#it’s because i don’t know how to take part in conversations | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiding-writing · 2 days

Note

Hi congrats on the Milestone, for the event can i ask for prompts 15 and 16 (angsty ones) Ty! 💖💖

EAVESDROP [CLIMACTERIC]

/ˈiːvzdrɒp/

15. "You heard that?”

16. "I didn't mean it.”

WARNINGS: miscommunication (i hate and love miscommunication way too much), happy ending

spencer reid x gn!reader || fluff || 3.0k || event masterlist!!

a/n: when i said that these were going to be coming out slower i unfortunately meant it 😭 didn’t help that i had massive writer’s block with this one either rip—

main masterlist!!

You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You just happened to get to the office early that morning and figured it’d be an opportune time to make yourself some coffee.

But once you heard your name in the mix of the conversation that Spencer and Morgan were having you found yourself waiting around the corner until they finished what they had to say.

“—should just ask,”

“That’s awkward, besides, if I was going to then it’d have to be something more meaningful,” You can hear Spencer sigh in exasperation as he shuts down Morgan’s suggestion, and your imagination tells you he probably has his face furrowed almost in a pout like he usually does when he’s frustrated.

“Then plan something, you can’t just wait for something to happen, you have to take action man,” Morgan sounds determined in his beliefs, and it leaves you with a furrowed expression as you try and piece together what they’re talking about and how it relates back to you.

Spencer wants to ask you something. In a ‘meaningful’ way. Because he’s been sitting around waiting for something for too long.

What?

“I know that,” Spencer lets out another sigh, and you can hear the sound of his mug hitting the kitchenette counter. “I’m just afraid that they’re going to turn me down, okay? I really like them and I want this to go well,”

If their conversation was a tv show you would’ve rewound it to hear what Spencer just said again.

Spencer Reid. Dr Spencer Walter Reid just openly admitted to liking you.

There’s a major part of your brain that tells you that he just meant it platonically, that he just really valued your friendship and didn’t want to ruin it by asking you whatever he was going to.

And then there was another part of your brain telling you that that was complete bullshit, because what kind of question could possibly be so bad that it would mean you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore?

It had to be something inherently romantic, or Spencer’s concerns wouldn’t make any logical sense, which was a very off brand thing for him.

“It’ll never ‘go well’ if you don’t actually ask,”

The small flutter in your heart only proves to increase at Morgan’s reply, and if you were an actual part of the conversation you’d agree with him.

You wanted Spencer to ask you whatever was plaguing his mind, whether it be to take you on a date somewhere or even if it’s just to get lunch with him on your shared break. Any step forward was a step in the right direction, and you wanted that next step.

He doesn’t.

The whole day goes by without a single peep from Spencer in relation to his little pep talk with Morgan in the morning, and it was beginning to frustrate you just a little.

Of course you wouldn’t actually be frustrated if you hadn’t overheard the conversation they were having, but that wasn’t your fault. It was like the fates were trying to bring you together.

And you were letting them drag you in whatever direction they deemed fit.

“Hey Spencer!” You catch him right as he steps into the elevator, and he sticks out a hand over the motion sensor to keep the door open for you.

“Hey,” Spencer gives you a small, awkwardly endearing smile as you join him inside the elevator, retracting his hand to grip the strap of his messenger bag.

“Thanks,” You let out a stuttered exhale as you catch your breath from the mild jog you made to reach the door, pulling on the shoulders of your shirt to straighten it back out.

“No problem,” He gives you another small smile, and then the conversation falls silent, the sound of the doors opening as the two of you reach the ground level being the only thing to break the stillness of your joined company.

You couldn’t really tel whether the lack of conversation was awkward or not, but you did know that the longer you were in his sole company the more that you wanted to oust your knowledge of his earlier conversation with Morgan, to the point where you were rehearsing how to bring it up in your head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Spencer gives you a small wave as the two of you step out of the elevator and into the covered parking lot, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning around to walk away before you can reply.

You swear you catch the tiniest glimpse of him mouthing something to himself with a furrowed expression as he turns around, like he’s berating himself for something, and your brain decides that it’s the perfect time to just go for it, his name tumbling out of your mouth to no consciousness of your own.

“Spencer—”

He turns around at your call and your throat goes dry, your impulsiveness biting you right in the ass as you lose your confidence immediately under his gaze. “Yeah?”

“You… uh-” You watch as his eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion, and you clear your throat to throw your inhibitions out the window. You couldn’t just not tell him now. “I overheard the conversation you were having this morning with Morgan, the uh… the one about me?”

You can practically see the colour drain from his face at your admission, and it immediately makes you regret bringing it up. He wasn’t ready yet.

“You-” He lets out a sharp exhale through his mouth, tugging at the strap of his back awkwardly. “You heard that?”

You give him a small guilty nod with your lips pressed together, and he sucks in a breath like he’s forgotten how to breathe. “How much of it did you hear..?”

“About… three quarters of it,”

He shuts his eyes, head dropping until the hair framing his face catches against his eyelashes.

Of course you’d heard it all. Because him stumbling over himself over how to properly approach you to Morgan wasn’t humiliating enough.

No, you just had to be there to hear it.

There went any minuscule chance he had of actually managing to build something with you. You probably thought he was some weirdo who had some stalkerish fantasy of you.

“Spencer—”

“I didn’t mean it.” Your attempt at elaborating was very quickly short lived as he cuts you off.

“I- What?”

“I didn’t- I was just saying that to get Morgan off my back about not dating anyone,” Spencer knows he’s speaking straight out of his ass, but it’s the only thing that he can think of to say to possibly salvage a fraction of your friendship with him without making everything weird. “I didn’t actually mean any of it-”

There’s a small pause, silence flooding the space between you until you feel like you’re drowning in it.

“Oh,” There’s a split second where the astonishment shows across your face, and Spencer swears he catches a glimpse of disappointment in your irises before it’s covered up with something else. “Right- Yeah no that makes sense he can be quite annoying about that stuff can’t he?”

He gives a pathetic laugh at your response. “Yeah…”

“Well I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then…” There’s no mistaking the awkward tension between the two of you as you rifle in your pocket for your car keys.

“Yeah… See you tomorrow…”

—

“I messed up. I messed up really bad.” Morgan barely has time to leave the elevator before Spencer is practically dragging him into the conference room to speak to him privately, without any chance of their conversation being heard.

“Well good morning to you too boy genius,”

“I’m serious Morgan, this is really bad-” Spencer’s face conveys absolute desperation, almost bordering patheticness from just how rifled he seems.

“Okay okay damn,” Morgan raises his arms in surrender, a silent vow to take Spencer’s worries seriously.

“They overheard our conversation, the one about me being afraid to ask them out.” Spencer sighs in absolute indignation, taking a hand through his hair with an expression like his doctor just told him he wasn’t going to wake up tomorrow morning.

“Oh-” Morgan’s eyes widen slightly at Spencer’s confession, straightening up and furrowing his eyebrows. “And?”

“And I told them that I was just saying I wanted to ask them out to get you off my back about dating-”

Morgan’s shoulders drop, and he narrows his eyes slightly in a mix of confusion and absolute astoundment that he would fumble the bag that hard. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I didn’t want things to get awkward, but when they walked into the office this morning they didn’t even say good morning and we’ve been sat in a stalemate for almost ten minutes which suggests that they didn’t believe what I said and I did make it awkward and-”

“Reid-” Morgan holds up a hand to stop Spencer’s rambling mid-sentence. “Slow your roll a minute, what actually happened?”

“They caught me on the way out of the elevator to the parking lot yesterday and told me that they overheard our conversation,” Spencer drags his hand down his face in exasperation. “And I panicked and said that I didn’t mean it and that it was just to get you to stop asking me about my dating life, so that it wouldn’t make our friendship awkward…”

He exhales heavily, leaning his body weight against the conference table in defeat. “But I don’t think they believed me, and now they’re acting like I’m a stranger to them and I don’t know what to do,”

“Right… Okay,” Morgan takes a few seconds to take in the information through furrowed eyebrows. “And you’re sure it’s because they don’t believe you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It was Spencer’s turn to furrows his features at Morgan’s response. What else could it possibly be to do with?

“Look, I’m not going to say anything, but you need to come clean and talk to them, right now.”

“What—” Spencer barely gets the question out of his mouth before Morgan is leaving his side to open the door of the conference room and yelling your name across the bullpen to bring you over.

“What are you doing?” Spencer Whisper-yells through his teeth as he watches you approach from over Morgan’s shoulder, and he watches the way your curiosity turns to begrudgement as you realise that Morgan wasn’t the only one there.

You literally fizzled out after realising that Spencer was there, what else was he supposed to think?

“You two need to have a conversation,” Morgan points between the two of you before tugging you into the room by your forearm. “I am going to stand outside that door and you are not allowed to leave until you’ve spoken to each other properly, no bullshit. You hear me?”

It feels like you and Spencer are two five year olds as Morgan looks between you, but you both nod stuntedly either way, and true to his word, Morgan leaves the room and leans his weight against the closed door so you can’t push it open to leave.

“So…”

“So-”

The tension between the two of you is palpable as you both try to start the conversation at the same time, but the fact that you were so similar in your awkward attempts at breaking the silence makes you laugh a little, which in turn makes Spencer laugh as well.

It was a little silly, but you were both glad for the break in the stalemate you’d put yourselves in, even if just for that moment before you found yourselves surrounded by silence once more, albeit a slightly more comfortable one.

“Well… Uh…”

“I’m sorry I assumed you liked me, romantically I mean,” You cut off Spencer’s awkward attempt at breaking the silence with your own blurted excuse. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward between us I just thought—” You cut yourself short before you can finish to save yourself from your own embarrassment.

Spencer can only blink at your apology.

“I— What?”

“When I cornered you in the parking lot yesterday, I should’ve known it was just Morgan bothering you, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” You clasp your hands behind your back, nervously wringing your hands together.

So it wasn’t because you didn’t believe him. You did. And you looked… upset about it? Dejected maybe? Spencer couldn’t be quite sure, but whatever emotion you were displaying it wasn’t something objectively positive.

“I— You didn’t—” Spencer exhales heavily through his mouth, clenching his hands into fists as he internally fights with himself over whether to just spit it out and get it over with.

‘You need to come clean’.

Morgan sounded extremely assured in his statement when he directed Spencer earlier, like he knew what the outcome was going to be.

It wasn’t a case of ‘come clean because the truth is better than lying’, it was a ‘come clean because whatever happens afterwards isn’t going to be negative’.

“I lied to you,”

Spencer’s brain always worked faster than his body, but apparently he’d managed to override his own instincts and let his mouth make the decision for him before he could think through all of the possible consequences.

“…What?” The traces of disappointment in your eyes are diluted by a mix of surprise and confusion as you turn them up to his, and Spencer feels his throat dry out almost immediately.

“I wasn’t trying to get Morgan off my back, I…” Spencer lets out another small sigh. “I really was asking him for advice, I… I really like you, a lot, and I just didn’t know how to tell you without ruining our friendship so Morgan was trying to help,” He lets out a small laugh, his fingers raking through his hair animatedly as he laments his own patheticness. “It didn’t go very well, clearly,”

There’s a small pause after his confession, the silence settling in Spencer’s chest and making him feel nauseous as he waits for a sign of how you’re going to respond.

The blankness on your face isn’t very reassuring.

“You’re being serious?”

“…mhm…” Practically all of the conviction in Spencer’s tone disappears at your question, and he half-wishes that he could travel back in time so this conversation never happened.

“I like you too Spencer,”

“I underst—” Spencer lowers his head as he dejectedly accepts your rejection. Except it’s not a rejection. “What?”

“I like you too,” You repeat yourself with determination, your eyes practically boring holes into his, and he swears he can feel his knees trying to buckle underneath him.

“You uh… Really?” Spencer blinks at you like a deer in headlights, his genius brain seemingly unable to comprehend how the conversation, one Spencer was sure would end in your rejection and end with the two of you as practical strangers, somehow turned into this.

You give him a firm nod. “I’d like to go out with you Spencer, on a date, anywhere you like,” Your confidence starkly contrasts his shattered composure as you give him your proposal like you’re presenting in a board meeting. Although he’s sure it’s almost entirely feigned, and the way you fiddle with your fingers is evidence enough of his theory. “Please?”

There’s a tinge of desperation in your tone as you add your small plea at the end, and it makes Spencer realise that he’s just blankly staring at you.

“I— Yes— Yes I’d love to go on a date with you Uh—” Spencer thoroughly stumbles over his words in his rush to wipe the traces of doubt in your features. “I’d really like that…”

“Good— Good,” You let out a short laugh of relief at his answer, and he echoes it with your own as you stand in a shared dome of fluster together.

“Do you want to get lunch? Uh, together?” The way Spencer phrases the question was like a middle schooler trying to ask out their crush rather than a grown man, but it only makes the sentiment more endearing.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Your answer is joined by a soft laugh that echoes from the back of your throat, and it makes Spencer’s heart flutter.

“Okay,” Spencer returns your chuckle with his own, gesturing curtiously towards the closed door like a true gentleman, and you have to suppress the urge to stamp a kiss against his pink cheeks as you pass him to push it open.

There’s less resistance than there should be as you push it open, with Morgan decidedly having left the two of you to your own devices to return to his desk without either of you realising.

He shoots the two of you a wink and a thumbs up as you walk down the stairs, and Spencer’s cheeks turn a slightly darker shade of red at the ‘unfortunate’ realisation that he’s due in for a whole load of jests and teases from him going forward.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #mgg #climacteric 🪶

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duuhrayliegh · 3 days

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equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

#bartender!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader #bucky x peanut #consequences #ray's writing #bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky barnes x you #bartender!bucky barnes x y/n #bartender!bucky x you

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Text

Neighbors Extra V

Read Neighbors here | ~2.5k words

From me: based on this ask. Takes place probably in between Part 5 and Extra I

Warnings: a little angsty, a little fluffy, enjoy 💕

It was the stretch of bad weather that did it. Played a trick on his mind. It hurt to think about those weeks without his favorite people. He knew what bad weather could do to people and he knew how it could affect him. It was weird, the night before he rather enjoyed the sound of rain against the window, the slight chill in the air contrasted with the warmth coming off her from the bed. Now it seemed like a curse.

“Harry?” Rory called, hearing the thunder in the middle of the night. It made his heart ache to know Rory called Harry’s name and not for Mumma the way he usually did. Harry rolled out of bed pressing a swift kiss to her forehead despite his negativity settling into the pit of his stomach. He made his way for Rory’s room. He forgot about the frustration he felt about her and the weeks that she chose to separate them. Rory needed him.

“S’matter, lad?” Harry asked sitting on the end of his bed. There was relief in his eyes that was visible in the low light of his nightlight. That relief made Harry’s heart clench. He put his hand on his leg atop the covers and squeezed his shin.

“Is... is Mumma scared?” He asked softly.

Harry tilted his head curiously. “Mummy’s sleeping,” he assured him.

“Oh... um...” Rory was so little looking in his bed. “Mumma gets scared with thunder sometimes,” he explained. “I usually go sleep with her to keep her safe.”

Harry blamed the lateness of the hour for his slow-moving brain cells and not understanding what Rory was trying to tell him faster. “Oh?” He nodded. “I see. Well, do y’want t’come check on her?” He asked standing beside his bed and pulling the covers back.

He nodded eagerly; it was punctuated by a crack of thunder that practically shook the house. His eyes widened with fear while trying to be brave. After his little hospital stay, Harry noted how nervous Rory seemed sometimes—especially when it came to his mum and making sure she wasn’t nervous too. “That was scary,” Harry admitted and scooped Rory into his arms quickly, tucking his head against his shoulder.

“You’re scared of thunder?” He asked incredulously but didn't move his face from Harry's neck.

“Isn’t everyone?” Harry smirked without Rory seeing. “Y'know that Mummy is, me...s'like you’re the bravest one of us."

Rory squirmed a bit in Harry’s arms--like the weight of his phobia and subsequent fake-bravery was too much for him. “I think I’m a little afraid of thunder,” he whispered to Harry. Harry nodded and squeezed him.

“S’okay. S’brave of you t’want t’check on Mummy anyway.”

“I didn’t know if I was allowed to,” he admitted.

“Allowed?” Harry repeated.

“Because Mumma has you now.”

Harry didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the night. Not when he was feeling frustrated with the love of his life’s actions. Not when the weather was souring his mood. Not when Rory felt scared, and he didn’t know how to fix it completely.

“Rory,” Harry sighed stopping outside the bedroom. “Mummy and I are always going t’need you,” he promised. “You don’t have t’change how y’do things because m’here,” he pressed his lips against the little one’s forehead.

"Okay," he nodded.

Harry smiled at him again, ran his hand through his hair comfortingly before he headed back in the bedroom. He knelt on the bed and deposited Rory in the middle. She hadn’t moved. Probably tired from being perfect all day, Harry presumed. Rory nestled into the middle of the bed and Harry smiled softly, feeling more tired, thankfully, than when he woke up. His mind didn’t need to reel with more feelings of frustration before he fell back asleep. “Night, Harry,” Rory whispered.

Harry smiled as he drifted off. “Night Rory.”

The rainy night turned into a rainy day. Harry was quiet. She noticed it immediately. When she woke up with the help of her internal clock at six-thirty, she realized Rory’s little face was staring back at her. She blinked in surprise, wondering when he got there. Harry’s hand was resting protectively on Rory’s little rib cage and her heart melted so thoroughly she thought she would cry.

Swallowing the emotion in her throat she snuck out of bed to start breakfast as Rory would surely wake up with the help of his own internal clock in about thirty minutes. The rain and dark clouds made her think of her trip to the hospital in the middle of the night, quickly she shook her head of those thoughts.

As if on cue, Harry and Rory descended the stairs as she poured juice for them. “Hi Mumma!” Rory smiled excitedly. Harry released him and he scurried over to hug her legs. She bent and kissed the top of his head before returning to the scrambled eggs on the stove.

“Hi love bug,” she grinned. “Did you sleep okay?”

Rory glanced back at Harry and nodded. “Harry said I was really brave about the thunder.”

She was surprised she didn’t wake to the sound of it and moreover the sound of Rory’s little worried voice because of it. She pursed her lips and glanced at Harry as well. “Yeah?” She asked quietly.

Harry nodded. He pressed a kiss to her temple and grabbed the three glasses of orange juice to settle on the table. “Rory was braver than I was,” he repeated. “He wanted t’make sure y’were sleeping okay. Because y’get scared in the thunderstorms sometimes.”

Her heart clenched with love for the little one. More for Harry for going along with every little detail and every insecurity Rory shared with him. She smiled and nodded. “Thanks, cutie pie,” she ruffled his hair as he held onto her leg still.

Harry sat at the table. Normally, she wouldn’t have paid much attention to the position, but he didn’t really look up from his phone. He didn’t look up when she said breakfast was almost ready—when he usually hopped up to get plates, silverware, etc. Rory followed over to Harry. Joined him by sitting right on his lap, Harry moving instinctively to hold him as they examined Harry’s phone.

“Honey, can you ask Harry if it’s okay first—he might be doing something for work or—”

“S’fine, kitten,” he mumbled, interrupting her without further explanation.

“It’s highlights from the soccer game,” Rory explained.

Biting her lip, she suddenly felt a bit intrusive. Quietly, she set plates in front of the pair and then ate her own food in near silence—save for the cheers and announcers coming from Harry’s phone. It felt odd to feel left out. For so long it had been her and Rory. Perhaps she was imagining it, but she swore Harry almost seemed... annoyed with her.

After Rory started playing on his own, she would ask. Or maybe when Rory went to sleep tonight.

For now, even if she was a bit anxious about Harry’s coldness toward her, she couldn’t help but adore how sweet Harry and Rory looked at the other end of the table. The same concentrated expression on their faces as they watched his phone screen. Her heart was so full it felt illegal to be that happy. Harry kissed the back of Rory’s head without fanfare, without thinking. His phone propped against the flower vase while he ate his breakfast with one hand.

Just as quietly, she snapped a picture of the pair of them. One to send to her family as well as his for sure.

Rory and Harry were nearly inseparable the whole day. It allowed her to get a lot of cleaning and laundry done that had been neglected since Rory couldn’t play in the yard with the unending rainy weather. In the late afternoon, Rory asked that they play a few rounds of Candyland. So, they did. Harry smiled at Rory the whole time and chuckled every time her turn brought her back to the Peppermint Forest when she was almost to the Candy Castle.

It almost felt mean spirited.

But the boys went to play again in Rory's room after Candyland. Harry even got Rory to take a bath without the usual argument that ensued when she did. Their little day spent together right under her nose made her a little jealous—although she wasn’t sure who she was jealous of when she thought about it. They paused to have leftovers for dinner (because it was Saturday, and that was their routine) While they played, she read some of her long-neglected book that was often set to the side for room to play with her son.

“Rory wants you t’say goodnight,” Harry said quietly as he flopped onto the couch grabbing the controller off the coffee table. She blinked, glanced at the clock along the wall of the dining area and shook her head at how rapidly the time had moved.

“It’s eight already?” She asked, mostly to herself. There was no arguing, no ‘one more story,’ not even a good night kiss as had happened many nights before when Harry put Rory to bed.

He nodded anyway, scrolling through movie and show options on Netflix without even looking at her. She eyed him suspiciously the entire time she ascended the stairs to Rory’s room. “Hi Mumma,” he grinned happily. He smelled clean and fresh. His room was tidy (thanks to Harry’s kind reminders as they played, she was sure). Rory was perfect. But she may have been a bit biased.

“Hi baby,” she smiled. “Did you have fun playing with Harry today?” She asked.

He nodded. “We played so much,” it was as if he realized it all on his own and how weird of a day it was to have a playdate right near her without hardly including her.

“You did,” she grinned and kissed his forehead. “I love you. Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.” She had said it to him since the day they met Harry and he had asked for clarification.

He grinned and rolled over sleepily. “I love you, too, Mumma,” he yawned. She turned his light off, ensuring the nightlight remained on. She closed the door and returned to the living room. Harry was unmoved; legs outstretched on the coffee table.

Harry shifted as she removed her book from the sofa and placed it beside Harry’s feet on the table. He was silent. Her discomfort amplified and she turned to him. “Are you...okay?” She asked. He nodded, still unspeaking. She bit the inside of her lip. “Uh...Harry, it really feels like—”

“It was really unfair,” he mumbled. His gaze was unmoving from the TV but he wasn’t watching.

“What was—”

“You just...stopped talking t’me. Y’didn’t tell me why. Rory had t’come t’me in secret t’invite me t’his game,” he reminded her. “I know why y’did,” he looked at her squarely for the first time all day. “But it hurt. And I never really got t’grieve it because you came back but it hurt,” he repeated. Her chest ached, feeling like he pierced a whole right through it.

“Harry,” she whispered, an apology forming.

He shook his head. “Y’don’t have t’say anything. S’over and m’not...” he sighed. “M’really not mad, kitten. M’not. S’jus’ the crummy weather made me think of it. Playing with Rory all day made me think ‘bout all those weeks I didn’t have with him. S’not fair and s’not anyone’s fault. M’jus... sad.”

Her heart felt shattered. “But—”

“You don’t have t’say anything.”

But she felt like she did. Harry resenting her felt like a very real possibility and it terrified her. “You’ll resent me.”

“Of course I won’t,” he turned to her with such fierceness in his eyes she felt as if the sun had finally broke the cloud barrier after their long weak of rain. “I know why y’did it. But m’sad about it,” he grabbed her hand. “I trust you that it won’t happen again,” he kissed her knuckles. “M’sorry I was cold today. I jus’ never got t’process or tell you how it felt.”

Well, if it was worse than this moment--and she was sure that it wasn’t even a fraction of the anguish and hurt Harry felt at the time--then she didn’t want to ever make him feel that way again. Didn’t want to experience it herself in any manner—even if Harry very much deserved to make her feel the way she made him feel.

“Harry,” she repeated. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. Tongue-tied, confused, and unsure. Things she rarely felt since she had Rory because she couldn't. “I... I don’t know how to—”

“Kitten,” he squeezed her hand. “M’not mad. M’not going t’hold it against you. But I needed to tell you, so I don’t.”

“Harry,” she felt like a broken record.

“Beautiful,” he echoed in the same tone. “M’not mad,” he promised.

She crawled across the couch, curled in his lap and nuzzled against him in a way that a grown woman had no business to do. Tears stung behind her eyes and her breath felt shallow in her lungs. “I was an idiot,” she whispered hoping it would ease the ache, the fear she felt of losing Harry when she had only started to have him.

“Oh, kitten,” he cooed. “Y’might be the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met,” he assured her running his hand up and down her back. “I was mean today. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You should have punched me in the face.”

He chuckled. “Never in a billion years, love,” he brushed her hair out of her face. “You didn’t need t’do it, but I get it.”

“I didn’t. I shouldn’t have. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“M’telling you, you don’t need to. I won’t behave poorly like I did today again.”

Her heart felt so broken--she was afraid to speak. Worried it would just come out in a mess of sobs that Harry would unfairly have to comfort. “I can’t even believe you’re apologizing for your behavior. It was my own doing.”

“Angel,” he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose. “You did what you thought was best as a mum. M’never going t’fault you for that; just...” he smiled and shook his head. “Tell me beforehand next time, yeah?”

She snorted. “I won’t ever let there be a next time,” she vowed. He winked at her, cupped her face with his hands that she missed gently caressing her and touching her in between playing with Rory, all day long. Gently, he pressed his lips to hers to seal the promise.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz

@likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59

@babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06

@canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong

@foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03

@luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr

@crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @harryscherri

@indierockgirrl @michellekstyles @hermionelove @somethingabout1d19

neighbors taglist: @claimingharrystigertattoo @mopeymousey @vmpellie I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #neighbor!harry #harry styles sad #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #one direction #one direction writing #neighbors

194 notes · View notes

vesppperoro · 3 days

Note

Hey hey hey !! Hope your day has been great !!You should so write something for a Sinner reader !!! I had an idea for one.

Maybe a fem ! Cheshire cat like Sinner ? I imagine she died in the 1800s but her style resembles that of a goth. Instead or purples n pinks , I'd imagine she'd be a black and pink color !! They could be like Alastor !!

Maybe they'd also he like the actual Cheshire cat , but she can float and stuff too. If she had abilities relating to time , like Alice in Wonderland , that would be awesome. I imagine she'd be laid back as hell but full of sarcasm. Her grin also never leaves her face. Perhaps she also does the appearing and disappearing randomly thing too ! Especially the part where she disappears while her smile remains in place for a second or two until it too disappears.

If you could do this , that'd be awesome !! If not , ignore this. Thank you !!

Hazbin Hotel Cast with Cheshire Cat Sinner! Reader (fem)

Includes: Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Niffty, Sir. Pentious, Cherri Bomb, Alastor.

A/N: The image below is what they attached to another ask. I went off of it :)

Charlie Morningstar

She LOVES you SO MUCH.

You’re a hostess for the hotel. She met you through Alastor.

Alastor summoned you because he owns your soul. What you sold your soul for, she doesn’t know. She didn’t push you for it.

But she loves your style. She always asks you for tips and sometimes steals your outfits (with your permission because stealing is wrong).

She always jumps whenever you randomly appear next to her, floating and smiling sinisterly.

She loves the deep conversations the both of you have. You tell her about some of the things you remember from her time and she writes it down. Human things were so strange.

Even though you’re owned by Alastor, you’re powerful as hell too.

Whenever the loan sharks attacked, you helped protect the hotel.

I imagine that you’d be able to grow in size as well.

Anyways. You two always chat about things. You’re her go to gossip person!

She loves your tail SO much. Whenever you’re floating around her, you lightly place it around her chest and she pets it.

Vaggie

She didn’t trust you at first. You were way too similar to that stupid radio demon.

You were always smiling, but your smile creeped her out more.

Your sudden appearing and disappearing creeped her out too.

She didn’t trust you for the first few months you were there.

Whenever you disappeared and your smile remained, it creeped her out to no ends.

She warmed up to you, however, when you protected them no matter what.

She likes taking naps with you.

You two also have many deep conversations. You two understand each other quite a bit.

Angel Dust

LOVED your vibe.

Still made lewd jokes about your cat things.

“Do you meow or purr when you cum?”

You did not answer that.

He flirts with you too, even if he isn’t actually attracted to you.

He plays with your tail often.

He loves how you float around!

He won’t admit it, but he loves when you pick him up and float around with him.

You two are best friends, actually.

He finds your chest fluff funny because he has some too.

“Is that supposed to cover your lack of tits?”

When he told you about Val, you almost lost your smile.

You protect him as much as you can.

He trusts you enough to vent to you. You appreciate his trust.

Husk

You’re both cats. You understand each other.

Also the fact you’re both owned by Alastor. You two don’t really like him, so you bond over that.

The deep conversations you both have has also strengthened your bond.

Drinking buddies!! You can hold your liquor better than he can.

You time hang out often as well. He finds you to be a break from the crazies in the hotel.

You two sometimes fly together. You float around him while he flies. You have to grab him sometimes.

You two probably sung a song together. Maybe your own version of Whatever It Takes.

You two have definitely pet each other. He purrs around you.

You two sometimes just chill in silence together.

Niffty

Same thought process as how she feels with Alastor.

She calls you a big bad girl.

She loves your style so much! She always climbs on you.

She pets you like a spoiled kitty.

She loves that you try to pounce on rodents, even if you’re twice their size.

Bug killing partners!!

You two share a BUNCH of dark ideas with one another.

You two have to be separated due to your shared love for chaos.

You treat her like a chaotic daughter.

She saw your true form once and she will never forget it.

She LOVED it SO MUCH.

She always asks if you can turn back into it, but you usually refuse.

Sometimes you float around with her in your arms. She adores it.

Sir. Pentious

You and him have a similar relationship as him and Alastor have.

You two were enemies at one point.

You always beat him, but he fought you a lot.

When he joined the hotel, you knew something was off.

You joined Vaggie and Angel Dust in It Starts With Sorry.

“Cant we just kill him? Shoot him and spill his blood?” You took a middle note in the alto key.

Past that, you two have had some better experiences.

He thinks you’re scary, but he doesn’t mind hanging out with you.

Your shared experiences of life brought you two together.

He probably developed a small crush on you before he fell in love with Cherri Bomb.

Cherri Bomb

Similar to you and Sir. Pentious, you were enemies.

However, you two became frenemies.

She thought you were badass and you thought she was too.

Two girl bosses fr.

You two have definitely fought others for territory before.

When she busted the wall of the hotel, you were overjoyed to see her.

You two probably still do drugs together.

She’s your gossip girl.

You, her, and Angel hang out very often together.

Their duo turned into a trio.

You still have a friendly rivalry with one another.

You two definitely had a song together.

Alastor

And finally, the man you sold your soul to.

You sold your soul when you were at your lowest point to this man. Little did you know it would be the biggest regret of your life.

You try to replicate him. The whole smile and hostess like thing.

He finds you charming.

Your shared loved for radio is what makes you two able to converse without him knocking you down a peg.

He teases you about your cat features, as he does with Husk.

He only had to show his authority to you once and it scared the shit out of you.

You cowered in the corner.

But you put that off.

When he randomly summoned you for whatever hotel work he wanted you for, you were originally pissed.

However, you two have gotten to know each other better through this.

Maybe your soul contract thing wasn’t too bad.

233 notes · View notes

metalmonki · 2 days

Text

50 Ways To Say Goodbye

911 x fem!reader

5k word count

Summary The 911 helps you escape your abusive ex but in true 118 dumb, dumb stile they create a bigger problem that Athena has to fix.

fluff, idiots

Warnings mention and description of death, domestic abuse and self-harm.

Note: I've been working on the next part of The Dating Oddessey while listening to some music. 50 Ways To Say Goodbye by Train came on and gave me this idea. Didn't quite turn out how I wanted but its still pretty funny. Also you could take this to mean either Eddie or Buck has feelings for you. Not how I intended it but it's how it came out.

...

Today you had finally done it. You had finally worked up the courage to break up with your horrible excuse for a human ex Bradley. You made sure to break up with him while he was working so you had witnesses. The last thing you needed was him gaslighting you back into the relationship like last time. With witnesses, it was harder for him to say the breakup never happened.

Today had been planned out for weeks. Your best friends, Eddie and Buck, had been helping you slowly remove your stuff from his house for the last month and taking it to your Dad's place. You did have much, after all, Bradley didn’t allow you to have much. He had to control everything from the furniture to the decorations and even the food kept in the house.

Outside Bradley's workplace Buck and Eddie were waiting for you in Eddie's truck. Your Dad, Bobby, was their boss and had given them the day off to play bodyguard for you. When you walked out the front door with Bradley storming after you both boys were fast to jump out of the truck and jog towards you. Eddie wasn’t going to let him hurt you anymore and Buck didn’t want what happened to his sister Maddie to happen to you for that reason Eddie had hidden a lot of what Bradley had done to you from all your friends and even your Dad. Eddies had been the house you would hide in for days at a time while waiting for bruises to heal. Eddie had been the person to give you that final push you needed to leave.

“What if next time he kills you y/n? Did you think of that?” Eddie slammed his fist onto his kitchen counter as you held a bag of frozen peas to your soon-to-be black eye. “Do you have any idea what that would do to me? To Chris? Hell, think about your father and Athena. The rest of our friends. We all love you y/n and yet you keep allowing yourself to be treated like shit. You know what if you're going to go back to him this time then I don’t want you in my house, take your things and leave” Eddie had left the kitchen, leaving you standing there shocked to your core. It scared you. More than the beatings. You didn’t want to lose Eddie as your friend, you didn’t want to hurt him or Chris, your family, your friends. Eddie was right enough was enough.

After that night you had come clean with everyone about what was happening. Athena was quick to offer up their spare room for you and Bobby wouldn’t take no for an answer. Eddie and Maddie had to keep Buck distracted at all times until your items were moved out of Bradley's house because he threatened to kill the guy if he laid eyes on him. So when Buck and Eddie saw him coming up fast behind you screaming at you Eddie made sure to direct Buck to get you out of the way. Buck was quick to slide an arm around your waist and guide you quickly to Eddie's truck. Eddie blocked Bradley from coming any closer to you. You couldn’t hear what was said between the two of them but whatever Eddie said had Bradley ducking back into his building quickly. Eddie waited until the building doors closed behind Bradley before walking back to the truck. He didn’t speak once he started the truck nor did he speak for the entire trip to your Dads. His white knuckles gripped the steering wheel the whole drive there. Their conversation was something that had pissed him off. Once at your Dad's, you excused yourself to go lay down. The day had left you physically and mentally exhausted.

“It’s okay baby you go rest, your Dad wants to cook you something special for dinner so I’ll come get you when his home and cooking, okay” Athena gave you a loving smile.

You made your way to the spare room and quickly made yourself comfortable on the bed. As you lay there you could hear Athena talking with Buck and Eddie.

“She’ll be safe here, trust me if that guy comes anywhere near this house he can consider himself arrested” Athena said

“How long does it take for someone like him to just leave a person alone?” Buck asked

“Some give up after a few days, some a few weeks, months, years, some never quit” Athena sighed “But this guy I’d say as soon as he has a new target he’ll leave her alone”

“Athena…” Eddie was cut off by someone banging on the front door. Before anyone could move to open the door what could only be described as a stampede echoed through the house. Heavy boots took staircase steps 2 at a time until the fanfare came to an end in the kitchen where Athena, Eddie and Buck still stood in shock at the interruption. Stood before them in full uniform fresh from a call were Bobby, Chimney, Hen and Ravi.

“What in the world are you lot doing in my kitchen?” Athena asked frustration lacing her voice

“Did you get y/n?” Chimney ignored Athena looking straight at Eddie and Buck

“y/n is trying to rest which she won’t be able to do with you lot acting like a bunch of zoo animals” Athena crossed her arms over her chest looking at them all like a disappointed mother.

“So what's the plan from here how do we keep her ex from intimidating her back into a relationship with him” Hen asked keeping her voice just above a whisper partly to keep from disturbing y/n but mostly to appease Athena.

“Well, to start Maddie and I are going to take her out for the day tomorrow, take her mind off all this” Athena motioned around the room.

“Then starting the day after I’ve adjusted our rosters so someone can be here with her around the clock in case he shows up here” Bobby spoke up

“Unfortunately, someone here invited him over for dinner so he knows exactly where we live” Athena threw an accusatory look at Bobby.

“Maybe she should come to stay with me he has no idea where I live” Eddie offered up.

“No she’s safer here with Athena” Bobby said “Any sign of trouble and Athena can have the entire LAPD on our doorstep” Bobby smiled at Athena.

“A Mumma has to protect her babies” Athena smiled back at Bobby. “And besides, he knows all of us and he will likely stalk all of us to get to her”

“So what are we supposed to do just wait for him to lose interest” Buck spoke up frustrated with the situation “I mean you said it yourself Athena it could take years”

“Or days or weeks or months, the only guaranteed way to get rid of him quick is if y/n died, it’s the only way I’ve seen his type leave their victim alone for good” Athena said. The 118 shared a look, a look of mischief, of a united thought on how to get rid of this threat to their family. Athena knew immediately what they were thinking and quickly began shaking her head and looking between them.

“Don’t you even think about it” Athena pointed a stern finger at each person standing in her kitchen. “You’ll be causing more problems than what you’ll solve”

…

Despite Athena's warning the 118 decided as a family that if ‘the asshole’ as they affectionately dubbed him showed his face to any of them they would warn him to back off and if he wouldn’t listen they would tell him y/n was dead. It seemed like the perfect plan until it wasn’t.

The first person to meet him face to face was Chimney. It was 4 days after Eddie and Buck had taken you to live with Bobby and Athena. It was Eddie's day off. He had taken you out for lunch, then you picked Christopher up from school before heading back to Eddies to hang out. Eddie asked if you wanted to stay for dinner and a movie. Christopher who overheard the offer from where he sat in the dining room doing his homework practically begged you to stay. You called Athena to let her know you were going to be out late with Eddie and that he was going to drive you back when the movie ended. Christopher was old enough after all to stay home alone for the 20 minutes it would take Eddie to drop you home.

Because of this, it was Chimney who got stuck working late at the firehouse. He was the last to leave after finishing off all the small boring end-of-shift jobs like making sure all the dinner dishes were done and the ambulance restocked for the next shift. Bradley had been parked across the road from the station all day watching the team come and go. Your little stunt at his office had cost him his job. He was going to make you pay and he had all the time in the world to make it happen. He waited and counted off your friends as they left. He wanted to make sure that he followed the last person to leave because he knew if he risked following anyone else the rest of your friends would know and his plan would be ruined. He noticed after the first three calls of the shift that one of the guys he had seen you out the front of his office with wasn’t on shift today. He decided it was likely that guy's fault you left him. You’d probably been seeing him behind his back all along. He’d make him pay too. He counted them out one by one as they left the firehouse, first, it was the other guy he’d seen at his office and some Middle Eastern-looking dude. Then that black woman he’d seen you hang out with left. Next was your father. He almost forgot to wait to see him. He wanted to chase him down and run him over with his car but he held it together. He knew there was one more person left. The little Asian guy. When he hadn’t come out after 30 minutes he almost thought he went home earlier and he’d missed him. That was until Chimney walked out of the 118 firehouse almost 45 minutes after his shift had finished. He was talking away on his phone not paying attention to his surroundings creating the perfect situation for a stalker.

He followed Chimney from the firehouse to one of those 24-hour corner stores. He followed him in close behind, waiting until Chimney was alone in the back of the store. As luck would also have it there were no security cameras in sight. While Chimney was distracted looking at the small selection of diapers the store carried, he took his chance. Before Chimney could respond, he had grabbed him by the shoulder and had him pinned against the diaper shelves he was just looking at.

“Where is she?” He asked aggressively.

“Who?” Chimney asked shocked but trying to remain calm. He knew exactly who he wanted.

“Y/n” He held back from yelling in Chimney's face.

“Y/n? You…you mean you haven’t heard?” Chimney tried his best at putting on a distraught face even willing a few tears to fall.

“Heard what?” He loosed his grip on Chimney.

“I’m sorry man, she… she's dead” Chimney said softly trying to lace his voice with sadness.

“What no! What happened?” He aggressively slammed Chimney back against the shelves.

“The night Eddie and Buck picked her up from your place she slit her wrists in Bobby and Athena's bathroom” Chimney made himself sob.

Bradley shook his head in disbelief and ran from the shop. Once out of sight, Chimney let a massive grin break out on his face and he let out a proud chuckle. He grabbed diapers and practically skipped to the counter with them. He was so proud of himself and his lie. He knew if Bradley went looking to see if it was true he would see there had been a call out to Bobby and Athenas that night. It hadn’t been for you thought. Buck being the massive cluts that he is had managed to get his foot stuck in the bin beside the toilet while changing out a light bulb in the sconce above the sink which had stopped working while he was using the toilet. While trying to get the bin off his foot he slipped on the bath mat and fell smacking the back of his head with a loud yet hollow-sounding thunk on the sink, Luckly for Buck he has a thick skull and came out of it with a sore bum, ankle and head and a bruised ego. They still had him taken to the hospital because even though the injuries weren’t that bad he still needed to be cleared of any major head injury before returning to work.

…

2 days later by chance, he ran into Hen. It was her day off and she was about to come pick you up to go out to the movies but first, she had to run some errands. Bobby wanted to have a barbecue at his place to celebrate family and new beginnings. She was grabbing a few things to take with her when he spotted her. She was about to walk into the supermarket when he walked out. Seeing Hen he decided to take the chance to confirm what Chimney had told him. He grabbed Hen who was distracted by the shopping list on her phone and pulled her to the side of the door.

“What do you think you're doing? Get your hands off me!” Hen snapped.

“I’m sorry I just want to talk” He sighed.

“What do you want?” Hen asked crossing her arms over her chest,

“Is it true?” He asked.

“Is what true?” Hen asked.

“Is she dead?”

“I’m afraid so” Hen dropped her head.

“No, no it can’t be” He looked at the ground.

“If it means anything she didn’t suffer” Hen put a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up at her confused Hen was quick to drop her hand back by her side. “There was nothing anybody could do for her. I can assure you she died the second the car made contact with the semi, she wasn’t even aware of the fire”

“A car accident?” He stumbled backwards. He ran away from Hen and made his way into the parking lot. The groceries he had brought were abandoned on the ground. Hen passed a confused look to the parking lot, shrugged and continued with her day. She knew if he went looking he would find a two-vehicle collision between a truck and a car. Y/n was nowhere near the accident but the 118 had responded to the accident so if he looked it up he wouldn’t be able to accuse them of lying.

…

The very next day Ravi saw Bradley hanging out across the street watching the fire house. Ravi would have run off and grabbed Bobby but he was at home spending time with you. Ravi took a quick look around but couldn’t spot any other members of the 118 to alert. Ravi decided that he was going to have to do something about it himself. He jogged across the road and stood beside Bradley's car. He positioned himself in such a way that if anything should happen anyone watching on in the firehouse would be able to see both Ravi and Bradley in the car. Ravi through a look back at the firehouse and then turned his attention back to Bradley.

“Any reason you're watching the firehouse?” Ravi asked faking a smile trying to pretend that he didn’t know who the man in the car was. “Are you interested in working for the LAFD? I could get you some information if you want to come inside” Ravi motioned towards the firehouse with an outstretched hand.

“Oh no, I was just hoping someone could help me get some information on a friend” Bradley put a fake smile on his face.

“No problem sir if you want to come inside I can set you up in the captain's office and we can all have a couple of officers down to help you” Ravi never once let the smile on his face falter.

“I don’t want to be a bother” If he stepped foot in the firehouse he knew he would be recognised by the other members of the 118. “My friends' name is Y/n Nash I believe you know her, she’s the fire captain's daughter”

“Oh y/n, yeah I knew her, um the captain is actually off today, I guess you’re here for the funeral?” Ravi let his smile drop. He tucked his hands into his pockets, rocked back on his heels and looked at the ground. “I could get you the funeral details if you want”

“No, no it’s fine, when did she die? How did she die? I mean last time I saw her she was healthy, she seemed happy” Bradley knew he was baiting Ravi. He’d already been told two different things. Either your whole team was messing with him or you were messing with them. Either way, he was going to figure it out and track you down. And when he found you he was going to make you pay.

“Uh she…she was involved in a hit and run, Cap had to decide to turn off her life support. The doctors said she had almost no chance of recovery any way” Ravi looked up to the sky knowing if he looked Bradley in the eyes he might break and smile.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, I was just in town and thought I would stop in for a minute but I wouldn’t want to be a burden, pass my condolences on to Bobby” Bradley gave Ravi a small smile and pulled away from the firehouse. When he was out of sight Ravi fist-bumped the air and jogged back into the firehouse. As far as Ravi was concerned that was the last time he thought any of you would hear from him. Bradley on the other hand had only gathered more evidence that the 118 was potentially lying to him.

…

Early the next morning Bradley stalked Eddie to his usual running path. He waited until Eddie was on a particularly quiet portion of the track, hidden from the eyes of the public by bushes and trees. He blocked Eddie's path not allowing him to step around him. Eddie the second he laid eyes on Bradley wanted to punch his lights out but he held his composure. Eddie placed some distance between himself and Bradley before speaking up.

“What the hell do you want?” Eddie said voice laced with anger.

“I just want to know what happened to y/n” Bradley put his hands up in surrender.

“You have no right to ask about her” Eddie snapped “She was so happy until you came along, you broke her down, you isolated her from us, you’re the reason…” Eddie choked on his words. A mixture of real and fake emotions was flowing through Eddie. He was so upset and caught off guard that he almost went off the script. “You’re the reason shes dead”

“Now Edmundo I don’t believe that for a second” Bradley smirked at Eddie

“Look in my eyes and tell me I’m lying” Eddie growled, “I carried her lifeless body out of her parent's house after she blew her brains out with her mother's gun, I begged and pleaded with god and anyone who would listen to bring her back to me, to us.”

“No, no… you're lying!” Bradley yelled backing away from Eddie.

“She killed herself because we wouldn’t let her go back to you, maybe we should have, maybe if we did she’d still be here” Eddie's gaze dropped to the ground. The next thing Eddie heard was the sound of someone running away from him. He looked up to see himself once again alone. A smile broke out on his face as he continued with his run. He couldn’t wait to finish up his run, get home, shower and get to work. The only thing that was going to top this was having dinner with you, Buck and Chris tonight. Bradley on the other hand was not so sure what was going on. He found himself confused. Everything Eddie said seemed so genuine. Maybe Bobby and Eddie had told the rest of the team different things to keep them from knowing what happened. He hadn’t seen you around since that day in the office not even with Eddie and Buck even though he knew you’d always run off to them in the past. Still, he had two more people to ask and he wasn’t going to stop until he got the truth.

…

That afternoon he followed Bobby into a butcher as he looked for the perfect cuts of steak and his favourite burger patties for the weekend during some downtime between calls. He wanted this BBQ to be reminiscent of the BBQs that you had when you were a kid even though, Mum, Robbie and Brook weren’t here anymore and you’d felt like he had tried to replace them with Athena, May and Harry. You’d grown to love them like Bobby did and accepted them as your family. Bobbys plans came to a halt when Bradley grabbed him by the arm and spun him to look at him. Bobby went from shocked to furious in seconds. Bradley could tell immediately that Bobby was not impressed to see him.

“I’m not trying to start anything” Bradley puts his hands up in defence “I just need to know…”

“Need to know what?” Bobby snaps crossing his arms across his chest making himself larger and more intimidating.

“Is she dead?” He asked.

“My daughter? My child who you destroyed so completely that she couldn’t see her self-worth. Yes, she’s dead and it's all your fault” Bobby was now shaking with anger, his arms hung limp at his side and his gaze had met the floor. “I had to scrape her brains off every surface of my guest room, all my children are now gone, I couldn’t save any of them, what kind of father can’t protect his children?” Bobby looked up to where Bradley had been standing to find that he at some point had run off. Bobby looked around the empty store and shrugged. Had he been a little overdramatic sure but he didn’t think he’d been that bad. With a smile plastered on his face, he went back to picking out the steaks for the weekend and hoped that would be the last time he would have to see Bradley.

…

The next morning Buck found himself running late for his shift. Chris insisted on watching a movie with everyone the night before but fell asleep not 15 minutes into the film despite insisting to Eddie that he was not sleepy at all. Eddie carried Chris to bed and decided that since the movie had started you might as well watch it. It was one of your and Chris's favourites. Eddie was sick of watching the movie on repeat and Buck had somehow had the blessing of not being subject to FernGully until now. After the movie, Buck drove you home. This meant he didn’t get home until almost 11 pm and he had to be at the station at 7 am. Bradley had spotted Buck on his drive home and decided to camp out the front of Buck's apartment building for the night. When Buck stumbled out the front door in a rushed mess the next morning Bradley was there to greet him.

“I’m not here to start a fight, I just need answers” He held his hands up in defence.

“What the hell do you need answers for?” If looks could kill Bradley would be dead with how Buck looked at him.

“I just want to know if y/n is dead” Bradley moved further back from Buck out of fear of getting hit.

“Dead” Buck yelled and got so close to Bradley that their chests were almost touching “Why do think it’s any of your business to know what’s happening with y/n?”

“I just heard rumours and wanted to know” Bradley flinched away from Buck.

“You wanted to know? You wanted to know?” Buck looked away and scoffed “Yes she’s dead alright, she killed herself, you have no idea what it’s like to be called out to a scene where someone you love has killed themselves, to see their blood all over and know that nothing you can do will save them. To see them choking on their blood as it spills out of their open throat”

Bradley had gone pale, so pale that Buck thought he was going to faint. For a split moment, Buck felt bad, made be he had been too harsh and taken things too far. Bradley quickly crossed back across the road to his car and took off before any more words could be exchanged. Buck shrugged and quickly made his way to work running even more late now. But that was normal for Buck so he knew no one would question him and he wouldn’t have to tell anyone about running into Bradley.

…

Finally, Saturday rolled around 2 days later. You had been kept busy all morning by Athena who had you help put out her good wine glasses, set the table for lunch, and do other small tasks. Eddie, Christopher and Buck had shown up around 10 am because Chris was too impatient and excited to hang out with his favourite person. You were so distracted with Chris that before you knew it, the rest of the 118 had arrived. Bobby and Buck were manning the BBQ, Chris was off playing with Danny and Mara, Hen, Chimney, Ravi, Karen and Maddie were busy talking among themselves. Athena was busy drifting around the kitchen while Eddie stood outside next to you watching the kids play.

“I’m glad you left him” Eddie broke the silence.

“Me too” You smiled up at him “Thank you for knocking some sense into me”.

“Okay everyone lunch is ready!” Bobby called bringing a tray of meat into the dining room.

Everyone sat around the table. Athena had set the kids up at their table out in the yard which made them think they were the coolest kids ever. She even gave them their plastic wine glasses to drink juice from. You were in the middle of one of the greatest lunches you’d ever had when there was an overly aggressive knock on the door. Before Athena or Bobby could move to answer the door someone yelled through the front door.

“I know you're all in there, I want answers and I want them now!” Bradley screamed through the door.

“What in the world?” Athena looked towards the landing where the front door was.

“What’s he doing here?” Buck looked around the table.

“I guess this means the plan didn’t work” Chimney looked between everyone.

“What plan?” Athena looked at Chimney.

“Uh, well, uh, Bobby do you want to explain it” Chimney looked to Bobby.

“You brought it up” Bobby motioned back to Athena.

“What plan?” Athena stood up, crossed her arms and started tapping her foot.

The 118 shared panicked glances while you, Maddie and Karen looked around the table confused.

“Robert Wade Nash you better start speaking or so help me god you’ll be sleeping at the firehouse tonight” Athena levelled her attention on Bobby.

“We might have told him y/n was dead” Bobby said

“Dead” Athena looked around the table “After I told you not to tell him that you went and did it anyway”

“Well in all fairness Athena I was the one who told him she was dead” Buck admitted looking at his plate.

“You? No, I told him” Chimney jumped in.

“Wait but I told him she was dead like a week ago” Hen added. “Oh god what have we done”

“One at a time, how did you all say she died” Athena asked the table.

“Slit her wrists,” Chimney said

“Hit and Run,” Ravi said

“Car accident,” Hen said

“Shot herself with your gun,” Bobby said

“Slit her throat,” Buck said

“Same as Bobby,” Eddie said

You, Maddie and Karen, were trying to hold it together despite all having a bad case of the giggles. Athena was done with the entire 118 at this point and it was clear from the look on Bobbys face he was already trying to decide who would let him crash on their lounge tonight.

“If you weren’t going to listen couldn’t you all have at least agreed on how she died” Athena sighed.

“I’ll go deal with” Bobby went to stand up.

“No you’ve done enough damage” Athena left the table.

Athena went to open the door while everyone else quietly got up from the table and came to peak around the corner. Bradley was still furiously banging on the door when Athena answered it.

“What do you want?” Athena asked angrily.

“I need the truth, I’ve been told so many different things over the last week,” Bradley said “Tell me the truth and I’ll leave you alone”

“Yes y/n is dead, yes she killed herself with my gun, no we haven’t told everyone, now if you don’t mind we’re currently having her wake” Athena crossed her arms.

“I’m so sorry” Bradley quickly turned on his heels and ran off up the driveway out of sight.

Athena took a deep breath and closed the door.

“When I turn around you all best be at that table eating”

#buddie x reader #bobby nash x reader #athena grant x reader #bobby x athena #evan buckley x reader #eddie diaz x reader #chimney han x reader #Ravi pannikar x reader #911 x reader #118 x reader #hen wilson x reader #911

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wen-kexing-apologist · 2 days

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Unknown, Ep 10: Qian and Yuan

I’ve had a few people ask if I was going to do a breakdown post for the final scene between Qian and Yuan. Admittedly, I was not planning on doing so, but I like the attention 😈 so I will!

Last we left off, Qian and San Pang were having a very difficult conversation, San Pang forced Qian to think about the future and was kicked out as a result.

We start with a moment with each character to themselves. Qian closes the door behind San Pang and we see him hand at the door for a second, head hung in a way that feels very tired. He walks away from the door back to the couch to grab his glasses and wrap up the evening, when the camera cuts to Yuan sitting on the staircase, just out of sight of Qian.

We see Yuan look up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and then slowly move his eyes back to center. He is processing everything that he just heard from San Pang and Qian. Yuan is trying to keep himself composed here, he knows that Qian will be heading up the stairs eventually and so he stays seated because he wants Qian to know that he heard everything. Because Yuan is fucking mad.

Qian heads up the stairs and we get, what could not be a more perfect little deer in headlights look from Qian as he processes that Yuan has heard everything. And I do love what this show does in how it portrays its characters because Yuan is still Qian’s little brother, and his face in the camera looks like that of an upset little kid. “Xiao Yuan,” Qian says as Yuan stands up and rushes down the stairs. In such a quick moment, Chris rolls his eyes, looks up, and then down like Qian is annoyed at Yuan’s behavior while knowing that he is absolutely going to have to be the one to handle it.

Yuan brushes past him, but Qian immediately turns and follows after him, calls after him, tells him to wait. But Yuan keeps walking. Where he’s going? I have no fucking clue, but it is clear that Qian’s words aren’t going to cut it. Yuan has heard everything that Qian told San Pang. He’s heard about Qian’s wish for their happiness, he’s heard San Pang tell Qian that they love each other, that they have tried everything to make them not love each other, and what he hasn’t heard is an answer to San Pang’s question:

“Do you want him to have a future without you?”

I don’t know exactly what (if any) part of the conversation acted as the tipping point for Yuan, but he has been pissed the entire episode about Qian hiding his medical stuff from him. So I can imagine that not hearing an answer from Qian about wanting to be in Yuan’s future might serve as a last straw kind of deal.

And it marks a very important change in Qian that he runs after Yuan this time, that he physically puts himself in front of Yuan to stop him. Because he doesn’t want Yuan to go somewhere to cool off the way he did during Yuan’s first confession four years prior. He doesn’t want to just wait it out. He actually wants to talk to Yuan about where his head is at. That is huge progress from Mr. Hit First Talk Later.

“Ge.” Yuan says, and then lets out a very big breath, like he’s trying to temper his feelings, but the frustration still bleeds out of him “It was never your fault,”

Ah, here we go. What set Yuan off is Qian talking with San Pang about the Russian Roulette, reading between the lines there and understanding that Qian is scared of giving in to his feelings for Yuan because he blames himself for how deeply, how steadfastly Yuan loves him. Yuan is willing to die for him, and Qian has never had that before. He’s scared of giving in to his feelings for Yuan because he is scared of losing Yuan, and he is scared that Yuan’s love for him means Yuan will be lost because of him.

“It was never your fault,” Yuan said and he put his hands on Qian’s shoulders.

I do not even know how to describe the look Qian gives Yuan when he heard those words, nor can I really tell you what emotion(s) Qian is feeling in that moment, but I can tell you that I am obsessed with that look on his face. It’s like his breath catches in his throat and there is an ambiguity there, just like there was a bit of ambiguity in the head nod he gave San Pang, because he’s out of breath from running after Yuan, but there is also this chance that the pause in his breathing there is because of what Yuan said. Anyway:

“Even though I know that in the end you might not want all that I’ve given-”

Yuan says, while Qian looks down in the direction of his shoulders, where Yuan’s hands were just a moment ago. They made excellent casting choices here, I actually think for this scene it is really important that Kurt is taller than Chris, because it adds some extra power to Yuan’s position for me here. The way Yuan looks down at Qian makes him seem even more pissed off about the entire situation, almost like he’s belittling Qian. He wants to dig a knife in here, and he’s being successful at it

“Hearing it first hand still hurts a little,”

And we are back in our original confession dynamic. Qian is not looking at Yuan, Yuan refuses to look away from Qian. Qian looks kind of out of it, I would say he is dissociating a little bit, but I actually think what is happening here is that Qian is getting hit with the full force of Yuan’s words. I think he is absorbing and processing everything that is being said and understanding how not making a decision is hurting Yuan. Mostly because of how quick his reaction time is to trying to stop Yuan from walking away immediately after he says it hurts.

“I’ll be fine. I just need some time.” Yuan says, and I do think he means it. I think when Yuan came back from the States he had reached a point where he could live without Qian changing their relationship status, even if he didn’t want to.

But as Yuan tries to walk away, Qian stops him.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” look at him using his words! Qian looks so fucking exhausted when he does. The world has weighed heavy on him for so long, he’s been fighting an internal battle with himself about his feelings for Yuan for ages. It’s a lot, and the way Chris holds Qian here makes it feel like a lot. But, Yuan finally settles, because Qian is willing to engage in conversation. He is trying to clarify a misunderstanding, he is not outright rejecting Yuan here, he is not running away from talking about his feelings for Yuan. And so Yuan can stay, because there is some hope left there for him to hold on to.

He releases another huge breath, he stretches for just a second, grounding himself. He looks back at Qian “Then what do you mean?”

Qian stares in to the void, then rolls his eyes upwards, closes his eyes, and sighs. Chris shakes his head a little, like Qian is giving up. Because he is giving up. Because Qian is about to say the words. He is about to admit that his feelings for Yuan aren’t clear cut. Yuan looks away from Qian in this moment, where Qian is getting himself together.

gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“I can’t really figure out if it is love or something else that my feelings for you are.” And at the end of this, he isn’t running from the words anymore, because he looks at Yuan and Yuan is looking back at him. When Yuan first admitted his feelings, his suffering caused Qian to avoid eye contact. When Yuan returned, Qian couldn’t stop looking at Yuan. When listening to Yuan once again speak to his feelings and tell Qian he was hurting, Qian started in his comfort zone, in the old habits of looking away. But when he is actually admitting his feelings to Yuan, he does turn to look him in the eye. He isn’t avoiding it anymore.

“Is it the love of a brother? Can we really turn it into romantic love? I don’t know.” Qian is finally having the conversation he has needed to have with Yuan. This is confusing, how do you separate your feelings out? How do you know? What happens if things don’t go well? How much are you set to lose if things devolve?”

Yuan is capable of holding, understanding, and pushing that nuance, we’ve seen him do it before at the river. “This thing between us, is it because you don’t want or you don’t dare?”

“Yes.” Qian says “All I know is I can’t live without you.”

Yuan has seen that, San Pang and Lili have seen that, we have seen that. Qian wants to be careful with how he proceeds along this path, and he is right to do so. Because it is hard to determine, when you have known someone so long, when you have raised them, when you have seen them as a brother, when you have not had love outside of the family before, when that love has existed the entire time, and has been different the entire time, and how do you recognize that when you are in it?

There is a pause.

“Four years later, you came back.”

There is another pause.

I love these pauses. I love Qian putting space between these thoughts, whether he is scrambling internally for what to say, or whether he is hesitant to voice them, I do not know. I just know that I love love love when directors allow for breathing room.

“I saw your letter of last words.”

Qian stops looking at Yuan here. Another little pause.

“That’s when I started to feel scared.”

The camera cuts to a wide shot, where both Qian and Yuan are visible. And we can see Yuan reacting to what Qian is saying. Yuan also is not making eye contact, he is fidgeting a little. But he is listening intently to Qian’s words. The blocking of this shot is interesting to me too, because the way that Chris is standing has Qian facing Yuan, but we don’t see enough of Chris’ eyes here, so while it looks like Qian is looking at Yuan, that is not necessarily the case. We have seen him look away multiple times and his head barely moves.

Qian is talking in to the void, and Yuan is picking up the signal. Another pause, and right before Qian continues talking, Yuan turns to look at him with this look of surprise on his face. His mouth is slightly agape, his eyes look soft staring at Qian.

“I’m terrified,” Qian says. “What if you had no chance to come back? I don’t know what I would do.”

Yuan looks at Qian, looks away, looks up like he is trying to decide how to feel. What type of treatment he should be giving to Qian at this moment. Should he be bitter, should he be harsh, should he be soft?

“Wei Qian.” Yuan says

AND I WILL ONCE AGAIN SHAKE MY FIST AT THE SUBTITLES FOR TRANSLATING GE AS QIAN BECAUSE IT SO SEVERELY CUTS THE IMPORTANCE OF MOMENTS LIKE THIS ONE.

Qian cannot figure out his feelings! He can’t figure out if he loves Yuan like a brother or something more! So Yuan cuts the brother out of it. He calls Qian by his name. He calls him Wei Qian, he puts the separation up for Qian. Is this the love of a brother? That’s an easier question to answer when you aren’t being called ‘brother’. How do you feel when you aren’t being reminded of your connection?

I do not have the ability to describe the way Kurt’s mouth moves here, but I love the expression he gives Yuan as he finishes saying Wei Qian. He’s clearly going for a soft approach. Qian’s mouth, which hangs open just slightly, closes shut.

“I’ve told you. I can sum up my life in two words: Wei Qian.” A smile starts to creep up his face. That’s love, bitch! Yuan was pissed, but now that Qian has stopped him, not that Qian has voices his hesitations, now that Qian has admitted that he can’t live without Yuan, even if he doesn’t know what his feelings for Yuan are, the love Yuan has for Qian melts the anger and lets the love bleed through. “But I’m not making you take responsibility for me.”

This is a very important character trait of Yuan’s. One of the first things we saw of teenage Yuan was him grabbing one of the household bills. Yuan has been working side hustles while in school. He’s been helping pay the bills. He’s been as helpful as he possibly can be at all times, because this was a home he was given, not a home he was born in to.

GOD DAMMIT CHRIS IS SO GOOD. ALL HE DID WAS MOVE HIS EYEBALLS LIKE…TWO CENTIMETERS AND THAT WAS ENOUGH TO KILL ME.

Yuan is saying all the things that Qian needs to hear. Yuan can sum his life up with Qian, Qian fed him, Qian kept him warm, Qian gave him a home, Qian gave him love. Qian has seen Yuan as his responsibility since they were kids, but Yuan has wanted nothing but to be a support system for Qian. I said it before, that Yuan is the only person who continuously helps Qian to whom Qian is not beholden. Qian owes San Pang and his family, Qian owes Le and the gang, Qian owes Xiong. Qian does not owe Yuan. Qian does not see Yuan as someone that owes him.

That small little eye motion are some gears clicking in to place in Qian’s head. That small little eye motion is Qian well and truly listening to what Yuan is saying.

And here comes the parallel:

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“Did you come after me because you feel guilty, or because you care?” (this thing between us, is it because you don’t want or you don’t dare?)

A genuine question that Yuan is using to try to push Qian in to allowing himself finally see his feelings through to the end. Qian is standing here before Yuan telling him that he does not know what his feelings for Yuan are. Even though those In The Know (Yuan and San Pang) can see the truth in Qian clear as day, Qian himself has not admitted it.

So Yuan gives him a test.

Qian pauses for a moment, starts to shake his head, blinks.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“I really don’t know,” he says

Qian has failed the test.

Yuan’s soft smile has a hint of sadness in it now.

“You don’t need to know.” Yuan leans back against the wall, looking up at the sky. Qian is looking straight ahead, once again not making eye contact with Yuan “It’s always been my problem. Going home with you.”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

The weight of what Yuan is saying hits. Qian looks at the ground. Complete opposite direction as Yuan.

“Getting attached to you. Falling for you.”

Qian closes his eyes and sighs, pulling his head up from where it was pointed. It’s like he can’t get used to hearing Yuan confess. Like it hits him every time Yuan says he’s in love with Qian and has been forever.

“Wanting you all my life.”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

That is too much for Qian. Even with his eyes closed, even though he can’t see Yuan right now, he has to face away.

“It was never your fault.” Yuan says, and Qian’s eyes open ever so slightly.

And I just have to say that it is really really important to me that with all of Qian’s trauma, with everything he has suffered, with the stuff he went through with his mother, that he finally has someone tell him that it wasn’t his fault. There is naturally a lot of hesitation in changing the way you see someone you have raised, someone you have looked at and treated as a brother, and suddenly see them as someone to be romantically interested in.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

So it is important to me that Yuan tells Qian he did nothing wrong. That Yuan’s feelings here are entirely his own, borne of his own mind and body, and that there is no aspect of Yuan’s feelings for him that Qian pressured him in to. That Yuan will be fine, eventually, if Qian does not reciprocate his feelings. Qian is not being forced in to anything here, and neither is Yuan. And I am so so so glad that Qian got to hear that. Twice!

Anyway, Qian’s eyes open ever so slightly right as Yuan starts walking away, shoulder checking Qian on his way out.

“Wait.” Qian grabs Yuan by the wrist “Wei Zhiyuan.”

gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Yuan’s eyes are locked on to Qian’s hand around his wrist. He once again looks surprised that Qian would be brave enough to stop him from leaving. We get a shot of their hands (😈) and Yuan ever, ever so slowly raises his eyes to look at Qian.

Qian has passed the test at the last second.

#here you go for the people who asked if I was going to write the staircase scene #got this in right under the wire before tomorrow becomes all episode 11 stuff #unknown #unknown the series #unknown the series analysis #unknown the series meta #unknown the series episode 10 #chris chiu #kurt huang #taiwanese bl #wka long post

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vinillain · 2 days

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Great wave chapter 2 spoilers// analysis cuz ahahahaha Adamai… when I get you…

Alr, rant because I’m the biggest Yugo & Adamai fan of all time. And I overanalyzed this chapter to death.

And how the way Adamai treats Yugo is one of the main reasons he’s distant from Amalia.

This pattern of behavior isn’t new, in s4 he was quick to come to Yugo’s defense when Nora was chastising him. Using words like “we” and because both of them were still feeling the euphoria of their reconciliation came to each-others defense in a new unfamiliar environment. But after he sees how shady and “heroic” their family is he ops to leave, and does so without explaining himself (about the dofus) to Yugo or trys to convince him to come along. Something he definitely would have done in s1-2. (And this is because they have grown so far apart the bond they once had is distant, albeit still there)

This behavior is similar, and again appears here in their entire conversation.

Yugo who was brooding and trying to be alone after his vision is greeted by Adamai, who IS genuinely worried about Yugo, since Yugo now carries the dofus of their people he and Adamai’s bond is “strengthened tenfold” allowing him to “almost hear his thoughts” and definitely feel his fear and dark feelings. And he immediately calls Yugo out when he tries to hide how upset he was (which tbh he likely does because of Adamai’s next reaction in a bit, meaning this is a common cycle)

Eventually after some talk Yu breaks down and is honest that he isn’t okay. That his visions terrified him, and here Adamai isn’t dismissive right off the bat, he states that he could feel how bad it was because of their bond, and knew it must have been bad if it shook Yugo up this much

And Yugo tells him about the vision and how “I am the cause.” To which Adamai questions as he seems to think internally, and Yugo like in chapter one with Amalia doesn’t question anything, again he only says “It was real.”

(I am roughly paraphrasing their dialogue so it’s not 100% accurate)

At this point Adamai scoffs at him to which Yugo who’s still upset by his vision flips out on him starting an argument. Asking if he “bores” Adamai

And Adamai tells him he needs to think with his head. He possesses the power of a god and can’t afford to think with emotions. Which is true, TOT said that Adamai was the logic to Yugo’s actions. He is the thought and the anchor, but while he isn’t wrong for saying this, the way he went about it is making things worse, but it also it makes sense why he did act this way towards Yugo.

Adamai is not someone who bases his feelings on emotions anymore.

He’s spent his entire childhood training and getting ready to meet Yugo and find their people. After the loss of Grougal he has spent his entire life trying to fill the void with an adult parental figure who holds power and wisdom that can help him achieve his goals the way he knows mortals can’t. Hence the “we needed someone with more guidance” like in s4 to Yugo. We don’t see exactly what happened to him from the OVA’s-s3. But we know it had a drastic change on him physically and especially mentally. And a big part of that is that he essentially became a vessel to their peoples dofus. In order to cope with his own trauma and feelings and taking on that responsibility of all this power he surprised any emotions or feelings that could cause him to act rash or get in the way of his main goals.

And when he did let his emotions take over because of his blind rage, he ended up hurting people he cared about which left him even more apprehensive to show any ever again. (Hence why he left his newly found family in s4) But in doing this to such an exstent the way he does, he never actually solves any personal problems of conflicts. Especially with his loved ones. He can’t rekindle his bond with Yugo or try to fix their relationship because he refuses to show any vulnerability. Which makes sense after he was left behind, betrayed and hurt so many times, and more so when he realized that he hurt others in his own pain. He doesn’t want to get hurt or hurt others again.

And as he states, Yugo has power beyond any mortal comprehension. He now carries the weight and responsibility of their people, and their siblings dofus. Honestly just their peoples future in general. He holds power, power many people want to steal from him or rid him of. Adamai compares Yugo’s situation to how he had to handle the dofus. That he needs to swallow any emotions and think logically. Which he has always done more out of the two of them. Vulnerability is a weakness to him. And Adamai doesn’t want Yugo to get hurt or hurt others like he has in the past.

He is cruel and harsh in his words. Telling Yugo he does “bore” him. And completely downplays his twin’s feelings because he sees them as being weak. But he DOES care about Yugo, in his eyes Yu will end up suffering more if he shows this vulnerability. It’s why he is mean and tells Yugo he can’t be acting like a child when he has all this responsibility and power in his hands. This isn’t the same when they were little kids, the stakes for them and their people are much hire now.

But to Yugo, who’s tried to fix their relationship countless times, is naturally upset at this. He feels unheard, that’s he’s being over dramatic and that his feelings don’t matter. That he isn’t allowed to be upset at his own trauma. Which is something i think paralells Goddess Eliatrope. How people dismiss her feelings and say she’s overreacting. That she needs to “get over herself” because she is a great goddess with all this power. Etc. something I hope we see more with Yugo aswell.

Being a king already isolates him enough, being a demigod with all this power does so even more. To Yugo, Adamai is the only one he can turn too when he’s upset. It’s why he was so desperate to find him in s3. Over growing old and being immortal. The problems that mortals can’t comprehend. (Something that definitely upsets him because the more power and godhood he gains the more distance he has between himself and his loved ones.) But when he opens up to Adamai about his fears and issues he is shut down or ignored. And that’s why he won’t open up to Amalia. If Ad dismisses and scoffs at his feelings then why should he try to open up to her? He adores and loves Amalia and fears the rejection she might give him. It’s why the moment she was slightly dismissive with her “Calm down, it was just a dream” he immediately leaves to be alone. He already has to deal with Adamai, he doesn’t want her to do it to him too.

But by doing this he is hurting her too. Like him Amalia is STRESSED beyond belief. She has a ton of weight and responsibility on her shoulders. And she can’t manage the conflicts of her people (especially with the eliatropes) If Yugo isn’t there to help her, If Yugo won’t be vulnerable to her. If he doesn’t trust her or won’t rely on her with his problems then how can she? How can she be open with him if he runs away from her at the deepest issues when they share so much intimacy and love.

Their is already clear tension among the Sadida’s and the (VERY FEW) Eliatropes who now live among them. Many are unhappy with the changes, some openly voicing how “Armand would never have allowed this” suggesting they don’t like Yugo as their king either. And the old man talking about how he lost his son in the war, that the eliatropes haven’t faced sacrifice. (And this is despite that fact that they don’t know anything about their past or the war they went through, how they lost their own families- claiming they don’t understand Sadidan culture or tradition but never trying to learn the other sides either.)

Communication is the key to relationships. Being open and vulnerable is how we understand eachother. Something reflected in the main three so far and the Sadidans+Eliatropes. Yugo keeps shutting Amalia out because of how Adamai treats him. Creating this endless cycle of distrust among the two and it’s reflected in their own people. Both could be amazing rulers and created a better place if they were both open with each-other. But they won’t, and unless Adamai and in turn Yugo open up and show vulnerability. They don’t have to show all of it, trust is slowly gained. Little by little in a healthy manner. But if Yugo doesn’t then the discourse and tension will continue to grow among all their people. (And if you’ve seen the teaser for a certain upcoming chapter you can see how that’s going 😭😭😭)

Anyway, in conclusion: someone please get them therapy

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onceuponapuffin · 3 days

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Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!

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It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.

As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.

“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”

“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”

Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.

“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”

“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”

Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.

At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.

And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’

So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.

You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.

THAT BEING SAID

You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.

The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.

It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.

“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”

“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”

“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”

“Trying is the key word there.”

“That’s true enough I suppose.”

The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.

“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”

“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.

“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.

“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”

“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.

“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You’re my angel. No one else.”

“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”

The shop bell dings.

“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”

When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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houserautha · 1 day

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Feyd is the type to go on and on about getting his wife/partner pregnant but when it comes to actually raising a child? The dramaaaaaa(and unhealed trauma) Ideally Feyd wants to raise a strong and ruthless warrior worthy of succeeding him when the time comes but like what if the little guy(probably a boy bc the prophecy and all that)just got real unlucky in the genetics lottery all the crazy and bloodthirsty-ness his parents have just skips a generation and he's the most sensitive and shy creature to ever be born on geidi prime the most un-harkonen harkonen Feyd getting frustrated his child doesn't have the strength to pick up a sword without trembling,to shed blood without wincing,to take a life without crying canonically I think he'd just throw the kid in the woods to fend for himself Sparta style and hope they die or return and be "normal" thinks he's been coddled for far too long because he just can't accept his son is so different from him sorry to dump all this on you dude I just had to talk to this to somebody!😭💀

Wait don’t apologize I actually really love this

Feyd would be incredibly insecure about fatherhood. He would struggle to connect with a newborn and swear that his son hates him because he always bursts into tears whenever Feyd picks him up. And as a toddler?? Feyd is already as volatile as a toddler so his son would infuriate him😂 I feel like he would snap and be impatient and frustrated. And maybe because he feels so insecure about his parenting/relationship with his son, he throws himself into work so that he doesn’t have to interact with his son as much

So his son grows up with a pretty explosive, absent father. Now he’s a child, and Feyd shows an interest in him again — it’s time to learn how to fight. Feyd spars with his son until his body is mottled with bruises and snot dries on his upper lip; Feyd is appalled by his son’s “weakness” and so shocked that he lashes out at him. Feyd definitely does not understand how to regulate his emotions or disguise his thoughts.

(Now, feel free to disregard this part because it’s related to TDE) Reader knows what it’s like to have your parents disappointed in you and your capabilities, so she nurtures her son and encourages him to do what he likes. I think it would be especially funny if their son is like naturally very tall and strong but is like Ferdinand and just wants to sit in the sun and read all day😂

So reader allows their son to pursue his interests — reading and politics and academics, which he excels in. He grows into a teenager. Other children his age mock him because he is so unlike any other Harkonnen, tease him that his mother must’ve been unfaithful. Their son, in turn, keeps to himself and doesn’t have any friends.

At this point I think Feyd (sadly) would’ve given up on his son. He would occasionally force him to take up a dagger or throw a punch, claiming that no son of his would be so weak. Now, as much as the son loathes these training sessions and his father’s cruelty, he desperately wants his approval. Which is the only reason he continues to agree to let Feyd push him to the dirt over and over again, to draw blood; to belittle him.

And this would drive a wedge in between Feyd and reader’s relationship. She understands Feyd’s own unresolved trauma and the Harkonnen battle culture, but she doesn’t understand how her husband could be so unkind to their son — who looks like a combination of them both, with Feyd’s plush lips but your distinct Atreides nose, brows always pulled down in concentration over his dark eyes.

“He will never survive here,” Feyd snarls at you one evening, when the conversation naturally drifts to your son as it always does. Feyd is shaking with his heightened emotions. “I just want him to be successful.”

And you push back, “He is successful.“

“His achievements mean nothing to the other Harkonnens. They demand brutality and blood, not his…weakness.”

And maybe as their son turns eighteen (or whatever age Harkonnens are deemed an adult, maybe younger because they don’t live very long lives) Feyd sends their son on the ceremonial journey into the Giedi Prime wilderness. Reader is unable to prevent this. Their son is expected to forge his own way home or perish. Now, their son takes an abnormally long time to return but he does — half dead because he refused to kill any wildlife or steal from others, surviving only on his wit and his knowledge of survival.

Feyd is not impressed.

And maybe this strenuous relationship continues well their son’s adulthood. It’s not until a political rival challenges Feyd that he discovers just how strong his son is. The rival is peaceful and refuses to fight or draw a weapon, and Feyd knows he can’t initiate an attack without suffering the consequences. He entirely has no idea how to handle this. But his son does.

His son knows all about this rival’s culture and history, how to appeal to them, how to navigate their political court and ultimately subdue the threat that they pose. For the first time, Feyd is proud of his son.

And thus begins the turn around of their relationship and Feyd realizing that strength does not always have to be physical. His son is probably in his late twenties/early thirties by now and Feyd takes to teaching his son less aggressive ways to fight — poison and pressure points and defensive measure — and allows his son to teach him about what he knows.

It certainly doesn’t blossom and thrive overnight. They are staunchly opposed to each other’s beliefs but somewhat begrudgingly begin to trust one another and build respect and admiration.

Feyd doesn’t know how to apologize or how to express his guilt over his son’s wasted childhood, but you bet your ass he leaps to his son’s defense whenever he gets the chance and defends him relentlessly.

And, oh, just wait until he becomes a grandfather.

Finally he feels he can rectify his wrongs.

#wow okay there’s a whole history lesson for you #I took this and just fucking ran with it #I actually love this idea so much #and they name their son Brutus #and he is the most gentle spirit #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #these destined ends

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604to647 · 2 days

Text

Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

First Movement (Adagio sostenuto)

5.5K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: About to make your society debut and enter London's marriage mart, you don't expect an old friend whom you haven't seen in over 10 years to make a surprise appearance at the first ball of the season.

Warnings: None! Fluff! B, C, D, E, F Bridgerton make appearances. It's me so there's a cute nickname (won't spoil). The masterlist includes a few words about how this reader insert is written - essentially, no reader description other than having hair and wearing dresses in the style of this era, reader has a backstory; much of this part is exposition (so maybe a little slow but we'll get there!😊)

A/N: My plan is to post the entire series before Season 3 of Bridgerton airs, because the story is intended to take place in the background of the same season and if things don't make sense after the show comes out then oh well 🤭 I'm also only 2/3 of the way through Julia Quinn's books, so please forgive me if some of my characterizations of the Bridgertons are not wholly correct 🙏🏻

Wonderful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Series Masterlist

The Duchess of Hastings stands behind you, admiring the reflection in the mirror of the two of you together, “I dare say, if you had debuted with me during my season, there is a good chance that I may not have been the Diamond.”

“Oh, shush, your Grace,” you make a funny face at her in the mirror, to which she laughs and pokes you in the ribs, “Don’t you start with this ‘Your Grace’ business with me.”

That Daphne Bridgerton is your dearest and oldest friend in England is something you consider to be one of the great fortunes of your life, of which, as the daughter of a Count, you have many. Violet Bridgerton and your mother, the Countess, had been dear friends and as such, much of your early childhood in England had been spent at Bridgerton House, running around with not only the same aged Daphne, but her elder and younger siblings as well. The Bridgertons are one of the most beloved families of the ton, their good natured and spirited personalities recommending themselves to everyone, and accordingly, your memories of when your two families would gather remain some of the most joyous of your childhood.

Sadly, your dear mother passed away from illness when you were only seven years of age and your beloved father, who loved her more than life itself, could not bear to stay in England much without her. The Count was one of several nobles charged with governance of Her Majesty’s Royal Naval Fleet; a gentle man, his purview was primarily diplomatic (as opposed to militaristic) and he thus travelled widely, often and always for long periods of time.

Though he did not wish to remain where so many of his memories dwelled, the Count could not bear to leave his only child behind, and consequently, you had joined your father on his travels. He proudly raised a cheerful, spirited daughter who loved the seas and adventure as much as she did reading and music. Your father found that exposing you to and requiring you to immerse yourself in so many foreign cultures at a young age led you to be the most sympathetic and kind hearted child, one who others found easy to converse with and befriend on account of your good humoured nature and open minded heart. Unencumbered by the rigid etiquette requirements (and dress code!) of British high society, you happily embraced many freedoms that other young ladies of your age and breeding did not have the opportunity to enjoy. Your father taught you much about the ships and business of the naval fleet, subjects to which you took a great interest; to this day, you know your way around most ships better than some sailors. The Count was especially proud of your affinity for diplomacy, understanding the importance of fairness and tough negotiation both in foreign matters and managing fleets. You loved all of it – spending countless hours pouring over maps and letters of diplomatic matters with your father and absorbing all you could; as you got older, you took great pride in the way your father would sometimes seek your opinion and advice on business matters and delighting when he would praise you on your ideas.

While he was unorthodox, your father could not be accused of being neglectful; he would not forgo your formal and societal education, knowing that one day, you would have to return to live in England. Hiring only the most adventurous and brave governesses to accompany your travels, the Count ensured that your literary, numerical, musical and artistic accomplishments and pursuits could rival those of your peers back home. You learned to dance the dances of grand balls, though you had only the few foreign dignitary hosted events to practice. Your only other occasion to practice came when you would return for your infrequent visits to England, reuniting with your beloved Bridgertons to spend nearly all your time catching up and laughing with Daphne and her siblings, and take in what you could of British society before once again being swept away on another ship. Though brief, these reunions with your friends, coupled with your frequent letters were enough to ensure your friendships remained strong and cherished over the years.

Two years ago, Daphne had made her societal debut, meeting and marrying her love, the Duke, during the marriage season and you could not have been more delighted for your friend. That season should have also been your debut season, except that you and your father were in the Far East and would not have been able to complete the Count’s business and return in time. Since you had postponed one year, what was two? If you had your way, you would have made it three, not eager to give up the life of travel and leisure that you’ve grown accustomed to. However, when the Queen wrote to ask why the daughter of one of her esteemed Counts has not yet been presented, both you and your father had to regretfully concede that your life as a carefree sea farer was over.

And thus, you find yourself in your present circumstance: in a luxurious silk gown the colour of swan feathers, wearing what might actually be swan feathers in your hair, about to be presented to the Queen before embarking on your first social season. To be honest, you’re not terribly nervous, save for whatever nerves one always has whenever attempting something new, and you have good reasons not to be.

The first being that you are in the very capable hands of your great friend, the Duchess. The now Dowager Viscountess had promised your mother that when the time for your debut came, it would be the Bridgerton family’s honour to sponsor you. If anything, you felt that the honour was all yours – not only were you to have the support and backing of one of the most respected and revered families during your season, you would also be blessed with their company. As fortune would have it, due to the timing of your debut, Violet had prepared herself to take on the duty of presenting not one but two girls: yourself and her third eldest daughter, Francesca.

Fearing it was far too much work and pressure, you had assured Violet, whom you loved as a second mother, that she need not fret too much over you; you’re a woman of twenty-three with more world experience than most men twice your age, and encouraged her to focus her attentions on her own daughter. Violet had been aghast at the implication that she didn’t think of you as one of her daughters, and you were about to be on the receiving end of a scolding that only a mother could dispense when Daphne came to your rescue. As the Duchess of Hastings, she herself had the right to present young ladies at court, and she declared herself delighted to be your patroness this season. This was decidedly a win-win; not only could Violet concentrate on Francesca’s prospects, you could now look forward to spending the season with your dear friend by your side.

The second reason you’re not overly anxious is that despite being older than most of the girls debuting at the same time, you know you have plenty to recommend you to potential suitors. No, you are not terribly conceited nor do you hold your own attributes in such high esteem, but rather, very practically, you know most suitors will not let a small thing such as age deter them from the handsome fortune your father has bestowed upon you.

The Count was forever exasperated with the shortcomings of the laws of inheritance and how they prevented his one child from inheriting his estate, but he made up for it the best he could with the legal avenues available to him. First, he set aside a healthy dowry for you, so that you would be sure to attract a similarly healthy crop of high society gentlemen from which to choose a husband. Second, via his will, you would be provided for for the remainder of your life with a generous per annum allowance that rivaled the income of many estates; you were to want for nothing even if you never married.

And finally, known only to a select few, your father had a vast investment in an international fleet separate from the naval fleet of the queen; a beloved exploration and trade business venture that was the Count’s passion project - you and him spending many enjoyable hours pouring over the plans and movements of this fleet. The dividends from your father’s shares went directly into a trust of which you (and any future children of yours) are the sole beneficiary, though the capital had to be held by a man. It was the Count’s thinking that in addition to the income, it was only fair that you benefitted from a venture that you had invested much of your own heart and time into. Naturally, being a part of your father’s estate, this investment could be passed down to the next Count (a distant relative), but your father had other plans. If the intended recipient was willing, you father wanted to sell his shares to his future son-in-law, allowing for the dividends to continue flowing to you and so that you may remain close to the business via your husband’s involvement.

In other words, there are plenty of reasons that potential suitors who might otherwise be dismissive of your age and lack of societal presence, may find you attractive (the least of which were probably your charm and wit); you can afford to be choosy and you fully intend to be. And while you’re not quite so hopeful to wish for a great love like that of your parents, or even Daphne and her beloved Simon, you dearly wish for a husband that will understand and respect you; one who will celebrate you for your mind, experience, opinions and all the reasons why you’re different due to having grown up the way you did.

Daphne seems to have high hopes that there will be many potential suitors who will live up to your expectations. You’re less confident than she, but still more optimistic than not.

Flopping yourself down on the chaise next to Eloise, the two of you heave heavy sighs in unison. After the nerve-racking presentation to the queen earlier this week, the following days have been a non-stop flurry of ribbons, fittings, etiquette lessons and teas with the express purpose of study in the who’s who of the ton. In just a few hours, all of Violet and Daphne’s hard work and preparations will be put on display when your contingent attends the first event of the season: the Danbury Ball.

Eloise passes a box of candy to you and you select a treat gratefully. Though Daphne is your closest friend, you’ve sometimes found yourself having a fair amount in common with Eloise and know her to be a trustworthy confidant; this is one of those times. While you don’t think you have it in you to hate anything as much as Eloise despises the marriage mart, the both of you at least have the good fortune of being able to be picky with your suitors and moreover, wish to exercise that particular privilege. For Eloise, marriage is a cage. For you, it’s the not marriage itself, but a union with an imprudent match that you wish to avoid. If you can no longer be free to sail the seas and wander through the valleys and streets of the foreign lands that call your name, you must insist that the home you’re being called home to roost is at the very least, pleasant.

“I beg of you,” murmurs Eloise, “Please let all the fashionable young men fill up your dance card so that there shall be none left for me.”

You steal another piece of candy, “I’m afraid there’s more than enough young men to go around, El. Plus, you really ought to beseech Franny for your request, my dance card may struggle for applicants on account of me being such an old maid,” you giggle.

“None of that negativity now,” chimes in Daphne from the open door, “tonight is full of possibilities.”

During the season, you’re staying at Bridgerton House so to be close to all the finery of dresses, jewels, shoes, ladies’ maids and moral support that you may need. Your father is staying nearby in another house on Grosvenor Square, and comes by most days to see his daughter and dear family friends for breakfast at the very least. You have loved your life with your father, but at times like these, when you are laughing at and listening to the loving snipes and bickering of the Bridgerton siblings, you often wonder what it would have been like to have a more traditional upbringing. Pushing that thought out of your mind, you stand and pull Eloise up with you so that the two of you can follow the Duchess to the next room where you’re expected to choose from the glittering selection of dresses laid out for tonight.

As you lean towards selecting a pretty lavender gown, Daphne fills you in on the processional arrangements for your entrances tonight, “Mama, Franny, Anthony and Kate will take the first carriage, then you, Eloise and I will follow in the second. We will enter the ball in that order as well.”

“What about Colin and Ben?”

“They’re meeting with some friend from Colin’s travels whom he met in… I want to say Greece? They will make their own way and meet us at the ball.” You nod agreeably; as long as everyone is together at some point or another, your first season event will feel a lot less daunting.

---

As you walk into the Danbury estate, you cannot but feel a bit overwhelmed by all the elegance and glamour on display. Though no stranger to luxury and finer things, it’s not very often that you find yourself amidst so much opulence. Eyes shining as you take in the finery, your voice is full of excitement and genuine awe as you compliment Lady Danbury and thank her for hosting tonight’s soiree. Hand clasped tight in Daphne and Eloise’s as you make your way down the main hall to the ballroom, you see Colin further down on the right side of the hallway, waving alongside Benedict. Waiting by the wall with the Bridgerton brothers is a third gentleman, tall and broad shouldered with soft, curly brown hair who currently has his back to you; Colin has on a mischievous grin and he’s speaking to the stranger quietly, eyes flitting back to you and his sisters periodically as you approach. This can’t be good, you think with suspicion. When you’re a few steps away from meeting with the brothers, Colin gives the stranger a slight nod and he turns around; before you even have a chance to look upon the newcomer’s face, you hear a familiar sweet baritone voice say, “Hello, Dulce.”

At first, you’re in shock; the Spanish word for candy is not a nickname people commonly call you and it’s one you haven’t heard in over ten years. Then joy of recognition and realization overtake you and you completely forget where you are, crying out, “Pero!!!” Your arms behave of their own accord and fly open to wrap around his neck as you launch yourself into the handsome man’s arms.

He hugs you back firmly and whispers low in your ear, “Happy to see you, too” before releasing you, the both of you immediately stepping apart and drop your hands to your sides, remembering where you are and that the eyes of the ton are always watching. But you can’t help but beam; nor can you look away from Pero’s face.

Pero Tovar had been your most constant and beloved friend for many of your happiest childhood years spent abroad. Pero’s father, a Barón of Spain, was in charge of naval governance for his country in a similar capacity as your father was for England and accordingly, their paths crossed regularly in foreign countries. Both men of gentlemanly dispositions, the Count and the Barón had forged a deep and lasting friendship as they conducted their business. Another thing that they had bonded over was the fact that they were both widows who uncharacteristically chose to bring and raise their children with them on their travels.

So, although Pero is eight years your elder and already in his early teens when you first met, being the only two children of sea loving foreign diplomats in the strange lands you found yourselves in readily recommended you to each other and you had become happy and frequent playmates. Pero devoted hours and hours to your amusement, allowing himself to play more juvenile games of pretend that he may not otherwise with compatriots of his own age, and with his encouragement you grew to be brave and curious, always wishing to keep up with the older boy. He helped you with your studies, and you played music for him, learning and mastering the pieces he enjoyed the most. The two of you shared a love of literature and it became your special version of a traditional hunt in each new country you landed in to find foreign language versions of the other’s favourite books so that you could read the translations alongside your worn English copies. Some of the most cherished copies of your favourite books, ones you carry with you from country to country still, were gifts from Pero.

As you got older, your shared adventures expanded to include exploring the streets of new cities, trying local cuisines and frolicking on the beaches of the coasts of Italy, Portugal and even India. The last time you had seen him, he was a strapping young man of twenty and you had been twelve. His father was returning to Spain for an undetermined amount of time to deal with affairs of his estate, and Pero would be entering university, having postponed his acceptance for two years already. Although you had each promised to write, the letters were far and few between and eventually you lost track of Pero – you can hardly blame either of you; you were travelling with your father and not always easy to find, and you didn’t really expect a young man concentrating on his studies to have the time to write to a young girl despite having been her very best friend for so many years.

But now he’s standing right in front of you and you can hardly believe your eyes. He’s impossibly tall and wide, a far cry from the lanky boy with whom you scrambled over rocks on the beaches of Portugal, but he’s still tanned, leading you to surmise that he must still sail or at least get a healthy amount of sun regularly. And while his face is older, devastatingly handsome with a cutting jawline partially hidden by untamed facial scruff, he’s completely recognizable to you. An easy clue is the scar that runs from above his left eyebrow down past his eye, though faded from when you saw it last, but it’s the indulgent smile he’s giving you right now that gives him away to you.

“What are you doing at this ball? Did you know I would be here?” you can’t help but continue to stare at Pero wide-eyed, grinning like a fool.

“Oh! We made the connection earlier this week at dinner,” chimes in Colin, “We were going to bring him over to the house but thought this would be more fun.”

You make to swat at Colin’s arm. “How did you meet this scoundrel?” you jest, with absolutely no malice in your voice, pointing your thumb at the still laughing Bridgerton brother. As your group starts to move towards the ballroom, Pero falls into an easy step by your side, “We met when Colin was taking in the crisp sea air of Mykonos, and then again last year in the vineyards of Tuscany. He made for excellent company after a long day of helping the locals prune grape vines. Naturally, when I arrived in London for business this month, I had to look him up.”

Daphne is now tugging you towards the ballroom by your hand, and in turn, you’ve grabbed onto and are practically dragging Eloise down the hall with you. You shout back to Pero, “I want to hear everything!” and can’t help the smile that spreads across your excited face when he nods after you.

“Oh!” you breathe, invigorated from the surprise of seeing Pero, as you come to a stop right before the entrance way. Daphne smiles over at you, “It was so hard keeping it a secret from you!”

You’re astonished, “You knew about Pero as well?”

“Yes, I thought it might give you an additional boost of confidence to have another friend’s support during your first event.”

You smile at your sweet friend and squeeze her hand affectionately, “Thank you! It does and I’m delighted to see Pero again. But in truth, my confidence could never be lacking when I have a friend like you next to me.”

Daphne gives you her biggest smile and squeezes your hand right back. A moment later, the three of you step into the ballroom and meet the gazes of the other attendees as you’re announced.

---

The ball is a whirlwind. It seems you hardly have a moment to even catch your breath, never mind catch up with Pero. From the moment you walked in to the grand hall, you were pulled in this direction and then that, introduced to new person after new person, some of whose names were familiar from your visits home over the years, and others only from the copious amounts of study you’ve done on the ton over the past week. You’ve certainly forgotten all their names by now.

Then it’s dance after dance after dance with the young gentleman that Daphne parades in front of you. The dancing itself is quite pleasant and a lovely way to shake out some of your jitters, but you find the small talk hardly enough to get to know your partners, and when the dance is over and you’re once again being whisked away to another introduction or meeting that the Duchess has lined up for you. The few opportunities you’ve had to take a breather and indulge in a glass of lemonade, you’ve been happy to retreat back to Pero and your small familiar group; but just when you’ve started to entreat your old friend to open up about his adventures since you saw him last, another potential suitor will be introduced and the entire cycle starts over again.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the evening that the frenzy has died down enough that you can observe and be amused by Pero’s behaviour at the ball. While you’re constantly twirling around the dancefloor, you notice that he never leaves his position against the wall and doesn’t dance at all; he mainly scowls and looks displeased, hardly speaking to anyone other than the Bridgertons or you when you have a free moment. You feel his eyes follow you as you glide across the dance floor with the young men that have asked you to dance, and even when you’re making your way through the room on Daphne’s arm, meeting and making small talk with the other families of the ton. When you do happen to look up and search for him, you often find him glowering and looking dissatisfied, though if you catch his eye, his expression will soften slightly.

Once while you were dancing with Lord Whitfield, you had caught Pero’s eye mid-turn and made a silly quizzical face at him, as if to ask What’s going on with you? and you think you see him laugh briefly before the steps of the dance require you to turn away from him. You wonder why frowns so fearsomely and if there’s a reason for him to be so stoic and curt with the rest of the ton. It’s so odd to you as you’ve never had so much as a cross word from him in all the time you’ve known him, not even when you had snuck out of the compound in Singapore when you were nine so you could watch the fireworks display. Pero had come looking for you, his face serious and eyes panicked when he finally found you in the busy square, but he never once got mad. Instead, he swore not to tell your father, and promised that if you had wanted to see the fireworks up close, he would accompany you. And then he did just that the next night and the night after that. But here, when not engaging the company of his friends, Pero’s countenance is positively sour. Any hopes harboured by the mamas of the ton for snagging a Spanish nobility son-in-law this season are quickly dashed. Barón Tovar is decidedly not here to find a wife.

With the evening more than half over, you realize that unless you make the point to do so, an opportunity to speak more than a few minutes with Pero will surely not present itself. And while you are having fun meeting potential suitors, your mind consistently wanders to Pero throughout the evening. Aside from simply wishing to catch up with him and be in his comforting presence, you do have something important you feel compelled to speak to him on.

After a particularly spirited quadrille, you curtsey your gratitude for the dance to Mr. Sedgewick, and before any of the young men you spy hovering nearby can approach you, you hurry as elegantly as you can toward where Pero is standing awkwardly pressed to the wall.

Pero, having seen the look of determination on your face when seeking him out, asks with concern when you come up to him, “Is everything okay, Dulce?”

There he is, you smile when you see the kind, gentle expression of the boy that you knew for so many years, “Everything is fine, Pero. Although I must admit to needing a respite from all the endless socializing. Do you think we could get some lemonade?”

“Of course. I would be happy to accompany you in fetching a glass.”

With Pero by your side, any person who previously had designs on engaging you during this brief break between dances now thinks better of it; you chuckle to yourself as his fearsome expression comically paves a clear path for you to the refreshments table. Once having secured your drink, you ask Pero if you can speak to him privately.

Careful not to lead you from view of other people lest it incite a scandal, Pero finds a quiet place in the entrance hallway and turns to find you looking up at him rather seriously.

When you’re certain you have his attention, you launch into your confession, “Pero, please allow me to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your father’s passing. I remember him as such a kind, generous man, and such a wonderful friend to my father and by extension, me. I will always think of him with tremendous fondness.”

“Thank you, Dulce. I know he thought very highly of both you and your father and forever treasured your friendships.”

But you’re not done and start to shake your head, eyes filling with tears, “And I’m so very sorry that I did not write to you at the time. I didn't know where you were, but I should have been more diligent in my efforts to find you. I deeply regret not being there for you if you needed someone. I hope you were not alone during that difficult time.”

You hang your head in shame. Pero feels a deep affection for you blossoming in his chest; before him is the same sweet and compassionate girl he knew when he was a boy. Tender-hearted and endlessly considerate of the feelings of others, you always had more empathy than you knew what to do with; he himself had been on the receiving end of your care and concern more times than he could count. Pero gently tips you chin up with his gloved finger, “It was a tough time and I miss him a great deal. But he was an incredible man and I strive to follow the example he set for me everyday. So, in many ways, he is still with me. No need for any apologies.” He gives you what he hopes is a soft and reassuring smile.

In return, you grin, “Who are you and what have you done with my friend? The boy I knew would have made me pay dearly for even the slightest offense - my portion of dessert for a week, at the very least.”

Unable to hold back his own grin, Pero is finding it easy to slip back into this familiar type of playful banter with you, “Well, I was trying to be a gentleman, but since you think me nothing more than a brute, I shall have no trouble devising an appropriate punishment. For your transgression against me, I demand… a dance.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and it feels wonderful to laugh loudly at something genuinely funny rather than the quiet polite laughter you’ve been making most of the evening. “A dance? Well, that is hardly a concession for me! One dance with you means one less spot on my dance card for some lord I don’t know but who Daphne thinks I might find charming,” you joke.

“Are you finding your potential suitors so far to be villains or are they all just very boring?” smirks Pero.

Giving him a little punch in the arm to show him you’re not really complaining, “I am not so terribly unfeeling. They are for the most part fine enough gentlemen. The particular circumstance we find ourselves in just makes them so very eager. It can feel terribly awkward.”

“None of them are good enough for you anyway.”

“Oh, and you are?” you jest, eyes full of mirth.

“Dulce, I’m the worst of the bunch,” counters Pero, leaning in close.

“I don’t doubt it,” you haven’t smiled this wide all evening.

“Be that as it may, the price you must pay to regain my favour remains the same. Shall we?” Pero holds out his arm, waiting for you to accept his dance invitation; you hold on to him gratefully and head back into the main ballroom, realizing this is the first dance of the ball that you’ve truly looked forward to.

When Pero takes his place across from you, the tittering from the crowd that the Barón has finally taken to the dance floor can be heard over the opening notes of the music. You can’t help but giggle, and Pero beams back at you – your light laughter more melodic than any music he’s ever heard.

Hand firmly curling around your waist, Pero sways you to the beat and the two of you carry out the steps of the dance comfortably together. You hadn’t realized how much stress you’ve been under or how much tension you’ve been holding in until now, when you find yourself actually relaxing in Pero’s strong hold. For the first time this evening, you’re dancing without nerves or the pressure of having to make polite conversation or a good first impression; you can simply be. You sigh in contentment.

“What is it, Dulce? Are my dance skills not to the standard set by your other partners this evening?”

“Hardly,” you chuckle, “I know for a fact that you dance remarkably well. And if I were to have any complaints, the blame would rest squarely on my shoulders since we learned these dances together.”

“That’s true, we can only be as good as the partners we practice with.”

“Exactly. At least that’s what Madam used to say, right before she would rap you on your shoulders with her rhythm baton,” you muse, nostalgic.

“That weapon had a name? I have not thought of Madam for many years now, but upon my word if I did not straighten up and stiffen my arms just now.”

You share another chortle as only two close friends with a long history of fond memories and inside jokes between them can. When you sigh again, Pero cocks his scarred eyebrow at you.

“Do not think me dissatisfied, my Lord. It is simply just so comfortable dancing with you, as if it has not been over ten years since we last did so.”

“I feel the same way, Dulce.”

You smile sincerely at Pero; although you could explain yourself further, you somehow know that he understands your meaning without you having to do so. Feeling content, both heart and mood light in the safety of Pero’s closed frame, you find yourself wishing that you could spend the rest of the ball dancing with only him.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @titabel

#pero tovar #regency!pero tovar #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #bridgerton au #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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bumblekastclips · 3 days

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KYLE CROUSE: And we’ve got a question from Jill! “Do NOT worry, this is definitely not a fan idea that's usable!” IAN FLYNN: That makes me nervous. KYLE: I mean, I think they’re right, but… [continuing to read] “I have a headcanon that in the future, swear words kinda lost their meaning and filtered into normal speech and are no longer offensive, so in present time Silver is going round swearing like crazy using the foulest words in his conversations but obviously has no idea what he’s doing. How do his friends react? Who’s going to tell him? Who finds it funny? More importantly, how does Vanilla react to him dropping the F-bomb in front of Cream?”

youtube

IAN: [chuckling] KYLE: [laughs] Yeah, I don’t think you can use that one, Ian. IAN: True enough, true enough. I think most folks would be a trifle taken aback, because they are… generally nice and genteel people. I mean, even Eggman would be slightly flustered— he- he thinks himself a gentleman. KYLE: Weird. IAN: [as Eggman] “What language do you use, young man?!” Sonic would think it’s funny. KYLE: [laughs] IAN: Like, maybe the first F-bomb would kinda catch him off guard, and then he realizes that Silver doesn’t mean it that way, it’s just part of his personal lexicon. And he’s just like, [snort] “Alright buddy! You do you, alright!” KYLE: [laughing] He’s not gonna stop him! IAN: [as other character] “Are you gonna tell him to stop?” [as Sonic] “Noooo.” KYLE: [laughs] IAN: Uh, Knuckles doesn’t flinch ‘cause, y’know, he’s lived alone his whole life, he doesn’t know those words. KYLE: Yeah, yeah, yeah. IAN: If anything, he’s learning a new dialect! KYLE: [giggles] Uh, how does Knuckles know any words? IAN: That is a question we’re not gonna answer. Anyway— KYLE: Oh, okay. IAN: And Vanilla… mmm, she’s just gonna punt Silver back to the future. KYLE: [cackles] IAN: When that shoe reaches 88 miles per hour, you’re gonna see some serious shit! KYLE: [laughs]

—— TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: Please remember that nothing that is said on BumbleKast is canon! It’s just some guys and their opinions occasionally spitballing ideas. If you don’t like an answer, you don’t have to take it as Word of God or anything like that. It’s all just for fun!

#bumblekast #ian flynn #kyle crouse #sonic the hedgehog #idw sonic #archie sonic #silver the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #vanilla the rabbit #cream the rabbit #eggman #dr eggman #Youtube

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noddaduck · 3 days

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What gets me about Kipperlilly is that while her trauma envy is messed up, she really is facing an opposite problem to the Bad Kids.

Some people on here are saying that if she wanted to go on big adventures she should have done it herself and not expected some kind of plot hook to give her an opening. But we are seeing how that is going for the Bad Kids this season, and it clearly sucks. Fabian went on his first date with Mazey, yet so much of that conversation and role play was still about the mystery and the mission. Gorgug lost a chance to spend time with his bio parents because he was trying to get into a really learning heavy class. The Bad Kids are such good friends, but they can only spend time together in shared classes or as part of the mission. Why would you expect that of anyone?

Most Aguefort kids aren’t going on big real-world adventures like the Bad Kids cause that’s literally being in High School while also working a full time career oriented job. And yet some of these kids know that this is all just leading up to that real job that they’ve never really experienced or seen proof that they could handle. Is it so weird for a child to want confirmation that they’ll be able to do all the things they’re supposed to do as an adult, especially when they are seeing other kids get that confirmation?

Riz isn’t strong because he suffered, he’s strong because he has an amazing mom he looked up to and learned from and who taught him. Having that vision of his own best self, not just a copy of another person but really something he loves that he was able to really learn thanks to the support he was lucky to get DESPITE his and his mom’s financial situation. He chased his own dream of being a master detective, of dishing out justice, and he got so good at it that it let him kill an ancient red dragon.

Personally, I was one of the smart kids in class, but I wasn’t one of the gifted and talented. One kid was working with circuitry in a class where I was learning about screws and levers. In a photography class I got paired up with a kid in a lower grade than me who full on made his own model rocket fuel for homemade bottle rockets. Combining that with having ADHD that nobody properly educated me about, I always thought I was just missing something. I’m taking my medicine, I’m going to class and trying to join clubs, why is it that every time I ask someone to teach me they don’t have time for a total beginner? Why is being my own teacher the only way to learn these things, and why can’t I do that if apparently everyone else does?

I just don’t blame Kipperlilly for being upset when she is presented with the Bad Kids as an example to follow despite the fact that neither she NOR the Bad Kids are given proper time to actually work toward that goal. The Bad Kids don’t actually have the time for adventures on top of their regular lives, but they are forced to do it anyway. Kipperlilly allowed for time so the Rat Grinders could have whatever their normal lives looked like, at least until they all were taken by Ancarna. If your choice is to either work yourself to death and be told you did the correct thing, or to take your time and be shown that you are wasting it, why wouldn’t you be angry?

#dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high #fhjy #fhjy spoilers

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steddiecameraroll · 12 hours

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Why Can't We Try?

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: Mature

Words: 22,103

Tags: Angst with Happy Ending, Flirting, Slow Burn, Eddie teaches Steve to play guitar, Steve is bad at feelings, Singer Eddie Munson, Awkward Tension

Steve bites into his burger, watching Dustin and Mike bicker about the latest DnD campaign from Hellfire. Eddie sits beside him, laughing every once in a while. Robin and Nancy are conversing at the end of the table while El, Will, Max, Lucas, Argyle, and Jonathan are off playing arcade games.

“What about you, Steve?”

Steve wasn’t listening and realized he’d been zoning out for a few minutes. Apparently, no one had spoken to him in a while. “What?”

“Favorite movie, what is it?”

“Oh, um. I don’t know. I liked Star Wars, Back to the Future, and Fast Times. I don’t have a favorite, I guess.”

“But you work at a video store.” Eddie pokes Steve’s shoulder playfully.

Steve smiles a little, “I know, I’m crazy.”

Eddie returns to his conversation with Mike and Dustin, and Steve takes another bite of his food. It was nice getting everyone together, but Steve was often left as the odd man out now that everyone was buddying up. Robin spent much more time with Nancy these days, and now that Eddie was a part of the fold, it’s not as if he spent alone time with Steve.

Steve slides off his chair, sets his napkin on the table, and heads towards the exit door. He doesn’t smoke as much as he used to, but sometimes it is the excuse he needs to escape from everyone. The cool night air surprises him when he steps through the doorway. They’d been inside for hours before the sun had set, and now that it was dark outside, the mood shifted.

He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and fished out his lighter. Pulling a loose cigarette up through the pack, he lifts it to his mouth and pulls it between his lips. He flicks the lighter, holding the flame at the tip.

“Can I have one?”

Steve is startled to find Eddie approaching him. He didn’t hear him come outside.

“Sure,” he lifts the pack, offering it to Eddie.

Eddie places it between his lips and leans close to Steve, insinuating that it be lit. Steve lifts his hands and flicks the lighter, hiding the flame from the air. Eddie is standing so close to him that he can smell his aftershave. Knots form in Steve’s stomach, being within such proximity.

Eddie raises his eyebrows in appreciation and steps back, leaning against the wall and taking a long pull. Steve catches himself staring and distracts himself with his cigarette. They stand silent for a few minutes taking puffs off their respective cigarettes.

“It’s nice out here.” Eddie’s eyes scan the night sky. “Kinda loud in there.”

“It is an arcade,” Steve’s reply is more clipped than intended. He flicks his cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with his toe, and heads inside. Lately, he doesn’t know how to act around Eddie, making him uncomfortable.

“Well fuck you then.”

Steve grips the door handle and turns back, surprised. Eddie smirks at him and winks playfully. Steve can’t hold back a grin and rolls his eyes, heading indoors.

“Where ya been, dingus?” Robin asks when Steve settles back into his seat.

“Needed some air. Where’s Nance?”

“She went to go check on everyone else.”

“You two are getting chummy.” Steve raises an eyebrow at her.

“We’re friends. Isn’t that a good thing? She at least doesn’t hate my guts because she thinks I’m in love with you anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, I’ll admit. My best friend is friends with my ex-girlfriend, but whatever.”

Eddie returns to the table and slides his hands across the smooth top. “What are you two talking about?”

“How much Robin’s in love with Nancy.” Steve takes a sip of his drink and watches her reaction.

“WHAT?” She can’t hide the blush rushing up her neck.

“What?” Eddie laughs.

“Stop it, no, I’m not, no. I like Vickie, stop. No, I do not like Nancy. Nancy’s well…Nancy.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve shrugs.

Eddie leans his head back and continues laughing.

“Shut up!” Robin tosses a french fry across the table, hitting him square in the chest. The fry lands gently on his lap, and he looks down, plucks it up, and takes a dramatic chomp out of it.

“From here, it looks like that’s what is happening. I’ve been watching you two all night, and now I understand how you feel when you bitch about my flirting.”

“You’ve seen the Harrington flirt in action?” Eddie perks up and turns intrigued.

“Ugh, yes, to my dismay.”

“Shut up. It’s not that bad.” Steve tosses a wadded-up napkin at Robin.

“You know what I used to do at Scoops?” Robin smiles wide.

“Robin, don’t.” Steve gives her a wide-eyed glance.

“I would keep track of how many failures he had. He was up to 6 Sucks before he and knucklehead number two over there,” Robin motions to Dustin with her head, “erased it trying to figure out that stupid Russian code.”

“What?” Eddie laughs and looks at her, befuddled.

“The Russian code? You know, the …” Robin tilts her head questioningly.

“He doesn’t know, Rob,” Steve says quietly.

“Holy shit!” Her mouth drops open, and she glances between the two boys.

Eddie shrugs. “No clue.”

“So, wait. If you don’t know about the Russians, you don’t know about the goo people.”

“And if he doesn’t know about the goo people, he doesn’t know about Dart.” Steve tacks on.

“Or about Will,” Robin says solemnly.

“Byers? I mean, I know he went missing a few years ago. That’s what you mean?”

“Yeah,” Steve gives a tight-lipped nod. “He was in the Upside Down that whole time.”

“What!?” Eddie leans in with excitement. “I didn’t know that. Dustin and Mike never said shit.”

“I mean, do you blame them?” Steve shrugs.

“Not really. Who would’ve believed them? I would’ve had no clue if I didn’t see it with my eyes. So that’s why you guys believed me?”

“Yeah, we’d seen it and then some. Rob wasn’t there for that stuff, but we got involved with the Russians last summer. That whole Starcourt Mall thing? That was us.”

“The fire?” Eddie scrunches his face trying to understand all the puzzle pieces being explained to him.

“It wasn’t a fire. Billy, Max’s brother, had been possessed by a creature called the Mind Flayer, one of Vecna’s goons. It was a whole thing that involved people turning into goop and old ladies eating fertilizer. It’s hard to explain.”

“Where were the Russians? How did you guys get involved?” He points between Steve and Robin.

“Well, we overhead this Russian code. Well, I mean, Dustin did, and he came to me to try and solve it. Robin was being nosey and helped.”

“Nosey?” She squealed. “Without me, you would’ve never solved it. You only helped by recognizing that merry-go-round song.”

“Which was incredibly important, mind you.” Steve crossed his arms.

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes. “I helped crack the code, and it took us to this hidden elevator that the Russians had put under the mall as they were trying to drill into the Upside Down. I hate elevators now and will never do a single drug, prescription or otherwise.”

“How the fuck did you all get wrapped up in this shit? If this has been happening to you for years, how does no one else know?”

“Well, it’s because of El. Mike and the boys found her in the woods, and it all snowballed. The guys that had her were doing experiments, which had this ripple effect.” Steve picks up a french fry and plops it into his mouth.

“This all sounds like a ridiculous DnD campaign. Wait,” Eddie presses his thumb against his mouth, and Steve observes. “Mike did use something similar in one of his campaigns. That cheat. I thought he had this great idea and was super creative. This whole time he was just using real-life shit. I mean crazy real-life shit, but real-life nonetheless.” Eddie huffs and leans back against his seat, his hair swishing with the movement.

“You’re all dinguses,” Robin states.

“Ok, ok, but back to the matter at hand. Steve Harrington’s flirting technique. I need to hear all about it.” Eddie winks at Steve.

“No, nope, no, you don’t.” Steve motions his hands in front of himself, shaking his head profusely.

“He thinks all of his power is in his hair.”

Eddie leans back slightly and looks at Steve, inspecting the hair, as mentioned earlier. “It is great hair.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and he can feel his neck get hot. He runs his fingers through his hair to pretend he isn’t flattered.

“Gag,” Robin puts her finger to her mouth.

“Looks like it grips well.” Eddie flicks the back of Steve’s hair.

“Stop, nope. We’re not, nuh uh. We’re done talking about me and my hair. I’ve got to head home anyway. Let’s get the kids and get out of here.”

Eddie watches Steve, noticing the shade of red across his cheeks, and smiles. “Ok then, you’re in charge.” Eddie pushes himself up to his feet and claps his hands once. “Let’s go, Stevie boy.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says under his breath. “Ok, rugrats, let’s get out of here.” He calls out into the arcade. A spattering of annoyance is heard over the bells of the machines. “I have work tomorrow. If you want a ride home, it’s now or never.”

“Can I get a ride?” Eddie asks flirtatiously.

Steve looks at him straight-faced. “What is wrong with you?”

“So many things.” Eddie smiles wide, his cheeks exposing those Munson dimples.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddiecameraroll posts #steddie fanfic #my writing

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sophfandoms53 · 2 days

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Finished the Knuckles Show and uhhhhhhhhhh it’s certainly a show.

There’s good stuff buried in every episode especially where Knuckles is concerned. They set up a very interesting arc for him and just didn’t really explore much with it. After the first episode Knuckles is shoved to the side CONSTANTLY and is made the B plot more often than he should be as the TITULAR character.

Every criticism that said Wade takes over the show is correct.

After episode 1, Wade takes over every A plot and Knuckles is only ever in the B plot that has either minimal time focused on him or he’s just straight up not around (episode 4 is the worst offender here but it’s an issue from eps2-6). They actively write Knuckles out of the plot constantly and it’s very frustrating.

If you like Wade and enjoy his personal journey about his family then this’ll be fine. I, for one, thought it was interesting on its own but 100% it has no reason to be here in a SONIC MOVIE KNUCKLES spin off show. This is not Knuckles’ show. It’s Wade’s and that’s the biggest let down.

Knuckles IS there but that’s it, he’s just THERE.

And it sucks because Movie!Knuckles himself is very well crafted and very entertaining and engaging to watch. The show is at its strongest when it’s about Knuckles and spending time with him. Episode 1 is the only episode that it feels like what it was advertised as - the Knuckles show.

Sonic, Tails, and Maddie only show up for the first episode and never come back. Which is wild because part of the plot is Maddie has grounded Knuckles and he sneaks out but there’s never any consequences shown once he gets home nor do we see how anyone reacted once they noticed Knuckles is gone. These three are just abandoned after episode 1.

Tails has like 6 or 7 lines, my boy deserves sm better LMAOO

A big highlight, however, I LOVED Sonic in this one episode. The way you can see and FEEL how he’s grown from movie to movie and in this first episode is very well done. He’s truly becoming the Sonic I know and when he and Knuckles had their conversation on the roof where he tries to help Knuckles see the beauty in Green Hills, his home - that entire scene was PURE Sonic’s golden heart on display. He does still have his jokes that remind you Ben Schwartz is his actor and that he’s a silly kid but he IS still Sonic at his core and I loved that. It made me very sad we didn’t get to see more of him but I appreciated seeing Sonic handled this way. It makes me very eager to see how movie 3 goes about him considering everything Shadow brings to the table and how different of a threat he’s gonna be for Sonic.

Episode 2 is alright but GOOD LORD episodes 3-5 are such a waste of time. There’s good sprinkled in them in isolation but as full blown episodes, a waste. You can skip most of what’s happened and be fine.

The big climax fight in the finale just HAPPENS. The plot armor literally comes bursting through the wall and yanks Knuckles out of the plot for way too long and we only get TRUE and INCREDIBLE Movie Knuckles action (his fire fists which were insane btw) in the last 5 minutes and it only lasted like 2 of those 5 minutes.

Overall, it’s not entirely unwatchable but it’s not worth a majority of people’s time. You don’t need this for movie 3 so if you wanna skip it - I’d recommend that. If you really watch though, I’d only say watch the first episode and the finale and just google the context for what’s in between bc eps 2-5 are total slogs after a while.

If you like silly dumb fun - this is the show for you. But it’s not the show many Sonic fans may have wanted or expected.

I’m not angry or anything like many people have been. It’s not worth getting angry over. I’m moreso just disappointed because I can see a good show about Knuckles hidden in there. They just opted to give more time into Wade for whatever reason.

Just an overall let down imo.

Knuckles deserved better❤️

#i was so bored half the time ughhhh #i felt so bad but guys #it just wasnt worth it #anyways movie 3 save me save me movie 3 #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #knuckles series #sonic movie #sonic movie 2 #sonic movie 3 #sonic movie spoilers #knuckles spoilers #knuckles series spoilers

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heazueken · 8 hours

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Can I believe You? - Part 1

*ೃ༄ summary: Nanami leaves behind the Jujutsu world fresh out of high school and reader resents him fir abandoning not only you but Haibara too. warning(s): body horror, violence, graphic violence, major character death, angst...lots of angst, mdni pairing(s): nanami kento/reader wc; 4.1k a/n: got the courage to post this hear too but you can find this on my ao3 too! there is a lot of angst in this...just a warning

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“Did I ever tell you that you’re my type, Y/N?” Haibara says your name cheerfully when you set your lunch tray down on the table. A laugh escapes you, finding joy in how brash and unapologetically blunt Haibara was. It was one of the many things you had admired about him.

“And why is that, Haibara?” Geto, Gojo, and Shoko side eyed you two, their ears perking to listen in on the conversation. A blush washes over you, the attention being all on you now and you nervously poke and prod at the food in front of you. Nanami pays no mind, Shoko had decided that he better spend his time massaging her shoulder than listen to you and Haibara blabber on.

“Because, you eat well, you’re strong and you’re super pretty!” You laugh, so innocent, so plain. Haibara felt like such a normal person that he seemed to stick out like a sore thumb as a classmate learning jujutsu. You admired him for his stubbornness to prove people wrong and always study hard, put his own life before your own.

“Well then, if I’m your type, how come you haven’t asked me out on a date?” He smiles and lets you eat a little more before he answers, folding his arms over the cafeteria table.

“I don’t ask out girls who aren’t interested in me back.”

“How do you know I’m not interested in you?”

You watch his eyes flicker to the side at Nanami, then back at you. A silent discussion between the two of you occurs and your cheeks flush in realization. You curse at Haibara has he immediately falls into a fit of giggles, you throw your rice at him, Gojo hears the commotion and helps you empty your plate on him while Shoko laughs, Geto sits there quietly watching and Nanami is scolding the two of you to stop.

“Geto hasn’t been looking so good,” Haibara mentions to you and Nanami. He’s sitting on the stairs in the school hallway and lays his head in his head, sighing.

“I tried to cheer him up, I’m not sure it worked, though.”

You put a comforting hand on Haibara’s arm, rubbing your thumb over his uniform.

“You tried. That’s the best anyone can do. I’m sure you helped a little.” Haibara gave you a weak, genuine smile and you knew you gave him a little comfort in that moment.

You heard about what happened from Nanami. The mission going terribly wrong, the Star Plasma Vessel - who you learned to be a girl Rika - dead. Assassinated by a man who had threatened their lives, left the both of them on the verge of death, thankfully Gojo was able to use his reverse cursed technique. Geto was left with the sight of watching Rika die right in front of him, pool of blood forming beneath the girl after Geto had offered to take her back home, offered to let her live the life she had deserved. Of course the trauma of that would send anyone into a spiral, you knew of that, and yet, it seemed like no one else could understand why he had been in such a funk. You remember Gojo taking you aside to talk about it, mentioning that he had asked him if anything was wrong, that he looked thin and wasn’t eating.

“And he…it’s like he forced himself to look at me and I could see that fake smile when he told me he was fine. That it’s the fatigue the heat brings him,” He shrugs his shoulders passively.

“Why didn’t you push him to tell you more?” You demand, trying to meet eyes with Gojo but with the sunglasses it was impossible. You couldn’t see the look in them but you saw his eyebrows slowly come together, creasing the skin.

“Because, I want to believe that he’s actually okay. I want to believe that he’s telling me the truth.”

You and Gojo both know he wasn’t.

“Satoru, he told you what had happened. How could anyone walk away from that without having felt some guilt?”

Gojo didn’t look at you, ashamed, he knew you were telling the truth but he had refused to see it.

“Because we’re the strongest.” He said simply. You couldn’t argue with him.

You saw Geto when you were heading back to your room. He looked sluggish, his feet dragged behind him and his head hung low.

“Suguru,” you said quietly, softly stepping towards him. He raised his head then and you saw what Gojo had described. His lips curled into a smile that did not look like the one you knew so well. This was not the Geto you had befriended so early in the school year. This was someone playing a part, someone who was hiding something, hiding a deep pain that he was keeping from the rest of his classmates. His eyes looked glassy, like he wasn’t even looking at you truly.

“Y/N,” he responds gently. “What’s up?”

Words fell silent against your tongue and you couldn’t seem to form what you wanted to say.

“I….what happened?”

He shrugged. There was a long silence between the both of you.

“One moment I'm standing there with her and the next she’s a bloody heap at my feet.”

The smile still remained on his face and your blood ran cold. The mission had failed. You already knew that but it had explained why you had heard about the Start Religious Group celebrating the death of the vessel. You could not come up with anything to say, you stared at Geto and your hands raised to cover your mouth in shock.

“Suguru-“

“I’ll be fine, Y/N,” he began walking again, the sound of his feet dragging on the floorboards was the only thing that could be heard down the long hallway. You watched him until he disappeared into his dorm before you could finally find the words. Not that they would have given him any comfort anyway.

I’m sorry.

You hadn’t want to use your technique, not when you knew it would harm Haibara and Nanami. But when you saw the curse thrash Nanami into a building did you feel the smoke ooze out of your palms in a desperation that hindered you still. Your eyes widened and your fist clamped around the naginata staff, your eyes caught where Nanami’s body slumped, his weapon laid next to him as you saw blood trickle from his mouth. A rage increased inside you and you readied your weapon, feeling the poisonous vapor enshroud the weapon before you. You had to use it now.

Before you could leap and attack you saw Haibara. Only a flash of him when he ran to Nanami’s side. He lifted him, shaking him and though you couldn’t hear, you could see him frantically yelling for him to wake up. Haibara had one eye shut, blood pooled from his head and over it, his hands were covered in his own blood and you watched him smear it across Nanami’s face as he desperately shook him to consciousness.

The curse roared, its tentacles reached and flashed across the area towards you, but you were quicker. Your blade sliced the tentacle off and the smoke secreting from the weapon soaked itself into the skin of the curse and it quickly began to bubble. The skin grew blisters, they turned plump and pink and the curse took a moment to stare at its large stump before screeching in pain when the blisters burst, puss oozed and more vapor poured out of them. The monster began thrashing, the remaining tentacles swung and destroyed the buildings around it. It screamed obscenities and you rushed forward, slicing another limb off. Your feet were quick, running along another one, letting your blade glide across its green skin and let more spores awake in its path. You glance just for a second to see Nanami finally getting up, pushing Haibara away in an attempt to run and help you fight. You kept the curse further away because your technique was considered a curse, even if humans came into contact with it it would cover their bodies in horrible blisters and eat away at you from the inside. You had learned to channel it through your weapons to make the smoke more precise and less dangerous. But you had to release a puff of the poisonous smoke from your hand to keep the away from your friends.

Nanami screams your name, this monster wasn’t a grade 2 like they thought.

It grabbed you with one of its untouched tentacles, throwing you down to the ground. Your weapon falls from your grasp and before you can register what had happened you hear a sound of bones breaking, skin squelching and what sounded like someone releasing a pail of water across the floor. It was blood.

Haibara stands in front of you. You look up at him, his back to you and you see it. The curse had stabbed right through his body, the limb poking out of his back. Your mouth opens into a silent scream and you can only watch as he vomits blood and more blood and more until his body immediately goes limp.

You don’t remember much. The world seemed to be spinning. You were pulled aside by someone, people in suits and sorcerers more powerful than you finally arrived and you watched them massacre the curse. Your eyes trail to where Haibara had been left lying there, forgotten in the heat of the fight. A flame ignited in you and you fought against the strong arms of what you assumed was another sorcerer holding you back.

“Let me go, let me go!” You screamed. “Haibara! We have to-“

“We can’t! Not yet!” The sorcerer responded, grip becoming tighter on you.

“Get the fuck off me!” Your voice strained. “We have to save him! Let me fucking go!” You thrashed, kicking dirt up with your feet in an effort to get to Haibara. You felt defeated when you couldn’t even wiggle one arm from the person's grasp.

You saw people with medical masks and long white coats run to his body, placing him on a stretcher and frantically talking to one another as they ran to the vehicle waiting for them. You see Shoko, scrambling outside the car, her face also covered with a mask. She turns to you, catching your gaze and you hold onto it, your eyes begging for some answer.

Will he be okay?

She shook her head.

You don’t remember how or when you had calmed down but the next moment you were in a car with Nanami beside you. You look over to him and he was staring blankly, blood, Haibara’s blood now dried on his face. He wouldn’t look at you - couldn't look at you.

Everything felt numb.

“That was a first grade case.” The severity of the situation hit you like a damn train in that moment. Your vision became blurry and uneven, your hands grappled to the handlebars of where he lay and the tears dripped onto the shroud. There were dark tear stains riddled across the blue of the fabric and the moment Geto finally, finally pulled it over to cover Haibara’s pale, bloodied face did you crouch and sob with all your might. The tears streamed down your face, falling to your knees and letting your hair trap around your face like blinders, your ears thumped with blood rushing loudly. A sinking feeling fell inside your stomach as you struggled to breathe but more sobs broke out instead. Your stomach began to turn, the world becoming quiet and muffled around you and you didn’t notice Nanami crouching next to you, not until you felt his hand on your shoulder.

Don’t comfort me. What’s done is done. Your comfort can’t bring him back. Don’t comfort me. I don’t deserve it.

The tears dried your throat and you began to retch, they were empty gags but the tears refused to stop even when your body begged for them to. You couldn’t shy away from Nanami’s touch and the way his palm tried to soothe over your back. Your crying didn’t subside until you had passed out.

Haibara was dead and it was your fault.

“Y/N,” Nanami said softly. “It’s okay.” He’s crying too but you don’t see it, can’t hear him when you’re unconscious on the floor.

Everything is black. You’re in a void and all you can see is Haibara's broken, bloodied body on the ground. Several of them littered around your feet, you look around and it’s endless, the bodies, the blood soaking into his uniform and pooling around your feet. Your stomach churns at the sight before you, watching the blood go up and up, rising over the toes of your shoes. You try to scream, but no sound comes out. All you can smell is blood and all you can see his Haibara. Tears stream down your face.

I’m sorry! I’m sorry!

You feel a set of hands on your shoulders, gripping you. You blink your eyes open and the bodies are gone. Except one. Haibara’s standing in front of you, grasping you so tight you think he’ll shatter the bones in your shoulders.

“Y/N,” he doesn’t look right. His face is contorted, blood is pooling out of his mouth and onto the ground. His eye is an empty socket with a cascade of blood running down the expanse of his cheek.

“Why didn’t you save me?” He asks with an eerie frown. You gasp and find your voice.

“They wouldn’t let me get to you! I tried to-“

“You weren’t strong enough. I died because you failed.” He would never say these things. Never. And yet it felt like that truth. Still, you shook your head.

“I did my best! It was a grade 1 curse! I tried to save you! I tried to save Nanami! You-“

“You failed,” He said, every word he spoke blood only poured out, staining his teeth red. “You weren’t strong enough.”

Haibara was dead and it was because you weren’t strong enough to save him.

You awoke in your bed with a gasp, sitting up immediately. Tears stained your cheeks already when the memories came flooding back to you.

“Y/N!” It was Nanami. He had been sitting down beside your bed, you guessed he had fallen asleep judging by the small rim of red around his eyes. Or maybe he had been crying just as much as you have. He reached for you, his hand grabbing yours and the other one going around your shoulder to support you. The room began to spin and little black stars riddled around your field of vision as your head thumped like a drum.

“Careful, you sprained a few ribs.” He gently said. You looked at Nanami, his face has a look of concern, your heart warmed at the realization that he had stuck by next to you for however long you were unconscious.

“H-how long was I out?”

Nanami pulled away, letting you lean back against your beds headboard.

“Couple of hours at least. You were talking in your sleep.”

The dream came flooding back to you and you held Nanami’s gaze for a beat, wondering what to say. What had you said?

“I’m sorry…” You leaned back, the ache of your bruised body finally making itself known. “What…what do we do now?” Your hand rubs gently over the bruises riddled over your ribs.

Nanami sat with the question for a bit. Sitting back in the chair beside you and rubbing his fingertips across the wrapped cloth on his arm, blood starting to creep its way to the surface. He’ll have to change his bandages soon.

“We recover and go back to work.”

Your stomach sank, something felt different. The vessel incident, now Haibara…everything seemed to be too much. Like their entire world was crashing down with them.

You’re weak. That’s why. More people are going to die because of your lack of skill. Blood is on your hands because you weren’t strong enough to protect Haibara.

“Hey,” Nanami said, putting his good hand on your shoulder. You blinked at him, taken out of your egregious stupor. Your eyes met with his brown ones and your heart beat a little faster.

“It’ll be…alright. I think. As long as we have each other, right?”

You always had Nanami and Haibara at your side. Now with him gone your only option was to support Nanami and he support you. You two needed each other now. It was the right thing to do. You nod.

You would become stronger for Haibara.

It got easier, as time went on. Nanami had stayed by your side and you stayed by his as the two of you recovered. 2 months flew by and you two were sitting in your dorm together, still bandaged up but you both were able to eat more. You looked down at your rice, sifting your chopsticks through it.

“I miss him.” You say. Nanami doesn’t need to ask who you’re speaking about and he pushes his hair to the side to get a good look at you.

“Me too.” He reaches over, he smiles, it’s sad and it carries a silent apology with it. He squeezes your wrist in comfort.

“He wouldn’t want us to be sad. He’d want you well fed and healed. Now eat.” You brought the rice to your mouth, eyes still skimming across Nanami’s face as he elegantly finished his food. You noticed he’d grown more, was starting to look more like a man. In just 2 months his jaw had seemed more sharp, his shoulders bigger, hands larger and warm when they touched your healing skin. His hair had also grown…longer.

“When are you going to cut that hair off, hm?”

He turned to you. “What? Is it an eyesore?”

You wrinkle your nose, “Yes, and it’s lame. You look like - what do they call it? A scene kid.” He rolls his eyes as you giggle.

“Finish your damn food already.”

You always had a crush on him. Even now, when he smiled at you - which you rarely saw him do - did the butterflies release inside you, a laugh released from you and there was a sharp pain in your side - sending you into a coughing fit, you groaned because damn, those bruised ribs fucking hurt. Nanami patted your back, trying to comfort you but it only caused more pain to ache throughout your body. You shove him away, a fit of giggles and coughing and groaning filling the room and you think for a moment how much you had admired Nanami for sticking by you throughout all of this. He had suffered a great loss, too.

Nanami Kento was the strongest man you had known.

Nanami Kento was a coward.

You hadn’t suspected a thing. Although, he had been starting to keep to himself a lot more as the years passed. It wasn’t particularly out of character for him so of course you were ignorant to the plans he had been setting up ever since Haibara died. Freshly graduated, pride still riddled across your face as you strutted through the halls, chest pumped up and high on the fact that you were Number 1 on the honor roll list. You wanted to share the happiness with your best friend, perhaps get some drinks with him. The thought of it makes your face go hot. You open the shoji door to one of the classrooms that Nanami frequented with you, a smile big and bright on your face.

“Nanami, I-“

Nanami was not there. In his place was Gojo Satoru, leaning against one of the student desks. He adorned his iconic sunglasses, laying further down on the bridge of his nose so you could see a glimpse of his pure sapphire blue eyes. Your smile quickly fades and your shoulders lower. A stone sinks inside your stomach.

“Gojo, what-“

“He left.”

You immediately ask, “Who?” The air became suffocating when Gojo pushed himself off the desk and walked closer to you. His footsteps echo across the room and he looks at you with an empathetic look and you know his answer. It feels as though a curse has wrapped its spindly fingers around your throat when Gojo finally answers.

“Nanami. He left this morning. Told Yaga that he was leaving jujutsu high.”

No. No, that’s not right. That can’t be right. The feeling on your throat felt tighter, pins and needles pinched the inside of your esophagus and your eyes began to burn, tears threatening to resurface. What used to be such a drafty, cold room began hot, too hot. There was no storm and yet you heard thunder and lightning, it felt like the walls around you were crumbling down. A tear threatened at your waterline and you blinked, letting it fall down your cheek. Your stomach squeezed and it made you stumble slightly.

“Y/N-,” Gojo grabbed your shoulders, supporting you against his side.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” You couldn’t focus on the sound of his voice, only mumbling to him so he’d know you at least still acknowledged he was there. He had an arm around your shoulder and grabbed onto your wrist with his other hand, holding you steady to guide you to one of the desks. You slumped onto the seat, your mind running through all the things Nanami had said to you. Promising that he’d stay by your side. That you would stay by his. Your throat began to burn again. Your hand tightened into a fist.

No, you could not. Not in front of Gojo. Not even in front of yourself could you cry anymore. It didn’t do anything - only caused a headache, made you feel sick to your stomach, had you on the floor heaving and gasping, hoping for it to end. It only showed the weakness you had shown when you had seen Haibara dead beneath the shroud. Gaining control of your emotions, releasing them through weapons, training your body until you were throwing up and your muscles ached was the only way you knew how to express the feelings that you held close to yourself. You had to get ahold of yourself. You slammed your fist on the desk in front of you and Gojo cocked his head in curiosity.

“Where did he go?” You finally ask, hiding your face in the palm of your hand. Gojo was silent for a moment, you glanced at him. He had pushed his glasses all the way up the bridge of his nose so you could not meet his eyes. You could tell by the way he shuffled on his feet and his hands slid into his pockets that he was almost anxious to answer you.

“He, uh, went into business, I guess? Salaryman.”

A salaryman. Pathetic. Rather than protect people from curses and carry on Haibara’s legacy he decided to leave that behind to pursue a life of money and long hours in a stuffy cubicle. Standing around with other men in suits who only spoke of politics and how much wealth they had. He’d rather dedicate his life to a big company. Just like that, he ran off like a fucking coward. The sadness that had settled inside you boiled into a fiery anger, your hands clenching and immediately getting up. The chairs legs scrapped across the floor in a loud and screeching sound and you pushed it back into place with a force that was so great you were almost worried you’d break the wood beneath your grip.

“Y/N, I’m sorry about him. I tried to tell him that you would appreciate to be told but he didn’t want to.”

“Didn’t want to?” Your anger burned your skin, “He didn’t want to tell me that he was abandoning the school, abandoning the people out in the world that need saving.” You took a deep breath, “Abandoning me?” Abandoning Haibara.

He was running away like a coward. Hatred seeped into your anger and spread like the disease ridden smoke that oozed from your weapons. Gojo didn’t say a word because there was nothing else to say, so of course he stood there with his mouth a straight line, shoulders still and hands at his side now.

“Goodbye, Satoru. Thank you for telling me.” You couldn’t direct your anger at Gojo, he didn’t deserve it. You needed the training room, you needed to feel the weight of your weapon under your grasp and the blisters that awakened from the strain of the wood staff, to feel sweat trickle down your forehead and the satisfying ache of your muscles.

Nanami had been the strongest, sweetest man you had known and he had turned into a coward. Perhaps you and Haibara never mattered to him. You hoped to never see him again for the heartbreak would be too great.

#jjk #pepper writes #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jujustu kaisen #nanami x reader #nanami fanfic #i hope you guys like this ooffffff

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