

But you suppose that’s exactly what love is half the time.

You let out a soft sigh as you push the door to the bar open with your shoulder, wandering in on a busy night, eyes scanning to look for some space at the counter. You roll your head to the side, massaging the side of your neck as you squeeze past a few college kids yelling about shots. In retrospect, you probably should have chosen a slightly quieter place, a headache starting to brew at the back of your skull that isn’t being helped by loud music and stale beer but…

This is your shared bar and it’s somehow comforting to be here—the first date you ever had was here, and so many times after that. Magic space maybe. The last time you spoke with Austin on the phone, things were a bit short—he’s stressed from working, you’re stressed from not seeing him. You’re not about to pull the ‘girlfriend’ card, whining about spending time with eachother even though that’s exactly what you want to talk about.

You eye a girl at the end of the bar getting up and quickly take her spot before someone else can, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you settle onto the barstool.

“Lemme guess, bourbon on the rocks?”

You turn and look to your right, Austin leaning his elbows along the bar, already a drink in front of him. Your mouth opens a little, eyes traveling down the long planes of his back in a maroon Henley, hugging his muscles perfectly. He’s paired it with black jeans and honestly? it’s not fair. You’re surprised you didn’t even notice him before you sat down.

You lick your lips and fix your purse around your shoulder, tugging your dress up a little because it’s twisted awkwardly around your thighs. You doesn’t say anything for a moment before you nod and Austin waves down the bartender to give him your order.

“Funny running into you here.”

He smiles just a little, his eyes tracing over your curves down the dress; he doesn’t have to use words to tell you that he likes it. You swallow, your cheeks flushing and you hate that he’s so capable of taking you apart without even touching you.

“Well this is our bar, isn’t it?”

A soft laugh slips out from your throat and you look at the drink set in front of you, blush working its way to the back of your neck. “I’m pretty sure when I said that I was really drunk.”

He hums and lifts his glass of whiskey to take a small sip, teasing around his tone, “So you didn’t mean it, or?”

You roll your eyes, your hand wrapping around your glass of bourbon. You take a small sip and let the alcohol roll down your throat, a heated grip, soothing as it settles in your stomach. Whatever you’re about to say is drowned out by an extremely drunk guy bumping into you from behind. You know that the bar is crowded and it was bound to happen sooner or later but you hate that it’s enough to jostle your drink in your hand, liquid spilling over the edge onto your dress.

You gasp and the guy looks over his shoulder, laughs, and then gets manhandled by Austin who shoves him further down the bar. He quickly hands you some napkins so you can pat yourself dry, slightly distracted by the fact that the drunk guy comes back with his chest puffed out like he’s going to do something about it.

All Austin has to do is stand up from the bar stool, encroaching into your space a little as his one hand settles on the edge of the bar and the other dangles next to his side, fingers flexing. You look up at him as his chest brushes against your shoulder, a smile pulling on the edges of his mouth but you understand his body language well enough to know that he’s not amused.

And just like a shadow passing over the other guy’s face, he clears his throat and sinks back, apologizing to you in one quick word before making his way down the bar. You feel heat crawl underneath your skin as Austin sits back down and orders you another drink since the one that spilled is pretty much empty.

“You good?” He asks and you chew on your lower lip because yeah you’re more than good and nods your head.

Once again, you’re captivated by that side to Austin that’s a little bit rough, a little bit possessive and you can’t help but admit that even with this unspoken conversation hanging in the air? It’s nice to feel him express that towards you because if anything, he’s always been more telling with his touch rather than what he says.

You clear your throat and sit a little further back onto your stool, opening your legs just slightly before running a hand down the fabric of your dress which sits at the top of your knees. This is probably a bad idea, but you can’t seem to stop it once it’s entered your mind—and say something that’s going to very deliberately push Austin’s buttons.

“I want to finish our conversation from the other night,” Austin takes a sip of his whiskey, a soft crease appearing between his eyebrows before he realizes what you’re saying. “We’ve been together for three years and lately we’re not seein’ one another enough.”

His eyes scan over you like he’s somehow missed something important, his hand coming down to rest on your knee. “We’re seein’ one another right now.”

And there it is again, something electrically charged in the way he implies that little bit of sass, it reaches into your stomach and squeezes.

“No,” You says quickly and presses your knee just a little towards him so his hand moves. Austin’s eyes snap down to the action, his fingers now curled along your inner thigh and it takes him a moment to piece together what’s going on—

But once he figures it out? His gaze looks back up at you, filled with darkened amusement and he leans a little closer before picking up his whiskey glass with his other hand.

“I’m talking about real dates, real time spent,” You continue, your thumb running along the condensation of your own glass when the bartender brings you another. “Not shoving whatever we can into forty-five minute bar drinks.”

It’s always been amazing to you how calm and collected Austin can be; whether it’s during an interview, or a meeting, placing his whole being in front of a camera, ready to be someone else—and now it’s sneaking his hand up your dress in a public place.

His expression is unchanging, like he’s discussing the weather when he asks, “Oh, we don’t like those?” He asks, a soft smile tugging the corners of his mouth, “No time well spent?”

You’re about to reply to him but his hand moves quickly, the cool contrast of the ring on his finger making a shiver course down your spine. It’s almost surreal, doing this in a public bar—this is something you and him have never done before…and the concept is unbelievably thrilling. Your hips move forward, just a little, Austin’s fingers grazing the outline of your underwear against already moist flesh and the words get stuck very literally in your throat.

“You gonna answer me, or?” His voice is against the shell of your ear, raspy in a way that turns you on even more. And god, you don’t even care what you’re talking about anymore. Dates, no dates—who the fuck cares?

You clear your throat and pick up your glass of bourbon, trying to act natural, taking a slow sip and replying with a soft ‘no’ because that’s all you can manage. I want more, you want to say…but have no idea how to say it.

“That’s too bad…m’really beginnin’ to like these bar dates.” Austin licks his lips and hums, staring straight ahead like he’s not teasing your clit through the outside of your underwear.

He’s too good at this, you realize, like his hands were made for this. Like all he knows how to do is take you apart piece by piece, ripping at the seams and sewing you back up with love and care. Drives you absolutely crazy, how much you crave him, how much you love wrapping yourself up in him.

That’s why at the end of the day, you know both of you are going to be okay together.

You open your legs a little more, the fabric of your dress soft and wide at the bottom, allowing you to do it without becoming too noticeable. Still, it’s funny, the way you feel like everyone’s eyes are on the two of you but a quick glance around tells you that no one notices—which just makes heat pound faster at your center, Austin’s fingers finally slipping inside your underwear.

You nearly choke on your own tongue, coughing a moment before taking a sip of your drink and Austin smirks—the bastard, sliding his one finger inside of you and pausing so it doesn’t overwhelm you. How thoughtful. Your cheeks are flushed and your breathing is a little heavy, you can feel it, your paranoia making you re-position your purse so it’s over your lap even though the bar is dark and loud and no one gives a shit about you or him.

The bartender approaches you two with a menu, offering Austin a small smile, “Did you guys want any food? Kitchen’s closing up.”

He takes the menu like he actually cares, pursing his lips together as he scans the appetizer list. “I dunno, you want food, babe?”

Of course, of course he’s really going to make you answer, looking over at you with an innocent expression as his finger circles your clit. “I uh—” You glance at the menu but the words on the page don’t even register. Fuck you’re…

You roll your hips forward and makes it look like you’re shifting positions on the stool, Austin giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response, his finger picking up speed as heat starts to boil over inside of you.

“No, I’m not hungry.” You says quickly, running a hand over the back of your neck.

“I think we’re good.” Austin agrees, handing the menu back to the bartender, who’s giving you a once over.

“Sweetie, you look a little flushed, you want some water?”

A whine most definitely sneaks its way out of your lips but luckily you think the bar is too loud to really make it out and you suddenly sit up straight as pressure builds and builds, your hand coming down on Austin’s wrist and squeezing—hard—

“I’m fine, drank this a little too fast, I think. I’m going to splash some water onto my face.”

His hand slips free out from under your dress, not even looking at him as wobbly legs take you away from the bar and into one of single-stall bathrooms. Your feet are kind of sticking to the floor and it smells like stale beer and lemon soap and really, this is one of the last places you thought you’d find yourself in. You set your purse on the side, leaning against the sink and it doesn’t take him long to find you.

Austin sneaks inside and you watch him through the mirror, leaning against the door, his eyes equally trained on you. You turn, reach past him to lock the door and the moment it slips into place, your lips are on his.

You kiss him hard, Austin not wasting any time to pick you up and set you on the sink, his hand tearing your underwear off and throwing them to the side. His one hand clasps the side of your neck as your hands make work of his jeans, tugging them down and reaching inside to grip his cock.

He groans against the sensation, thrusting into your hand and you shift your hips so you’re closer to the edge of the sink. Austin moves his lips to your neck, suckling the skin there and a loud moan that you don’t try to hide slips from your lips as he slides inside you. Your clit is swollen and sensitive, your entire body aching for him to begin moving and he’s taking too fucking long—

“Please, Austin,” You don’t even care that you’re begging, fingers fisting the back of his shirt at his shoulders, “Please.”

He shushes you gently, arms wrapping around your back so that you’re as close to him as you can get before doing what you’ve asked. Unfortunately, because you’re so worked up, it doesn’t take you very long to cum—clenching down around him as you bury your face in his shoulder. Austin’s right behind you, thrusting until he loses it, his breathing rapid and heated against your neck.

He doesn’t pull out right away and instead presses your foreheads together, his hand cupping your cheek before your lips meet in a soft, intimate kiss. Someone banging their fist on the door that they’ve got to pee ruins the moment however and a giddy sort of laugh leaves your lips as you cover your mouth with your hand.

Austin smirks as he backs up, handing your underwear back with a few paper towels to clean yourself up before both of you inevitably have to unlock the door and leave the bathroom.

You walk out of the bar with your legs feeling like jello, not even remembering the conversation that took place on the stools to even continue but…once you get to Austin’s car, he gently turns you around to press you against the passenger door.

Smiling up at him, you kiss his jawline. Austin hums, cupping your cheek and kissing your cheekbone before, “You’re right,” He whispers, “We’re not seein’ one another enough.”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you’re drowning in endorphins,” You tease but god, you’re not gonna deny it feels good to hear.

“I mean that’s definitely part of it,” Austin grins, nuzzling your noses, “I’ll make more time for you—real dates, real time.” He coins, because apparently he was listening.

You smile, something bright and warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. Pressing yourself up on your toes, you kiss him. As wild and desperate your touches were in the bathroom, that’s how soft and loving your lips move now.

You suppose this, at the very least, is an upside of missing one another.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x female reader #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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