#jealousy rears its ugly head as i get friend jealous for no reason | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaos-thirium · 2 years

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👉👈 could I request 26. "I want to fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it" and 36. "You're mine" with Sixty?

Here you go @viraselena Hope you enjoy!

Sixty x AFAB reader. Rated M.

It surprised everyone when Sixty became part of Markus’s inner circle, working ceaselessly for the rights of his people. Nobody questioned that Connor was there. He’d been a key figure in ending the revolution, after all. What everyone seemed to forget was that Sixty had too, in a way. Granted, he’d been on the wrong side, but he’d still been present when everything went down.

Getting shot in the head was a dramatic way to deviate, but that was Sixty all over. By the time Connor and Hank realised that Sixty was still alive, it was too late for him to complete his mission and stop the androids from leaving the CyberLife Tower. Fortunately, they quickly spotted that he’d deviated, and Hank had taken him to get repaired while Connor led the androids to Markus.

It had taken some time for trust to build between the RK800s, but Connor was very forgiving, and Sixty soon accepted him as a friend. It took longer for him to form ties with Hank, having ‘awoken’ with an understandable case of PTSD where the lieutenant was concerned, (something that Hank didn’t take personally), but they were making steps.

Sixty didn’t slot seamlessly into Markus’s group. He was awake, alive, but still what most people described as kind of an asshole. He had good intentions and the drive to see them through, but he wasn’t nice about it. Still, Markus appreciated what he brought to the table, and Sixty found acceptance in the group, if not a whole lot of friendship.

In the months following the revolution, the androids took the CyberLife Tower for themselves. Not only did they need a base of operations for everything they wanted to accomplish, choosing that particular building sent a stark message. What had been a symbol of corporate manufacturing of products became a safe haven for the people who had once been viewed as those products. From his new office at the top of the tower, Markus arranged meetings with human politicians, set up plans for fair wages, housing, healthcare, sent out agents to find and rescue any androids kept captive by their former owners, and generally became the kind of leader that humans could only dream of having as their representative.

It wasn’t without its troubles and challenges, of course, but overall, the fight for android rights was going well. Markus chose to work with several humans too, to show how he wanted the future to be; humans and androids living and working alongside each other. That was how Sixty had first met you.

You volunteered at the tower, now Jericho Tower, on your days off, helping out where you could and offering advice. You had a background in financial planning, and so you’d been helping Markus with his funding, budgeting, and the ongoing debate about wages. The two of you weren’t exactly close, but you were friends, and later you learned that that had sparked some jealousy in Sixty. It quickly blew over when Markus acted as wingman in getting the two of you together.

Knowing about Sixty’s jealous streak had initially put you off, but you agreed to one date. To your surprise, you found him witty and charming, and he’d made you laugh. That had prompted you to agree to a second date, and things progressed from there. Eventually, you realised that his jealousy emanated from a place of deep insecurity, and while that didn’t make it okay, it did make it understandable. You worked on it together, which turned out to be a positive experience for you both, and soon you’d almost forgotten that it had ever been there at all.

Almost.

The reason it reared its ugly head again was Connor, and the fact that you met and liked him. Not in the same way you liked Sixty, but you were friendly to him. You knew how much of Sixty’s insecurity stemmed from the fact that he was, to all intents and purposes, a replacement for Connor, once sharing the same name and memories as the other RK800. It had been a struggle for him to find his own identity, not helped by the fact that people inevitably compared them. Aware of that, you made sure that your growing friendship with Connor ran alongside many conversations with Sixty, where you talked openly about what was happening. You’d hoped by doing so that Sixty wouldn’t feel jealous or concerned, and for a while it seemed to work. He appreciated your efforts, and you knew that he was certain you loved him. But emotions were complicated, and logic often had no place in raw reactions.

The Jericho Tower wasn’t just a workplace, but a home for many androids, Sixty and Connor included. Offices were converted into living spaces that suited an android’s needs, allowing them private space to relax and discover hobbies. Those that had human friends and loved ones included facilities for them too. It had become a very inclusive place, but it was a vast one. That was how you’d gone so long without you or Connor crossing paths.

Considering it hadn’t been built as one, the tower made a surprisingly good community living area. The main atrium, which had once housed an obnoxiously big statue, was an airy, open space that dominated almost the entirety of the building’s centre. The offices ran around the outside, large windows allowing workers to see out into the main space. It meant that once the offices were converted into homes, people gathered on the balcony-like walkways to make their way to work or out, allowing time for friendly chats and greetings. It was a happy accident that was only discovered after people started moving in.

Sixty had an apartment that you spent quite a bit of time in, so much so that some of your stuff had migrated. It was rare that he came to yours, since staying at the tower was often convenient for both of you, except on days when you went to your actual job. You’d grown to quite enjoy staying there, particularly as your circle of android friends grew.

Connor was a latecomer to the Jericho Tower community, as he’d stayed with Hank for a while to help the man kick his alcohol addiction. Hank was well on his way to beating it, so Connor had sought his own space. As fortune would have it, he ended up in an apartment on the same floor as Sixty, but on the opposite side, so they weren’t exactly neighbours. It didn’t take long to circle round to Connor’s side of the building, though, so you knew he was there if you and Sixty needed anything.

Things were good. You’d found a balance with your budding friendship with Connor that worked for Sixty, and you were enjoying meeting new people. You knew Sixty didn’t exactly like that you were friends with his double, but he never dictated who you should or shouldn’t interact with. At his core, he trusted you, even if doubt and insecurity reared up to torment him sometimes. That was why you stayed. You could never love someone who tried to control you.

The problem came one ordinary night. At least, you’d thought it was an ordinary night. An argument broke out, with Sixty claiming that Connor had developed a crush on you, and you insisting that he was mistaken. It was a heated argument, but ultimately short, because Sixty had apparently discovered it accidentally when he and Connor had needed to interface to transfer some data. It was difficult to argue against that, and so you had to back down.

An uneasy silence fell, and you hoped your immediate neighbours hadn’t heard you yelling. It was late, and a large portion of the tower was in darkness. You stood catching your breath, rewiring your thoughts as you had to abandon your argument. You’d been so sure you were right, thinking that Sixty was just being paranoid. Connor hadn’t hinted at anything, nor had he been inappropriate or even remotely flirty with you. With the insight from the interface, you now realised that not acting on it was Connor’s way of showing respect to the relationship between you and Sixty, but did Sixty see it that way?

“Did…did you say anything to him?” you asked.

“I didn’t have to, we were interfacing,” Sixty snapped.

You nodded, wincing. Right. You should have figured that out yourself.

“I don’t think he means anything by it, Six,” you soothed. “I already told you, I had no idea, and I think he would have kept it that way. He knows we’re happy together.”

From the expression on his face, he did know, it was just his insecurities rising up to bite him once again. Under that, frustration that he was allowing them to. He perched heavily on the back of the couch, letting out a sigh.

You stepped closer, bringing your hand up to his shoulder, just a light, tentative touch to let him know you were there.

“I’m with you,” you reminded him softly. “I love you.”

“I know,” he muttered. The words sounded thick, as if his jaw was tensed. An interesting reaction from an android.

“I know you know,” you countered with infinite patience, “but I’m going to keep telling you, if that’s okay with you.”

The faintest hint of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll allow it,” he quipped, and you smiled.

You moved around in front of him, standing between his legs, and cupped his face in your hands.

“I’m yours,” you said firmly.

His dark eyes held a spark of fire as he looked at you, but then he shook his head slightly.

“Don’t…don’t talk about ownership like that,” he began.

You cut him off. “I’m not. I know you don’t own me, I didn’t mean it like that.”

A lot of androids recoiled from possessive language, which was understandable considering how things had been before the revolution, but there were also those who liked to use it themselves. You suspected that Sixty was one of them, for all that he forced himself to say the ‘right’ things.

“I’m yours,” you repeated, your thumbs gently caressing his cheeks, “as you’re mine. Okay?”

He nodded.

“Say it.”

His eyebrows rose slightly. You rarely got bossy with him, but sometimes he needed it.

“You’re mine,” he said flatly.

You rolled your eyes. “Like you mean it.”

That spark of fire returned to his eyes, and his hands came up to circle your waist.

“You’re mine,” he said again, voice catching on the hint of a growl.

“Good. And regardless of whoever else might happen to admire one of us, that will always be true. Got it? What they feel is their problem, not ours.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look wholly convinced. You suspected because in this case, it was Connor. Connor who was so similar, yet treated so differently. Connor was the OG, the likeable one, the hero. Sixty was his inferior copy, defective, snarky, bitter.

You, of course, had never seen Sixty that way, but you knew it was how he thought of himself, and how he assumed others thought of him. In his mind, you being with Connor instead of him made perfect narrative sense.

“What do you want?” you asked him.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. “What do you mean?”

“Right now, if you could do anything, what would you do? What do you want?”

He hesitated, and you could practically see the cogs turning, his LED spinning yellow.

“Honest answers only,” you added. And then, when he hesitated again, you spoke up quietly, “Nothing you say will scare me off. Okay?”

Judging by his expression, you’d hit the nail on the head. A little thrill ran through you at the thought of what he might be thinking. Convincing him that you weren’t going to be shocked by his desires – both innocent and not-so-innocent – was a work in progress, but you were stubbornly persistent.

“I’d tell Connor to back the fuck off,” he said fiercely. “He already gets everything he wants, he doesn’t get to have you too.”

You nodded, letting him get his frustrations out. He and Connor were friends in the ways it counted, but you knew there’d always be that underlying rivalry. At least, until Sixty healed enough to move past it.

“I want to show the world that you’re mine,” he went on.

You started to smile, but his sudden movement caught you off guard. You weren’t sure how it happened but in seconds he was on his feet, and you were across the room, gasping as your cheek met cold glass. He crowded you against the window, and his voice was a low rasp in your ear.

"I want to fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it."

Your underwear was drenched in an instant, even as your practical mind shot into overdrive. You eyed the darkness in most of the tower, just a few lights on in a few apartments on a few floors. Most had their blinds drawn. Any android children were in bed by now. If you kept your own lights off, then maybe you’d feel a little less exposed, but still…if anyone chanced a look out of their interior windows… You squirmed, a needy pulse making itself known between your legs.

Fuck, were you really into this?

Sixty’s words echoed in your head, and you looked directly across at Connor’s apartment, also dark but the blinds were up. Was he out? You hoped so. You had a feeling that the ‘everyone’ Sixty had spoken of was actually a little more specific.

Your breath fogged the glass as you tried to find the right words, your desire to agree warring with your concerns about being seen.

“What if we’re caught?” you asked, practicality winning. For now. “Will you be evicted?”

“Not if it’s a one-time thing,” he replied smoothly. “I’ll plead a lapse in judgement. Markus is all about second chances. Maybe I’ll have to make some humbling apologies, but it would be worth it.”

“I don’t know, Six…”

His hand slid down your stomach, under the waistband of your sweatpants and underwear, and he chuckled lowly as his fingers glided through your slick.

“You don’t know?” he challenged you. “This feels pretty knowing, sweetheart. This feels like the reaction of someone who wants to be fucked against this window. Moan if you agree.”

His fingers traced patterns on your clit, and you whimpered.

“That’s what I thought.”

You felt yourself yield, partly because you were suddenly burning with need, partly because you were relishing seeing him confident again.

“Okay,” you relented, “but we keep the lights off.”

The lights dimmed at once, which you took to be Sixty’s agreement. It made you feel a little better, although you knew it was in your head. Androids had better eyesight than humans, and you knew there were some models, Sixty included, who had night vision. That meant that Connor also did. So if he actually was in his apartment, and still awake, there was a chance…

You put that thought out of your head. Maybe Sixty needed him to see, but you didn’t think that kind of territory-marking was necessary. Connor hadn’t made a move on you, and likely didn’t intend to, so it felt like an overreaction, but you guessed that was Sixty. He was dramatic. Normally, you found that part of him amusing and endearing.

Sixty stepped back from you, allowing you to turn and gauge his expression. You only caught a glimpse of it before his lips crashed into yours. His tongue delved into your mouth, and you kissed him back eagerly. Despite your misgivings, you wanted him badly. Deep down, you liked the idea of him claiming you. He might not see his worth, but you were so proud to be with him, you didn’t mind being shown off now and then. Granted, you hadn’t pictured this, but…when you considered what Sixty was like, it seemed ridiculous that you hadn’t pictured it.

“Tell me,” he murmured against your lips. “Tell me you want this.”

Your heart warmed at the little show of consideration.

“I want it.”

He kissed you again before stepping back to rid you of your clothes. You did the same, your hands trembling. There were dim green-tinted emergency lights out on the walkways, and they bathed his flawless pale skin in faint, interesting shades.

“Turn around for me.”

You swallowed, but did as he asked, turning to face out into the atrium. He crowded your back again, urging you to move forward, and you gasped as your sensitive nipples met the cold glass. The contrast with the chill at your front and his warmth at your back was delicious, and you reached up a hand to cup the back of his neck.

He ran his hands down your sides, then over the curve of your ass before sliding two fingers inside you.

“You’re so wet,” he said over your shoulder.

You wondered if that was for the benefit of any audience you might have, or whether he liked the way you reacted to the proximity of his words.

“All for you,” you murmured.

He kissed your cheek in acknowledgement, then added another finger, making you moan. The two of you had a pretty active sex life, so you rarely needed any additional stretching. Mostly he liked to use his fingers first to rile you up. You’d learned early on that he enjoyed seeing you desperate for him. It gave his ego a boost. Since the sight of him confident and enthralled turned you on, it was an ongoing cycle of foreplay for you both.

“Please, Six.”

“What do you want, pet?”

“You! I need…I need you inside me.”

He curled his fingers teasingly along your inner walls.

“I am inside you,” he said silkily.

“You know what I mean, asshole,” you chided with very little venom.

He chuckled, but withdrew his hand, bringing his slick fingers up to his mouth. He could never resist the taste of you.

He kept you waiting, your cheek against the glass that was growing warm and smeared under your skin, but finally you felt his tip brush tantalisingly through your folds. You heard him let out a quiet noise. He always commented on how warm you were, how he liked to savour it before burying himself in you. He’d learned he didn’t need to be quite so talkative, but you always knew what was going through his head.

He slid home with one easy thrust, the angle perfect first time. He knew every inch of you intimately, better than any previous partner ever had. You moaned, fogging the window briefly when you let out a heavy exhale. He always filled you perfectly, as if the team that built him had tapped directly into your desires when they’d crafted him.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, hands gripping your hips as he took a moment to collect himself.

You hadn’t expected him to be ready so quickly. Like a human, he usually needed time – albeit not much – to become fully erect, but he was already rock-hard inside you. You suspected it was his true reaction to hearing you proclaim yourself as his.

He lingered, nestled deep, his artificial breaths ghosting across the back of your neck. In your peripheral vision, his LED was blue and tranquil, which meant only one thing: he was tormenting you.

“Sixty!” you whined, trying to move your hips. You needed friction before you exploded.

“Mm?” he replied, sounding distracted. You had a feeling it was just for show, to wind you up further.

You made an attempt at getting some movement, but he pressed you further against the glass, making you hiss at the chill. With your head sideways, you had no idea if anyone was watching. Your cheeks burned with mortification at the thought, but you were wetter than you’d ever been, which was making you question things you thought you knew about yourself.

“Behave,” he growled.

A little shiver ran through you, and you heard him chuckle.

“Hands up, sweetheart.”

You obeyed, resting your hands on the window above your head. It limited your field of vision even further, but you didn’t mind. When things got really good, you usually had your eyes closed anyway.

Sixty covered your crossed wrists with one hand, holding you in place, and nuzzled at your neck. “Comfortable?” he asked.

“No. Fucking move!”

He laughed again, but rewarded you with a slow, deep thrust that made you groan.

“Fuck, yes, Six,” you breathed.

Spurred on by your response, he set a steady pace, hitting exactly where you needed him to, and your eyes fluttered closed in bliss.

Sixty hummed in appreciation. You knew from previous face-to-face encounters that he was endlessly fascinated by the ways your body received his, and it never failed to amaze him that he was inside you. It was cute, not that you’d ever tell him that.

“You take me so well,” he said. “Like you were made for me.”

“Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”

“Don’t get smart, sweetheart,” he chided you, although you heard the amusement in his voice.

The hand that wasn’t holding yours above your head drifted around, managing to slip between you and the window so he could play with your clit. You moaned at the additional stimulation.

“Oh fuck!”

Sixty wasn’t exactly a patient man, but he usually made an effort for you. Partly because your climax was so much better after a decent build-up, partly because he enjoyed knowing that he had total control over your pleasure. This time, however, you could feel the desperation in him, the tension in his body, the controlled yet frantic way his hips rolled into yours, and you knew it wouldn’t be drawn out. You didn’t mind. Part of you was still worried about him getting evicted from the tower, although the better he fucked you, the less you seemed to care.

The closer he got, the more erratic his thrusts were, although you could tell he was determined to take you with him over the edge. His fingers danced over your clit, and his voice was a static-filled rasp in your ear.

“You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you whispered, the tension curling, building inside you.

“Tell me.”

“I’m…” you began, only to break off as he coaxed another needy moan from you. “I’m yours.”

Both his voice and his rhythm lapsed into something desperate and wrecked. “Again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Fuck! Again!”

“I’m…yours!”

The words came out as a sob as you peaked, your body trembling against the glass, sparks flying behind your eyelids as pleasure washed through you in exquisite waves. Sixty came a mere second after you, groaning as he shuddered against your back. You felt him paint your inner walls with synthetic cum, and he placed a surprisingly sweet kiss on your cheek before letting go of your wrists.

You eased your stiff arms down, blinking as you caught your breath and moved yourself away from the window. You only had a moment to breathe before Sixty picked you up, whirled you round and deposited you on the couch.

“S…Six, what…?” you said breathlessly.

But he didn’t answer, burying his face between your legs instead.

“Ohh…fuck,” you panted, your spine arching as you threw your head back, your hands finding his hair.

You were already on the verges of overstimulation, but he was gentle as he lapped up the mess the two of you had made before lavishing attention on your clit. Doing that pushed the boundaries of how much his system could ingest, but he still insisted on it often. Since he had a wicked tongue and knew exactly how to use it, you never objected. It wasn’t even the first time he’d done it on the couch, but usually the blinds were drawn.

Your gaze fell on the darkness of the tower’s interior, specifically the darkness of Connor’s apartment. Good, he was still out or in rest mode. Although…

You squinted through the haze of pleasure, picking out a pinprick of red light across the building. Was that…an LED? No. It was probably a light on one of his appliances. The coffee maker he kept for Hank, perhaps. There was no way that Connor was home and lurking in the dark just to watch you get fucked by your boyfriend. If he truly did like you, that would be torture.

Sixty chose that moment to suck gently-but-firmly on your clit, which pushed every other thought out of your head in an instant. You keened, swearing, and your grip on his hair tightened as you writhed your way through a second orgasm.

You tugged at him when it all got too much, and he lifted his head, grinning. Seeing the confident, cocky Sixty again made you want to congratulate yourself for turning his insecurities around, even if it had happened in unexpected ways. You sat up, drawing his mouth to yours in a fierce kiss.

“You are something else, you know that?” you told him.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitating. “But mostly I’m yours.”

You smiled, the mixture of emotions and post-coital endorphins making you a little misty-eyed.

“I’m not cleaning that window,” he added, lightening the mood. “It’s a beautiful reminder.”

You glanced over at the faint smears your body had left, a clear impression of your nipples and hands leaving no doubt as to what had occurred there.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

His grin turned feral. “What’s it worth?”

#my fics #sixty #sixty x reader

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spookiekewchie · 3 years

Text

Show and Tell

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: Jake Jensen x woc!reader

Summary: The one where Jake gets jealous so you have to take him to the side and remind him of a few things.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: there’s barely any plot, there’s some dirty talk, thigh riding, public sex (well it’s just thigh riding but it counts), a hint of breeding talk

A/N: I decided to hop on @stargazingfangirl18 & @navybrat817‘s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge. Hope yall don’t mind jumping on this challenge. Anyways hope yall enjoy my first attempt at a Jake Jensen fic. Moodboard made by me, and the divider is by @firefly-graphics

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.

Character: Jake Jensen Quote: "I didn't like the way he was looking at you." Kink: Clothed/Thigh riding

You were going to scream.

No you were going to strangle him, and then you were going to scream.

Okay so maybe you weren’t going to strangle him, but the thought had been there.

Jake Jensen was a mess, a beautiful, ridiculous mess. He was also a jealous mess, and you were instantly regretting inviting him to come out with you and your friends. The night had started out fine, and then somehow, someway Jake had found a reason to act like a jealous idiot. You ignored it at first, choosing to go to the dancefloor with a few of your girls to enjoy the buzz that came with the couple of drinks you’d already had. You could only enjoy yourself for so long though, because soon a commotion was heard coming from the bar and looking over you could only sigh.

There was your beautiful mess of a boyfriend in a shoving match with some idiot that you could only assume was drunk. You rushed over, hoping to break it up before your man actually hurt the idiot. Jake might not have looked it at first glance to some, but the man was highly trained, and dangerous. “Seriously, what the fuck?” Your hands were up, shoving your in between the men so that you could push Jake back.

"I didn't like the way he was looking at you." He ground out, making like he was going to lunge at the man again only for you to give Jake’s chest a hard shove.

“That’s enough, let’s go before you get us kicked out.” You snapped, dragging him away from the scene by his hand. You didn’t know where you were going, stomping away with Jake in tow as he grumbled under his breath unintelligibly. Whatever he was saying was being drowned out by the loud music and pumping bass that filled the club. Honestly you shouldn't have been surprised, you knew Jake well enough to know that under the sunny, happy go lucky personality there were insecurities. One of those being his worry that one day you might figure out that you deserved better than him. Times when that old insecurity reared its ugly head he either withdrew into himself a bit or in cases like this he reacted out of jealousy.

You didn't care about who he thought you deserved, you only cared that you wanted him. The good and the bad, even the worry that kept you from having a good night's sleep when he had to disappear on missions. Hell you wanted him for the long haul, a house, a ring, and way down the line maybe a spawn or two. That was how much you loved the big idiot that was currently letting you drag him to an empty section so that you could shove him down onto the tacky velvet couch.

“Babe, look I—” He started, trying to lean forward.

“Shut up, Jensen.” You snapped, god you were so annoyed but at the same time the heat and frustration that had flooded your core at seeing him so jealous and protective had your panties damp. Glancing around you weighed the options and likelihood of the two of you getting caught. It was a risk but that risk just had you needing to do something about the throbbing ache between your thighs even more. Shoving him back as you tugged the tight dress you wore up against your hips before your hands were disappearing under it to pull off your panties. Jake’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click of his teeth as he looked up at you with a furrowed brow. “You are so frustrating sometimes, you just had to pick a fight huh?” It was a rhetorical question as you threw your panties against the man’s chest. “God, you’re lucky I love you.” You huffed when he did nothing but stare up at you in shock. Clearly he hadn’t expected you to react this way, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Besides, you were always the type to show better than you could tell.

Hands moving to his broad shoulders to steady yourself you straddled his thigh, letting out a little sigh at the slight relief that the pressure brought on. “I don’t want anyone else but you, you big idiot.” You whispered against his ear, hips grinding back and forth as you teasingly let a hand wrap lazily around his throat. He swallowed thickly, reaching a hand to his lap to pull at the front of his jeans. “If someone wants to stare at me shaking my ass then let them.” Hair flipping to one side, you pressed a kiss to the spot just beneath his ear and smirked at the groan that it earned you. “You know you’re the only one that gets to see what this ass looks like when it’s bouncing all over your dick.” You reminded him, causing him to shift as your words had his cock stiffening almost painfully in his jeans. Smirking you let a seductive chuckle roll past your lips as you felt his big hands gripping against your ass as he squeezed tight. “You’re the only one that gets to feel how tight my little pussy squeezes around you when your inside me. Let them fucking look that’s all they can do.”

You knew what you were doing to him, teasing him and reminding him that you were right where you wanted to me. You could have stopped there, but you were feeling bold now and the thrill of riding his thigh right there in the club where anyone could see was spurring you on. He knew all about how you wanted him physically, so you dug deeper wanting to soothe the worry you knew was still there. “You’re the only one I’m planning a future with.” It was said like an intimate little secret, and it earned you another needy groan from him as your arousal soaked into the rough fabric of his jeans. “A house, a wedding...maybe a kid if you’re lucky.” You teased, leaning back just enough to catch the flash of want and need in his lust blown pupils before he was moving a hand to the back of your neck to drag you down for a kiss as you continued to ride his thigh and chase your high.

He swallowed your moans greedily, dragging you into his chest as your hips dragged faster back and forth against his thigh. “Two kids.” He huffed out, doing his best to not pull his cock out right then and there and drag you into his lap properly so he could fill you with every thick inch. You just chuckled, the sound breaking off into a desperate moan as your felt yourself nearing the edge quickly. You could feel the coil tightening, every move of your hips against Jake’s thigh only twisting it tighter as your toes curled in the expensive heels you wore.

“Oh? Maybe if you’re really lucky then.” Your teasing earned you a sharp, stinging slap to your ass that was just what you needed. The coil snapped and you were falling over the edge with a muffled cry into his mouth as he caught your mouth in another heated kiss. Your slick flooded his thigh as you came, leaving a large dark patch against the denim that you hardly felt ashamed over. Knowing Jake he’d wear it as a badge of honor, and that was just another reason for you to love the mess of a man that was practically vibrating with lust after your little show. Pressing another kiss to his lips you sighed against his mouth, feeling less wound up as you slowly pulled yourself out of his grasp and pulled your dress down from where it had rode up.

“You’re not gonna leave me like this are you?” Jake practically whined, motioning down to the obvious bulge that was pressing against the front of his jeans. You simply shrugged, reaching down to grab your panties from where they had been laying against his chest so you could shove them into his pocket with a wicked grin.

“Don’t start any more fights tonight and maybe I’ll let you get a head start on practicing to create a couple of little Jensen spawns.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly behind his glasses, weighing his options before grinning and standing uncomfortably as he did his best to readjust himself. “That’s a tempting offer.” He muttered into your hair after slinging an arm around your shoulder to pull you into him. He didn’t budge when you tried to take a step and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll wear the Princess Kitana outfit.”

A pause, and then, “Thirty more minutes then we’re leaving.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Neither of you made it thirty minutes, between Jake practically pawing at you the whole time you stood by the bar with him, and you pressing up against him at every given opportunity he was dragging you out the doors in ten.

#jake jensen x woc!reader #jake jensen x black!reader #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen x woc #jake jensen reader #jake jensen smut #jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen fic #jake jensen fanfic #woc!reader #black!reader #trilla writes #shamelesshoesforchris2021

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sky-berrie · 3 years

Note

How would the batboys react to a female SO with Paranoid Personality Disorder?

Hi there!

Thanks so much for the ask. I hope this is okay :)

-Sky

Bruce

As a person living with paranoid personality disorder, you might be terrified that people are out to harm you. Your place of residence, Gotham city, does nothing but exacerbate your paranoid thought patterns, since criminals run rampant through the streets. It’s hard to distinguish between paranoid thoughts and substantiated concerns. Is that sketchy person with the full face covering one of Black Mask’s False Face Society members sent to abduct you, or are they just a conscientious citizen taking extra precautions to avoid contracting or transmitting the COVID virus? Being in a state of constant fear prevents you from living your life to the fullest. Luckily, your S/O happens to be Batman in his free time.

Bruce eases your mind just with his presence. He’s probably the smartest, strongest, and most resourceful person you know and being with him makes you feel safe. Bruce is the kind of person who you’d blindly listen to during an emergency – if he told you to jump out of a burning plane, you’d do it without a second thought because he’s never let you down in the past and you’re confident that he never will in the future. If you’re feeling fearful in public, Bruce will grab your hand or put an arm around you securely and soothingly whisper in your ear that he’s right here and there’s nothing to worry about. Having paranoid thoughts means that it’s difficult to reason with you, so you probably aren’t convinced that there is no threat, but you do experience some relief from his soft touch and gentle words. He’ll ask if you want to leave and he’ll take you to your safe space. If you’re feeling fearful in private, Bruce will hold you close and rub your back to reduce your anxiety. If you’re by yourself and start to have those racing, panicked paranoid thoughts, you can always call Bruce. He’ll drop whatever he is doing and come take care of you.

Bruce will teach you self defense to help you feel more comfortable around people. He won’t arm you with any dangerous weapons because he doesn’t want an innocent person to get hurt if you get spooked. Bruce will ask if you want to move into the manor since it has strong security and comes with several vigilantes. If you would rather stay at your own place, Bruce will install a variety of safety systems to make you feel protected. He’ll even spend most nights at your place so you can sleep peacefully. Overall, Bruce is like your lifeline. He’ll know just what to do to help you through your difficult thoughts.

Dick

Dick is a social butterfly who’s had his fair share of romantic partners in the past so it’s natural for you to feel jealous when he spends time with other people. Dick will adamantly declare that he’s with you and only you. At first you might try to ignore the prickly feeling of jealousy because you don’t want to come off as a possessive S/O, but the clues accumulate and suggest that he’s cheating on you. For example, he’ll rarely spend the night with you. You’ll catch him sneaking into bed at ungodly hours of the morning. When confronted, he’ll make up an excuse that he just went to get a drink of water or use the bathroom. You’ll spot bruises scattered over his chest knowing you definitely did not leave those there. He’ll play it off as a gym injury.

When you raise your suspicions, Dick is hesitant to explain. You take this as confirmation of infidelity and you’re ready to walk out. At that point, he has no choice but to come clean about his secret identity as Nightwing. That sounds farfetched and you likely think he’s a pathological liar. Finally, Dick proves it to you and explains that he didn’t want you to be dragged into his dangerous nightlife. While you accept that as the truth, you’ll always wonder if he’s hiding more secrets. Furthermore, you’re probably pissed that he was gaslighting you. Dick will do everything he can to make it up to you. He’ll apologize profusely and in extravagant ways, be more transparent, and shower you with excessive love and affection. It might take a long time, but eventually Dick will worm his way back into your good graces.

It doesn’t take long for the green-eyed monster to rear its’ ugly head again. Now that you’re in the know, you’re hyperaware of the attractive vigilantes that Dick works with and it’s emotionally draining to be jealous all the time. You don’t want to be the type of person who tries to control their partner’s life, but when the suffering becomes too much to bear, you might ask him to stop seeing certain people. Dick will calmly assure you that there isn’t anything going on with any of his vigilante friends. If that doesn’t appease you, he’ll suggest that you hang out with the team and get to know them. He hopes that you’ll see that there aren’t any romantic feelings between them. Whatever you do, please don’t force him to choose between you and his hero life. It will tear him apart.

Jason

Trust is very important to Jason. He doesn’t trust many people as it is and needs a S/O who he can trust wholeheartedly and who will trust him in return. He believes that this relationship will fail if you don’t have confidence in each other. He’ll take it personally if you distrust him. Jason will get defensive and frustrated if you accuse him of being unfaithful, especially if you don’t have a shred of evidence to support your claims. He’ll be offended and deeply hurt that you think so negatively of him but once he’s had some time to cool off, he’ll be able to process everything more objectively. He’ll accept that you can’t control the way you feel. You’d explained it to him once that you do trust him, but there’s a separate voice in your head that tells you otherwise. Jason won’t give up on you though. He’ll come up with a proposition - he’ll agree to install a tracking app on his phone so you can monitor his whereabouts if you’ll promise to work on learning to trust him, whether it be via professional psychotherapy or reading self-help books.

On the other hand, if Jason is one of the only people you trust, he’ll be elated to know that you two have built such a strong connection. It’ll be easy to confide in him because he’ll gladly listen to your worried thoughts with no judgement. At first, he’ll reassure you that nothing bad is going to happen to you – he’s Red Hood and nobody is going to pull anything on you if they value their life. Eventually he’ll realize that trying to reason with you isn’t helpful so he’ll stick to active listening when you’re experiencing paranoid thoughts.

However, if Jason is fresh out of the pit and emotionally unstable, you two will probably bond over your mutual distrust and cynicism about the world. Although you and Jason will get along exceptionally well, it’s possible that your irrational thoughts may feed each other’s paranoia and exacerbate the feelings of mistrust and suspicion. If you find yourself unable to let things go, feel free to vent away when you’re with Jason. He is the king of holding grudges, so he’ll probably support you and even join in on trash talking that person with you when you’re angry. Learning to forgive and forget is something you and Jason can work on together. In a way, it brings you two closer together since you understand each other on a level that others can’t begin to comprehend.

Tim

Tim very compassionate and patient; however, he’s afraid of triggering you so he’s often walking on eggshells around you. He just wants to be the perfect supportive S/O for you and doesn’t want to mess up the relationship. His worst offense (in your eyes) is using ambiguous language that lends to multiple interpretations. For example, he might innocently compliment your clothes/hair/makeup and you might assume that he only likes you for your appearance or that he’s implying that you’re vain for wanting to look nice. The moment you shoot him daggers, he’s realized his mistake and starts to furiously backpedal. He tries to explain himself, but he usually ends up digging himself a deeper hole. Eventually, he gets better at expressing his thoughts carefully so that they can’t be misconstrued.

Tim diligently tries to learn your other triggers and how to help. When you’re stuck in a cycle of paranoid thoughts, Tim will get you to focus on what’s real instead of trying to make you see sense. He’ll help you relax by walking you through breathing exercises, playing soothing music, or whatever strategies you find helpful.

Tim isn’t proud of this, but he’s resorted to deceiving you when necessary. For instance, if you’re experiencing paranoid thought patterns and want to be alone, Tim will hesitantly leave, but he’ll probably secretly monitor you only because he’s worried about your safety. If you’re afraid that others are reading your mind, he might pretend that he invented an anti-mindreading helmet to ease your suspicions. He knows you would feel betrayed if you ever found out about his dishonesty, but he reasons that your safety and comfort are more important in the moment.

Damian

Arguments with Damian are brutal. No matter how insignificant the disagreement is, Damian refuses to back down when he believes he’s right. Paired with your own stubbornness and contentiousness, these quarrels generally result in an impasse. Eventually your anger subsides and the depression sinks in. You might assume that Damian doesn’t love you anymore and that fight was the end of your relationship. Maybe you start packing your belongings to move out right away. Damian comes up behind you and asks what you’re doing. When you tell him that you’re leaving because he doesn’t want you anymore, he’s instantly remorseful. He takes your bags out of your hands and proceeds to pull you in close as he tells you how much he loves you. He assures you that two people can disagree and still love each other.

Damian doesn’t want to argue with you and he certainly doesn’t want to see you upset so he’ll always excuse himself before the argument becomes too heated. He hopes that some time apart will allow you both to calm down and come to a compromise, but it’s never that simple. Most of the time, you’ll need a third-party mediator, like a therapist, to resolve your dispute. The act of seeking out a therapist will be a huge accomplishment for your relationship. Damian likes his privacy and doesn’t want someone else in his business and you might be afraid to share intimate information with a stranger in fear that it will be used against you. Nevertheless, you both want to make this relationship work, so you’ll continue to seek help.

Damian has a habit of being blunt. He doesn’t mean to criticize or insult you – in his mind, he is only stating the facts or his opinion for the purpose of helping you improve. Despite his goodhearted intentions, it’s easy for you to take his comments the wrong way and perceive it as a personal attack. If he sees that his remarks have upset you, he’ll acknowledge all the positive aspects of your performance. Still, you might cling to the disparaging comments and ignore the praise. Going forward, Damian will try to be more encouraging and constructive and will only express feedback if you invite him to do so.

#batfam headcanons #batfam x y/n #batfam x reader #batboys headcanons #batboys x reader #batboys x y/n #bruce wayne headcanon #dick grayson headcanon #jason todd headcanon #tim drake headcanon #batfamily headcanons #batfamily x y/n #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #time drake #Damian Wayne #robinchicklets

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halstudandruz · 3 years

Text

Give In

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Tragedy occurs after a night of passion

Warnings: swearing, talk of mentally abusive relationship, miscarriage/pregnancy loss

“Don’t come crying to me when you need support for that mistake.” Jared scoffed, bringing tears to your eyes at his words.

“I should’ve never come here.” You shook your head, “I should’ve listened to Jay.” You put your hand over your stomach protectively.

“Oh here we go again. Because Jay knows everything, and I’m supposed to believe that’s my kid and not his in there? Spare me.” He laughed in your face.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you I haven’t slept with him.” You yelled, getting angrier by the second.

“At least I can admit I fucked Sarah.” He shrugged.

“Well, I caught you so it’s not like you had an opportunity to lie.” You reminded him.

“I was doing perfectly fine the last 4 months. I must say though, I’m quite glad I won’t have to sit here and watch you get any fatter.” He smirked, a cocky look on his face. Trying to hurt you with his words.

“You’re such a jackass. I’m done with this.” You turned walking out of your once shared apartment, slamming the door behind you.

Jay had told you not to go there. Told you it would end bad, but you thought he deserved to know. He might’ve been a terrible boyfriend, but you figured he deserved a chance to be a decent father, but as always Jay was right. You and Jared had been together for over a year and your relationship was a rollercoaster. He was charming, but manipulative. He never hurt you physically, but he knew all the right ways to hurt you with his words, to make you feel self conscious, less than, and crazy. Then you found him in bed with your old friend, and that was the end of it. You finally had the courage to leave that you had been searching for. Except a couple months later you made the mistake of spending the night with him. The case you had that week really got to you. You were out drinking with your team when you caught Jay leaving with a nurse from Chicago Med, and jealousy reared its ugly head harder than ever before. Without thinking you ended up in front of your old apartment and the night did not end there. A month later you found out you were pregnant. Karma’s a bitch. Jay was the first person you told.

“You’re joking.” He looked at you shocked as you both stood in the break room.

“Believe me I wish I was.” You looked helplessly at him.

“Okay well what are you going to do?” He eventually asked after the shock wore off some.

“I’m gonna go apartment hunting this week. I swear I’ll be out soon.” You answered.

“What? No that’s not what I meant. I meant about the douchebag of the equation.” He explained.

“I mean I have to tell him.” You answered.

“What? No you don’t. You shouldn’t.” He countered.

“It’s his too Jay.” You tried to reason.

“[Y/N], if you go over there it’s going to end one of two ways. He somehow manipulates you into forgiving him or he hurts you worse than he already has.” He argued.

“So what am I supposed to do? Just lie to my kid when they’re old enough to ask questions?” You said.

“When did this even happen? You’ve been broken up for over a mon-“ He started to ask, but Adam interrupted your conversation peeking his head in.

“Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt,” he looked between you two suspiciously, “but we got a ping on Rudder’s phone.” He informed you guys as you followed him out the door.

You and Jay had been partners for 3 years. He was very standoffish when you first started. You were informed through the grapevine his last partner had left him and moved to New York. So, he had every right to be skeptical, but your relationship eventually progressed and you had a dynamic unlike any other. However, you were also like any other girl that came into contact with the younger Halstead, taken back by his good looks and determined yet soft nature, but he was just your partner. You worked together. You couldn’t get involved, and he was going through a rough break up. It wasn’t fair to try anything. Unfortunately, that didn’t lessen your attraction any further and it only got worse as your relationship developed.

Jay had offered to let you move in with him after you had caught Jared. You planned on finding an apartment right away, but things kept getting in the way and Jay wasn’t trying to push you out the door. Walking into his apartment you laid your keys on the stand hanging up your purse and coat before walking further in to find Jay sitting on the couch watching TV. Turning to face you he sighed immediately getting up to hug you, no words needing to be spoken. The anger finally took over showing itself by the tears that began to soak Jay’s neck. Eventually you gathered yourself moving to sit by him on the couch.

“I should’ve listened to you.” You laughed attempting to wipe the tears off your face. A small smile appeared on Jay’s lips as he shook his head.

“No, you shouldn’t have. You were right. This baby deserves the best life ever, and it wouldn’t have been fair to them if you didn’t give him a choice.” He said, hand tickling your stomach, making it flip at his touch.

“I just wish he made the right one.” You admitted, laughing.

“You deserve better. I’ve been telling you that since day one. I hated seeing how he treated you, how he changed you. You’ve always been too good for him, and you deserve someone who gives you and this little peanut the world.” He replied.

“Why can’t it be you?” You said after a few minutes of silence.

“What?” He looked at you confused, eyebrows scrunched.

“Do you know how this happened?” You gestured to your stomach.

“Of course I know how it happened.” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“No,” you shook your head adjusting yourself, “I mean do you know when this happened?” You reiterated.

“No. I didn’t want to pry.” He admitted.

“It was the night Hazel stayed over.” You explained, and guilt flushed over his face.

“[Y/N], I told you I was sorry about that. This is your apartment now too. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or feel like you couldn’t come home.” He started to apologize, making you laugh.

“No, Jay. I didn’t want to come home because I was jealous.” You said waiting for it to click.

“Jealous of what?” He looked even more confused making you frustrated.

“Oh my god Jay. Of you and her! Of you with her!” You huffed throwing your hands in the air. Taking a deep breath you shook your head, “I just didn’t want to come back and see her here, or god forbid hear her. When all I wanted was to be the one in your room.” You admitted getting nauseous at the thought of them together.

“I don’t know what to say.” He sighed after a few minutes of grappling within his own head.

“Oh god. I’m sorry I should’ve never said anything.” Your embarrassment took over, feeling your face turn red you moved to stand up and hurry out of the room, but he pulled you back down beside him, closer this time.

“No. Don’t be. It’s just...I wish it was as easy as that. Believe me I do..” He said, breath noticeably quickening at the thought.

“It can be.” You replied after a couple seconds of intense silence.

“[Y/N], we work together, we’re partners, you’re having someone else’s baby. There’s a lot of factors.” He explained, but you could tell he was trying to convince himself.

“Do you want this as bad as I do?” You asked gently, resting your hand on his, but he stayed quiet. “Just for one night. Can’t we just give into ourselves for one night?” You bargained your face inching closer with each thought, “if you don’t want this I promise I’ll go to bed now and we can never speak of this again.” You stopped a few inches from his face refusing to make the move. The decision was in his hands now. His eyes searched your face, breathing heavy, and you watched the moment his resolve gave away, throwing caution to the wind and groaning a quiet,

“[Y/N].” Before he closed the distance his lips meeting yours in an urgency you had never felt before.

You were woken up by a sharp pain in your stomach. Turning to roll on your back you collided with warm skin, belonging to someone who grunted pulling you closer with the arm wrapped around your waist. Remembering who it was you felt a small smile appear on your lips, but it was stolen away by another pain radiating from your abdomen. Wincing you gently lifted Jay’s arm attempting to slide out from under it, brain registering the wetness you felt between your legs. Jesus, you liked him and all, but you figured you could control yourself a little instead of waking up completely ready to go again. Shaking your head you slipped off the bed, the liquid between your legs growing, becoming a little too prominent with the accompanied pains. “Jay.” you croaked out voice hoarse, terror immediately coming to surface as the red came into view. He didn’t stir. “Jay!” You tried again bracing yourself against the bed as a dizziness started to swirl in your mind. At your insistence he grunted eyes slowly opening.

“[Y/N]?” He asked blinking and attempting to reach for where you lay minutes prior.

“Jay, somethings wrong.” You began to cry, panic obvious in your voice by the quivering, but trying not to scare him. You watched as his awareness finally clicked seconds later, sitting straight up in bed looking from the blood stained sheet to you. Another cramp hitting, this time making you fall to your knees just as Jay reached you, pulling you back up in his arms. Somehow throwing a shirt on in the process.

“Alright come on I got you. It’s alright baby. You’re okay.” He hurriedly helped you put shorts on as you had only been sporting his shirt from the night before. Cradling you in his arms, running down to his truck, and burning tire towards the hospital, lights and sirens echoing in the background while he weaved through traffic, pulling up to the doors of Chicago Med not too long after. Your head was shoved in his chest breathing through the pain. You felt lightheaded barely aware of all that was happening as you heard Jay yelling for a nurse before sitting you down in a wheelchair.

“I’m assuming you’re the father? Otherwise we can’t permit you-“ The nurse began to ask, even more panic taking over at the thought of being alone before you heard Jay answer with a simple,

“Yes.” After a few tests were done your suspicions were confirmed. You had lost the baby, and you didn’t know how to feel. Jay climbed into bed beside you pulling you into his chest letting the sobs soak his shirt while he rubbed you back, “I’m so sorry. I’m right here though, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here. It’s all going to be okay.” He promised kissing your head, and if it wasn’t for the man holding you, you weren’t sure if you ever would’ve believed that.

All Tag List:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @smclelli @inlovewith3

Jay Taglist:

@justadreamxx @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @queen-of-arda

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #Chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #tw: miscarriage #tw: pregnancy loss

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theelvenhaven · 3 years

Text

Jealous Fingolfin

- When it comes to being jealous, while Fingolfin has a more cool and rational temperament than his elder brother, it still rears its ugly head in your presence at times.

- He tries hard not to get carried away with the feeling, wanting to make sure that there are truly no grounds to be upset over first. Trying to look at it from a different perspective, instead of just with tunnel vision.

- If he were feeling jealous, he’d keep it tame and under-wraps instead of lashing out and being vicious about it against you.

- He’s not unreasonable and he won’t embarrass you over how he feels, as he’d rather calmly get to the bottom of the situation without any issues.

- If for whatever reason, the problem cannot be addressed immediately, Fingolfin will continue to carry on as normal, waiting patiently for the moment he can get alone with you.

- Even if it’s an obvious reason to be jealous over, Fingolfin won’t say anything publicly, but don’t be fooled into thinking that he will let it continue right before his eyes or without him present.

- Instead Fingolfin will politely excuse you from the situation, telling you that it is imperative that you both talk, giving you no room to try and avoid the confrontation to come.

- Though Fingolfin is surely feeling a storm in his chest over whatever has made him jealous, he is considerably gentle in confronting you about what all is going on with you.

- They’ll be seemingly harmless questions, trying to figure who that elf/human is to you, why you’re so overly friendly, how long you’ve known them, what their personality is like, etc.

- If it truly is harmless, Fingolfin will merely drop it and work settling his own upsets with the whole situation. He wouldn’t want to cause upset where there doesn’t need to be any and possibly interfere with your friendship.

- But if there is grounds for him to believe his jealousy is just and not unfounded, Fingolfin will tell you flat out that he is unhappy with the behavior being exhibited by you to this elf/human.

- He will explain that he doesn’t mind that you make friends and forge friendships but that x behavior is causing an issue and that he would appreciate i you could pull back.

- Now if someone is coming onto you and stirring his feelings of jealousy, again Fingolin will be the one to pull you aside and explain what is happening to you- especially if you seem oblivious to it.

- Should you be aware and uncomfortable with the behavior of the person but can’t escape, Fingolfin will certainly come to your rescue. Keeping you close to him for the duration of the event or night that they will be around.

- Fingolfin is fair and just even in jealousy, ready to clear up any misconceptions or calmly work out the issue at hand.

* * *

tags: @saviorsongwrites @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandom-hoe101 @icarus-fell-in-spring @allinwonderlands @red-riding @eluriel-undomiel

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

And he said, I hope you know how to swim

A/N: this is for the gift exchange from @itfandomprompts! My giftee is @iheartthoreau who asked for shy skinny dipping lovers and jealous Eddie. I’m sorry it’s out so late, I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Summary: The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s bare foot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent.

warnings: skinny dipping, mentioned of nudity (but nothing graphic)

read on a3o

The atmosphere of six best friends who’ve just moved past the worst stages in their life cackles in Eddie’s brain.

He’s buzzed up, energized beyond all logic by the laughter and loving gestures so carelessly tossed around in their group. Pennywise is dead, and with it the looming threat following each of them around and the teasing unhappiness hinting at what they were missing but not giving any clues as to what.

It’s all over now, and a road full of new opportunities lays ahead of them. Everyone is acting loose, ecstatic with the weight that fell off their shoulders. Eddie’s feeling a tad guilty too, for calling Myra and informing her that way about their upcoming divorce that he’s going to set in motion as soon as he’s had a good night sleep, but he felt so brave after surviving a literal killer clown, that he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

A part of him was also frightful that he’d lose his courage, between now and getting home, that he’d look around his house and accept that this was all he was destined for, a mediocre life with a wife he didn’t love and a job that sucked the joy out of all employees. Myra deserved better though, and that’s why Eddie’s guilty eyeing his phone, debating on calling her back. He won’t take back what he said, because he’s relieved to have put it out in the open, but he’s unsure if he should have been more empathetic towards her feelings in all of this. If he should have ended the call after telling her to take care.

Bev notices his wandering eyes from where she seated beside him on the couch, the woman still laughing a stitch, shifting forward and hiding his phone in between seat cushions. Out of sight out of mind so to speak.

‘We’ve got time to worry about it tomorrow Eddie.’ She says, and she’s right. Tomorrow both him and Bev will have to deal with the intricacies of divorce and separating a company and a home. Tonight is reserved for the losers only.

‘Yeah Eds, and here I was assuming that after twenty years we’d have some stuff to catch up on.’

Richie regards him from the floor, legs tossed up upon the couch with his body upside down. His glasses are sliding off, but he’s lazy to fix them, so he looks like even more of a goofball than normal. If Eddie could, if he didn’t feel like his intentions would be even more noticeable if he did, he’d scoot over to Richie, adjusting his glasses and letting his fingers trail his cheek and bask in the skin to skin contact.

‘You never did anything interesting before we went to college, what makes you think you’ve done something interesting after?’ Eddie’s tongue is sharp, a façade he builds to stop speculation about his feelings towards Richie, though the truth is that he is intrigued and he craves to know every small detail about his life outside of Derry.

‘No you guys are not starting this again. I’m sick of your bickering,’ Bill interjects, rolling his eyes at the pair.

‘I reject that big Bill, we’re hilarious, you can’t be sick of us bickering when you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing it for the last twenty years. Michael, back me up here buddy.’

‘Sorry Rich, I’m not getting involved in the slightest.’

‘Yeah guys come on, can’t we have one quiet night in?’

‘What so Eddie can just call me boring and I’m supposed to let it slide? Me? I’m the fireworks on the Fourth of July, the highest roller coaster in the park and the whipped cream on strawberries, but I am not boring.’ Richie changes positions, almost accidentally knocking over his beer bottle. He theatrically waves his arms back and forth, trying to animate his words and add conviction.

‘Okay, okay you’re not boring, but don’t overrate yourself either. The most adventurous thing you ever did in high school was skip a class to read a comic book in the school’s bathroom. Not exactly daredevil behavior.’

Bev sips from her whiskey, winking at Richie whose face turns beet red for a reason Eddie can’t decipher. It’s not until Bev conspicuously blows out a gust of air with her lips puckered that Eddie connects the dots.

‘Didn’t you say you ditched because you were smoking with Beverly? Dude did you fucking lie about that? I was worried you’d die and get cancer ever since that day you piece of shit.’

‘No I definitely did smoke. I swear.’

‘You’re not kidding anyone Rich, I vouched for you all those years ago, but I’m not doing it again. Little Richie was a comic book nerd who just pretended to be really cool. We never ever smoked together.’

The losers all holler, clapping their hands together and cheering on the exposure of their foulmouthed friend, debunking all the story Richie apparently made up where he and Be had to sneak out at night to smoke inconspicuously, with the exception of Eddie and Richie. Eddie, because he’s busy glaring at Richie and Richie because he’s busy tapping Bill’s hand away, teasingly disheveling his hair.

Eddie wishes he was brave enough to give these little affections to his friend, especially after witnessing how soothed Richie got when Eddie hugged him after Neibolt, when he had dropped his face into the nape of Eddie’s neck and stayed there, swaying on his feet of exhaustion. It would only make him a good friend, a best friend, but Eddie is still so damn afraid.

He might have had the power to separate from his wife and kill an abstract form of his deepest fears, but Bowers angry yelled words, such as fairy and faggot, swung to his head any time he and Richie graveted closer while walking, haunt him even now.

Touching is off limits the words tell him, so he shows affection the only way he’s ever known towards Richie, by bickering and pulling pigtails.

‘I should have expected that.’ Eddie nods vehemently, laughing as Richie’s mouth drops open in a shocked manner.

‘Are you kidding me? Eddie Spaghetti is the one telling me I’m a loser?’

Eddie flips him off, ignoring Mike’s whispered; ‘he’s got a point’, in favor of levitating his full attention on Richie. The giggling in the room elevates an octave higher.

‘You all laugh’, Richie addresses the entire group, ‘but was I not the one who came up with the idea for the list?’

Abruptly, all sounds snap off, as everyone is snapped back to the past. Even Richie is, at face value, confused about the word he spoke, until the concept and creation of the list is brought to the forefront of everyone’s mind.

‘Holy shit.’

‘Oh my god Mike please tell me you still have it.’

Mike shakes his head with a far-off look. ‘Sorry guys, I don’t know who had it last but I never found it again.’ He’s saddened by it, like he did them all an injustice by not holding on to a flimsy piece of paper.

The List, capital L, was nothing more but a checklist, composed with all the fun and dangerous things the losers all had hopes of doing after graduating high school. Eddie remembers now, the hushed laughter and uncompromisable joy that came with the simple idea of these things, how everyone pitched in and added dare after dare while him and Stan exchanged glances and hoped to god that some things would never be executed.

‘That’s okay Mike, I’m just happy we can all remember making it.’ Ben smiles reassuringly Mike’s way, who smiles back and takes a deep breath.

‘Wait, I think I can recall some of the things we wrote on there. Hold on’, Bev squeezes her eyes shut and snaps her finger in the hope it will get to her faster. ‘Oh’, she exclaims, startling Bill who chokes on his own saliva, ‘we were going to visit Europe, do a high rope parkour, rock climb and some other things I can’t remember right now.’

‘Didn’t we also agree to volunteer in a hospital and go camping in the national forest?’ Ben asks, awaiting confirmation.

‘Yeah we did, Stan was throwing a fit over going camping because of the environment and the dirt, but we were well on our way to convince him.’

‘Wow,’ Richie breathes, chest puffing up and head dropping back into the couch so his face isn’t visible to the rest. ‘I forgot all about that, but come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I did most of those things with Bryan.’

And who the fuck is Bryan? Certainly not Eddie, sweating in fear from the things that were being listed, searching for the most extreme dares he’d seen happen on tv to suggest, doing anything he could to impress Richie. Eddie was terrified of most of the activities on the list, like Bev’s idea to waterski in the ocean, or Mike’s zip lining idea, but he would have done them if it meant he could bask in Richie’s attention, impress Richie to rid himself of scared baby Eddie was so sure he must have been in Richie’s eyes. So who the hell was this Bryan stealing his thunder like that?

‘Who’s Bryan?’ Bev inquires with a smirk, winking at Richie blush ridden face. Eddie’s jealousy rears its ugly head, flaring up and making his head woozy. He simultaneously both considers choking Bev and thanking her for the question.

With Richie’s secret fresh on his mind, the way he’d so shamefully admitted that he was gay and they were the first people he’d ever found the courage to tell, Eddie wondered if Bryan was perhaps someone Richie had been romantically involved with.

Richie would have deserved it, Eddie argues in his mind, to at least for a short period of time have someone love him back as fiercely as he dons it out, but Eddie’s also furious that he stole Richie out from under his nose.

Which is illogical, because even if he and Richie had managed to stay in touch, and Eddie confessed – not much chance there, as Eddie didn’t even tell anyone he was gay when Richie did - there was no guaranty that Richie would’ve reciprocated.

‘No one snoopy’, Richie argues with a jittery leg, ’just some guy I hung out with for a while.’

Bev appears unconvinced, but she’s also respectful towards Richie's decision to not say anything. ‘So which ones did you complete?’

‘I went to Europa senior year of college, smoked a bunch of weed, went zip lining. The normal kind of stuff.’

Zip-lining, or smoking weed for that matter, causes Eddie skin to crawl, not that he’d ever admit it. He hates that that’s not the case for Bryan.

‘Well thanks Rich, none of us ever did anything on the list without the other losers. I guess you didn’t miss us too much.’ It’s not fair, of course it’s not. He can tell by the eagerness to spend time together that Richie was very lonely, and experienced the same aching emptiness where his friends were supposed to be as the rest of them.

The bitter tone of Eddie's speech, and the way Richie’s eyes turn a little dimmer extinguishes the fire of Eddie’s envy. Richie deserves better than him in every way. An apology lies at the tip of his tongue, ready to jump into the open and hopefully aid the wounds before they’re fully developed.

Sensing the impending hurricane of trouble on the horizon Mike is eager to intervene, playing mediator for two forces that are about to collide. ‘Well I mean, we probably wouldn’t have gone through with most of them anyway.’

‘Speak for yourself’, Eddie waves him off, spiteful that Mike has a good point. He would have found a way to undermine their plans and make it so that he could back out without appearing like a meek lamb, for at least half of the activities. If he had known about Bryan’s existence though, he would have done anything. He feels ready now to do anything, to one up him and establish his spot as Richie’s number one.

‘Prove it,’ Bill dares with a lopsided smirk, certain he’s got Eddie beat. He sustains eye contact, reaching for the bag of chips on the table and gnawing on it with the most smug aura Eddie has ever witnessed him having.

‘I would’, Eddie defends fiercely, ‘but we can’t do any of the things in Derry.’

‘Sounds like a cop out to me.’

‘Yeah, sure Big Bill, because you can easily find a zip line here in Derry. The town that refused to spend money on renewing the library back in the eighties is no doubt going to have that installed by now.’

‘What about skinny dipping?’ Ben proposes innocently, having no idea the kind of strain he’s putting Eddie under.

‘That’s a great idea Ben, I forgot we put that one on the list.’ Beverly acknowledges despite Eddie’s frantic head shaking. The room temperature drops down and rises back up steadily, at least according to Eddie. He’s starting to sweat, something he never does and takes pride in – in the office he’s the level headed one, and that’s saying something – and he pulls at his collar to allow some air to ventilate.

Everything except that. A swim in a dirty lake that was most likely infected was a whole plate of different bacteria, and being naked in front of the man he’s in love with is not something Eddie is particularly fond of. He almost asks for a different thing to do, but that would truly be a cop out, and he both refuses to back down in front of Richie and give Bill the satisfaction of being right.

‘Good luck with that Eds, question before this all goes down, am I allowed to use this in my next bit?’

‘Actually,’ Bev interrupts, ‘I think you should join him too.’

‘Hey I wasn’t the one that said I’d be willing to do anything.’

‘No, but you were the one who added it on the list in the first place. C’mon Richie, It’ll be fun. For us, not for you guys, but we’ll get a good laugh out of it.’

Richie is hesitant, same as Eddie, readjusting his glasses again. Eddie is sure that if he says the word Richie will tell everyone to back down for him. He wouldn’t even make fun of Eddie for it, should Eddie give any indication that he wouldn’t want him too. He thinks back to Bryan, and how he wouldn’t have backed down for such a thing, and how in awe Richie must have been seeing the man abandon all safety precaution and go for it, Eddie’s mind is made up instantly.

‘Let’s do it.’ He says without leaving room for argument, nodding at Richie as he looks to him. He hopes Richie will go with it, but is also confident that of course he will. As kids they followed each other everywhere, and surely that hasn’t changed.

‘Really? I mean yeah – sure I guess. Bring it on.’

-----

The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s barefoot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Eddie’s jumping from one foot to the other, annoyed that dirt is clinging to his skin and branches are piercing his soles, even more aggravated at the idea of cleaning them in infection filled lake water. Bev better keep her end of the promise, and be waiting near the end of the lake with a pair of fresh pressed towels.

Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent.

‘I forgot how high this was.’

It is high up, but they’ve done this jump at least a hundred times before, so Eddie’s not worried about the plunge. He’d assume Richie isn’t either, but the man keeps glances towards the path they took to get up here, uncharacteristically silent.

‘It’s okay if you're too scared to go through with it Eduardo, I won’t tell the others.’ Richie smirks when he notices Eddie’s glance, crossing his arms over his chest.

The movement makes his shoulders bulk, highlighting just how much bigger Richie is compared to Eddie. Eddie’s mouth waters, and he starts to worry about how he’s going to have to get through seeing Richie’s naked shoulders in the flesh.

‘Just get undressed will you? Hurry up.’

‘Why? Eager to see my bare ass?’

‘Yeah, because who doesn’t think jumping naked into a lake they frequented as kids is the epitome of sexiness? No you self-centered idiot, I want to get it over with so I can go back to the Inn and grab a warm shower.’

With one last peek, Eddie moves backwards, standing away from the ledge and begins to unbutton his shirt, before thinking better off it. Richie picks up on his hesitation, shifting backwards too and motioning his head towards the ridge.

‘Do you want me to show you how it’s done?’

‘No,’ Eddie objects, ‘I’ll go first.’

‘Why? I’m not going to stare at your junk while you're jumping in if that’s what you're worried about Eddie. I’m not that kind of gay.’ Rarely does Richie toss aside an opportunity to grant Eddie another humorous nickname, so the use of his real name spooks Eddie just enough that he opens his mouth to apologize without even realizing what he’s apologizing for.

Richie’s facial expression, set in a grimace and squinting his eyes defensively, are a dead give away that Eddie’s words are being taken the wrong way. If only Richie knew that Eddie wanted him to go in first so he could avoid the same temptation Richie thought he was forcing on him.

‘Richie no, that’s not what I meant I-.’ Heartfelt compliments are not something Eddie has had a lot of practice for these last few years, and he’s not doing a good job catching up on them either. Therefore he sighs and hopes that he can find another way to prove to Richie he’d never accuse him of something like that. ‘Whatever, just go first already.’

‘Fine but turn around okay?’

Eddie listens to him, back towards Richie and the jump off, though he doesn’t really understand the request. With Richie comes a lot of flair, and he was more or less been prepared for a joke about how Eddie got to confirm how big his dick is in reality.

He waits and listens carefully for the sounds of clothes being dropped on the ground, and he can’t stop his mind from secretly imagining how Richie looks like without them once he distinguishes it. Eddie shakes his head, scolding his own mind.

The next few moments are filled with raspy breaths originating from Richie, footstep sounding further away and then closer again in an erratic pattern. He must be scared of the jump. Under normal circumstances, Eddie would ask to jump in at the same time, but since Richie asked Eddie not to turn around, he won’t.

‘If you don’t jump in the next five minutes,’ Eddie teases, the way Richie used to tease him, ‘I’ll push you in.’ A second later Eddie hears Richie’s loud whooping as he plunges down into the dark water.

Eddie spins, the only thing greeting him the dark with very little light clearing up his path, from the moon. He’s having a hard time to even see where the cliff ends, and he can’t disguise Richie in the water at all.

‘I’m coming in’, he yells to the void, in case Richie can’t discern his body in time and needs to move out of the way. He takes off his clothes, goosebumps erupting on his skin, and folds his pants and t-shirt up neatly, touching the ground with his hands to find a dry spot to lay them on. The air is cold, and so Eddie refuses to linger on top any longer than he has to.

He jogs up to the ledge and darts off before his mind can conjure up the thousands of things that can go wrong from swimming in the dark this late at night. His body flies through the air and connects with the water in one swoop, a pit of glee bursting in Eddie’s stomach. Jumping from the quarry equals freedom, a hot summer day and love for all of his friends, but in particular Richie.

Eddie keeps his head underwater until his lungs burn, eyes closed and allowing himself to just feel all the sensations. Then, something tickles the back of his leg, and the peaceful moment is over. He kicks back the surface, away from the spot where he could swear something touched him, and searches around for Richie.

Richie, with his wet black hair clinging to his forehead, strands of it sticking out in every direction, and his droplet covered glasses, roving more of Eddie’s heart each minute they’re near each other. He’s never looked more beautiful, and Eddie has never had to fight the urge to kiss him as much as he does now.

‘See, I told you I wouldn’t stare Eds, I can’t even see anything with all these splatters on my glasses.’

The moon reflects on the water, so that it’s impenetrable, and neither Rich nor Eddie can look down and see their lower body parts.

What Eddie can see is enough anyway, Richie’s shoulders and part of his chest hold Eddie’s attention, and he forgets to respond to Richie’s comment.

His eyes land on a dark bruise, just on the bottom of Richie’s neck, a remnant of their fight with Pennywise earlier that day. Without thinking, without standing still on the consequences of such an action, Eddie swims closer, stretches his arm out, and lingers his fingertips over the bruise. He carefully positions his body to not touch any other body part of Richie’s except for his fingers on his neck.

He makes an inquisitive noise, thumb stroking over the injury in what he hopes to be a calming matter. He physically can’t pull away, entranced with the way he moves and responds to him, trying but failing to get his fill of Richie clenched.

‘Eddie’, Richie whispers, scared to break the silence and the intimate moment. ‘It’ll be fine. And hey, at least he didn’t do anything to my dick.’

‘Yeah, would have been a shame if it were to become even smaller.’

Richie snorts, retaliating the jest with a wave of dirty water aimed at Eddie.

Eddie gasps, spitting out a bit of water that managed to sneak into his mouth. ‘Oh you’re on.’

The two of them chase each other, and if it weren’t for the fact that they were both naked, Eddie would have thrown his entire body weight in the game to push Richie underwater. As it stands, they just splash back and forth until they’re exhausted and the remnants of their laughter dies out, barely enough energy left to stay afloat side by side.

‘Did you have this much fun with Bryan?’ Eddie asks, a bit envious. He hates how he’s still stuck on the Bryan thing, hates that his mind keeps popping images of them doing the exact same thing only to end it with a kiss.

‘What?’

‘With Bryan, the guy you did all that other stuff with?’

‘Oh no, me and Bryan – we were never together like that.’ Back at the hotel room, Eddie figured that that was a ploy to distract Bev, something Richie just said because he couldn’t comfortably admit the real intent of their relationship. But he’s never lied to Eddie, and his eyes, magnified by his glasses, seem so sincere, Eddie has no other option but to believe him. ‘I-I’m- some other guy already has that place all taken up.’

Eddie stupid, oblivious and dense and everything in between. He knows Richie isn’t talking about him, he knows he could never be the guy Richie would hold all hope out for – he also secretly hopes it’s none of the losers -, but he wants to be so bad. Just one time, just one kiss and he’d be sated enough to let go of his feral behavior towards any potential love interest Richie might have. Just one time.

‘Richie’, Eddie starts, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He’s taking a huge risk, by foreseeing a rejection but hoping that Richie won’t drop him as a friend because of this. If Eddie doesn’t do this, he’ll never stop wondering what it feels for their lips to meet. He’ll never get over Richie because he never got to experience any with him.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He risks releasing his lip.

Richie is visibly shocked. ‘What? What the fuck? Eddie is this a joke?’

The joke is, as usual, all on Eddie who regrets ever opening his mouth in the first place. He could try to laugh it off, say that it was a joke, but that would mean that he pretends to make a jest out of something Richie has struggled with for his entire life. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Left with no other options but to further dig his own grave, Eddie decides to be honest. At least that means he gets to keep part of his integrity.

‘No Richie of course not, I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m sorry. Look I like you but it’s obviously one sided and I just wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you but it was a stupid request and I shouldn’t have asked you that. Oh god, I never even asked if you were dating someone –‘

‘Eds?’

‘- Fuck can we please forget I said anything so we can still hang out?’

‘Eddie?’

‘What?’

‘Yes. Please kiss me.’

Eddie gapes with his mouth open, struggling for breath and for words. He’s half convinced he misinterpreted the words, but his tilted head proves otherwise. Eddie doesn’t question it further, counting his lucky start for once, and leaning in to his emotions and Richie, breaching the water to get to him.

Their kiss is surprisingly gentle for the ungovernable lead up prior to it. Richie’s lips taste like lake water, but deeper underneath lies a tang of something distinctively Richie. Eddie can’t wait to devour him whole once he’s cleaned up. Their lips move together in tandem, a perfect harmony that for once neither are willing to break.

They pull back, Richie’s arms circling Eddie’s waist, and he smiles. His smile mixed with the love stricken gleam in his eyes, mysteriously tells Eddie that Richie feels the exact same way he does. His chest caves with happiness.

‘I like you too, if it wasn’t obvious. A lot more than Bryan.’

‘For the love of God can we never mention that again? It’s embarrassing. No, Hush’, Eddie says urgently, covering Richie’s mouth with his palm when he opens his mouth to conjure up another joke.

‘Fine,’ Richie says while pulling away from Eddie’s hand. ‘How about we talk about something else then? How the fuck are we supposed to get to our clothes?’

#my writing #reddie imagine #reddie fic #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #richie and eddie #adult losers #it chapter two imagine #eddie x richie

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esmesrose · 3 years

Text

Lorraine/Ed (gift for you)

Lorraine is mesmerizing, for so many reasons.

Ed knows this from the moment he first lays eyes on her, all those decades ago when they were both teenagers - fingers brushing softly at the movie theater, laughter in the rain, kisses under the gazebo. His heart was caught from day one, and he’s never pretended otherwise.

One slight issue, of course, is that she is mesmerizing for so many people they meet also. To a certain degree, this fills Ed with pride – of course people should be captivated by his wife, why would they ever not be? But at the same time, he can’t help it whenever a tiny sliver of jealousy rears its ugly head.

Lorraine is beautiful, no matter what she is doing.

Early mornings, when Lorraine’s hair is a mess, her eyes blinking blearily at the suddenly light, and her nose crinkling at the thought of having to get out of bed when it’s still cold. Evenings, when they are both reading side by side on the couch, their shoulders resting together, her glasses perched on the end of her nose, and her hair tickling his neck. Afternoons, when they are out for a stroll through the park, her bright smile lighting up the world around them more than any ray of sunshine. On a case, where she is dressed smartly and sensibly, willing to crawl into a basement or run up a flight of stairs, whilst looking wonderfully fashionable at the same time.

She arrives to help people on their darkest days like a burning symbol of light and beauty, and Ed finds it understandable that so many – men and women alike – are enthralled by her when she helps chase their troubles away.

Or at least, it would be understandable if they didn’t try to flirt at the end of the case. Ed’s eyes narrow as he takes in the scene in front of him.

Mr Williams, husband and father of three, has seemingly forgotten his now-relieved family in the aftermath of their latest demonic possession case, and Ed watches as the man leans ever so slightly closer to Lorraine as she finishes saying something to him. She reaches out to shake hands, about to wrap up the case and say her farewells, and he clasps her hand between both of his; Ed notices his touch lingering even as her arm tenses to pull away.

Ed slides smoothly in next to her, his arm going around her waist so his fingers can rest lightly on her hips. He reaches out his own hand, forcing the man to break contact with her and turn his attention to Ed.

‘We best be going now,’ Ed says in a falsely cheery tone. He can sense the amusement radiating off Lorraine, who isn’t fooled in the slightest by his sudden appearance, but she allows him to lead her gallantly away.

Lorraine is fascinating, with her abilities making her seem almost otherworldly sometimes.

Ed tries to protect her as much as possible, because only he knows the true toll these gifts extract from her. He sees the pain and exhaustion, her fear at what her visions bring, her nightmares when a case refuses to leave her mind. He hates when people don’t take her gifts seriously either, far more than it ever bothers her. There are a few times when the mocking becomes too much, and he wishes he could just punch the person, although he always refrains. It’s a fine line to walk – wanting people to respect her gifts, but wishing that she didn’t have to use them often either.

When she does show them on full display, it’s a sight to behold, however. Ed loves that part of her just as he loves all of her, and while he’ll never be able to know what she sees and goes through, he is there by her side each time.

Those lucky few who get to witness it in person like him are often awestruck, or perhaps even fearful. And then there are those in the classroom, who can watch the videos and be lost in the stories, fascinated by something that is slightly removed from their own reality.

There are always some students who seem to be captivated by these stories, and they flock around Lorraine after their speeches, with hundreds of prying or challenging questions. Ed can practically see the stars in their eyes as they stare at her, riveted by this calm and polite woman with such a powerful gift.

But as always, they don’t know the dark side of it; they’re searching for the mystery and the What Ifs, not the actual woman behind them.

‘Enough questions for today,’ he says, holding up a hand after one such presentation. There is a sigh of disappointment from the large cluster of students surrounding Lorraine, but he shoulders his way through, trying to be civil and yet refusing to be separated from her by a sea of people.

Lorraine finishes up her conversation with a young girl, who is clinging onto her notebook with white knuckles and a slightly dazed look in her eyes, and then smiles up at him.

They leave the classroom arm in arm.

Lorraine is brave.

To many people, especially when they first meet her, she seems a composed and polite woman, exuding elegance right from her fashion choices to her language and behaviour.

And of course, Lorraine IS elegant, and she is composed and polite. But Ed gets to see the ridiculous sense of humour she has at home also, when she is playing with Judy or making him laugh. He enjoys how matter-of-fact she can be when out feeding the chickens or how freeing she finds dancing in his arms.

Perhaps people could guess these sides of her, given enough time. But what they almost always underestimate is how brave Lorraine can be, facing down the darkest creatures of hell. She sees terrible visions without flinching, and converses with spectres and demons as if it is normal – which it practically is, for her.

Occasionally, although Ed would loathe to admit it out loud, he wishes she slightly was less brave. He is less fearful of the demons they fight against than ice-cold terror that runs through his veins whenever he is forced to witness Lorraine in danger. Sometimes, it’s her own gift that leaves her screaming, at risk from a creature in her mind, or being so wrapped up in what is unfolding in her vision that she isn’t aware of the real-world threats around her. Other times, he has to watch as she crawls into a basement to face down an angry ghost, or climbs up into an attic space where only the slightest body can walk along the floor. He hates being left behind, but she always just smiles at him, or rolls her eyes at his attempts to persuade her not to go, and he is left hoping for her safety again and again.

For other people though, they aren’t expecting this type of behaviour from her. This time, Ed notices it in the expressions of the two policemen, who have just watched her scramble out from under a house, a small child clutched in her arms.

He’s already next to her, one hand on her back and the other cupping her elbow as he helps her stand. There is dirt on her knees, spiderwebs in her hair, and a scrape down her cheek that looks flecked with blood, but she’s beaming at him with a bright smile, so he thankfully knows she’s alright.

‘Mrs Warren, let me take the boy,’ one of the policemen says, reaching out to lift the child out of her embrace.

‘That was very impressive, ma’am,’ comes the stutter from the younger officer, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene around him. Lorraine turns her smile towards him, and a bright red flush sweeps across the young man’s cheeks. Ed almost chuckles at his bashfulness, for once having sympathy for someone who is clearly enamoured by Lorraine – he too can never resist her smiles.

But then he can feel her waver slightly in his arms, exhaustion setting in after all she’s done. A passing flashlight illuminates her pale face, and he can see bruising appearing around the gash in her cheek.

‘Come on,’ he says softly, and leads her towards the ambulance.

Lorraine is warm-hearted.

Her warmth, patience and kindness towards others can still amaze Ed, even after all these years, and after all the evilness that’s surrounded her. Other people can sense it also – and not just from those who know who they are and what they do.

They’re at a wedding organized by a close friend of them both, but where most attendees are strangers. Small talk flows comfortably at their table however, with Lorraine skillfully leading the conversation whenever it threatens to peter out into awkward silences, having an innate ability to include everyone in a discussion.

Later, Ed wanders over to the private bar to collect drinks for them both, and as he waits to be served, he turns and scans the crowd, searching for her out of habit.

Lorraine is still standing and talking to the group he’s just left, smiling at whatever is being said. The evening lamps have been lit, and there is a soft glow to her skin. At least two of the (apparently single) wedding guests have closed the gap in the circle where he once stood, clearly trying to be slightly closer to her. He’s not sure if she’s even noticed, so intent is she on listening to her friend’s story, reaching out to rest her hand on the woman’s wrist. The two guests watch her instead, and he watches them. He could go over and interrupt, slotting back beside her in the circle, but at the end of the day, he knows there is nothing to worry about anyway. She’ll be more disgruntled if he comes back empty-handed.

He turns back to the bar, raising his hand and finally capturing the attention of a waiter. The man is busy pouring two glasses of wine, when Ed feels a warmth at his back, and two small hands settle on his waist.

‘Having fun?’ he asks, not turning around, but slipping his hand down so he can entangle his fingers with hers.

‘I’ll have even more fun dancing with you,’ she says sweetly in his ear, and the next thing he knows, he is abandoning their drinks in order to be swept onto the dance floor.

Lorraine settles in his arms, and they dance together for the rest of the evening.

(I was aiming for jealous Ed for you, but kinda stumbled on protective-jealous Ed by mistake…woops.)

I loved it, thank you so much!!!!!♡♡♡♡

#submission

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unwhithered · 3 years

Note

Portamis "I envy anyone who has the pleasure to be loved by you"

Sorry it ended up Jedi!Musketeers because I’m fighting with that fic right now and it’s kind of all I can think about. Also, like, really long and full of pining. Idk.

A Jedi does not pout. So it’s a good thing Porthos is still a padawan, and long sullen silences and brooding stares - while frowned upon - are considered natural behaviors among human adolescents. Learning opportunities, rather than personal failings. Master Treville is not particularly impressed by this way of thinking. Neither is he impressed with Porthos’ ability to meditate and release his feelings into the Force - at least not these feelings. His solution only worsens Porthos’ foul mood.

“The outer rim? For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t--” They rarely know, which is the only reason Porthos bites his tongue and redirects his glare down at his plate. He can’t help mumbling his displeasure to the pile of mashed potatoes. “They’re not even part of the Republic.”

“And yet they asked for our help, so we go. It’ll be good for you to get some distance from the chaos of Coruscant.” Treville’s gaze is heavy, as is the weight of his concern just at the edge of Porthos’ awareness. His Master is a serious man, a warrior-knight rather than a scholar, but Porthos knows by now to listen when he offers guidance. His Master has never led him wrong or left him to suffer without help. “And by the time we get back Aramis will have moved on from his latest infatuation.”

“Master.”

Treville snorts and shakes his head. “Do you think I am deaf and blind and cut off from the Force all at once, Porthos? You’ve been sulking since Aramis started chasing that Senate page, and his Master has been equally irritated with his increasingly ridiculous behavior.” The affectionate frustration he radiates in the Force only makes Porthos flush and look anywhere but at his Master’s knowing face. “Jealousy is unbecoming of a Jedi. Ah, do not lie to me by denying it. You’ve never been good at hiding your feelings, pup, not from me. You’ve been head over heels for that boy since he first took your hand in the creche. I thought you’d at least have the decency to do something about it by now.”

Porthos shoves his plate away, no longer hungry. What little he ate sits like a rock in his stomach. “A Jedi does not have attachments,” he responds flatly. But oh, he is attached. Attached in a way Aramis never has been, at least not to him. It’s not so bad watching him chase members of other genders, other species for meaningless flirtations and short flings - but watching him fall for a human boy? Porthos didn’t realize it would hurt so much to see that Aramis could love someone like him, without loving him.

“And yet here you are, attached to him, to Athos. And here I am, attached to you, and to my Master, and to my friends.” Treville spreads his hands in a universal gesture of helplessness. Thick, scarred fingers and calloused palms that Porthos has seen kill and coddle and hold the weight of the galaxy. The hands that picked him up at five years old and held him as Treville promised that he was not alone anymore, that there were others like him, and that he would be safe. The hands that have picked him up and dusted him off and put him back on his feet a thousand times since. “But I will do my duty to the Republic and the Order and above all the Force regardless of its impact on the ones I love. So will you, I hope. That is all the code requires of us - we may love, but only unselfishly.”

Porthos shifts uncomfortably under Treville’s hard gaze, finally making eye contact when his Master growls, “Look at me, Porthos. At the moment, you are being selfish. And stupid. And I won’t have either. That boy has been looking at you like you hung the stars for as long as I can remember, so either get your head out of your ass and do something about it before we leave for the other side of the galaxy or accept that you will never know what might have happened if you acted. Whichever you choose, do it out of my sight. You have two days to sort yourself out before our ship leaves.”

With that Treville pushes away from their small kitchen table, leaving Porthos with the dishes that they usually clean up together. He shoves them haphazardly in the washer and storms out of the apartment without any idea where he’s headed.

----

Without any conscious thought, Porthos’ feet lead him to the door of the apartment Aramis shares with Master An. He doesn’t even have time to raise his hand to knock before the door slides open and Aramis appears, only to stop short when he sees Porthos in the hall. Not answering because he sensed Porthos’ approach, then. Just a coincidence. Aramis’ smile is wide and pleased regardless.

“Porthos, what can I do for you my friend?”

“It’s, uh…” Porthos shifts awkwardly as he realizes that Aramis is dressed up, or as dressed up as a Jedi ever gets. His tunic and tabards have obviously been pressed and he’s wearing the blue cloak and sash that look so good against his skin tone. Clearly he’s going out to meet that boy. Again. “It’s nothing that can’t wait ‘til you get back.”

“No, no, I insist.” Aramis waves Porthos inside and directs him to the well-worn couch nearest the door, sinking down to sit opposite him on the edge of the low table. “I always have time for you. Now, tell me why you’re looking at me like...that.”

“No reason,” Porthos lies, badly. He’s never been good at it. Not in front of the people that matter, even though he can bluff his way through a sabacc game as well as any professional. “Just came to tell you Master Treville an’ I’ve been assigned to some backwater in the Outer Rim. Might be awhile before we’re home again.”

“Oh. Let me just...” Aramis frowns and immediately fishes his comm out of a hidden pocket, tapping out a message without ever looking away from Porthos. “There, canceled, now we can spend the evening together.”

“Don’t cancel your date on my account,” Porthos mumbles, looking at the floor guiltily as a small thrill of satisfaction bubbles in his chest.

“Dearest Porthos, I would cancel nearly anything on your account, especially when you’re about to leave me. Even drinks with a very beautiful man.”

There, the spike of jealousy Porthos has been wrestling with for two months rears its ugly head. He pushes it down violently - a very unJedi like response - and hopes Aramis doesn’t notice. Because he’s never that lucky, Aramis immediately leans into his space and fixes him with a concerned gaze.

“It’s not the mission that has you so upset. What is it?” Invading someone else’s mind without consent is a violation, especially among Jedi, but Aramis doesn’t have to go digging to discover what Porthos is feeling. They’ve shared a bond too long to hide the broad strokes of emotion from each other. “Is that,” Aramis’ eyes widen. Porthos looks away again. “Jealousy. But of what, or whom?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I truly don’t, unless you want me to go poking through your head to find out.”

“No. I…” Porthos hesitates. Forces himself to look up, to face Aramis and the confusing ball of emotion he causes head on. “I am jealous of your company. You must know, Aramis. I envy anyone who has the pleasure to be loved by you. I always have.”

“Oh.” Aramis lets out a heavy sigh and his face does something complicated. And then, worst of all, he laughs. Even in Porthos’ cruelest daydreams he hadn’t imagined Aramis would laugh in his face. “You stupid, wonderful man. Do you not realize that no matter who else there is, I will always love you best?”

“Not like that,” Porthos growls, already halfway to his feet. Maybe Master Treville would allow them to leave early for their mission to escape this mortification.

Aramis stands as well, blocking his path and seizing him by the shoulders. “Exactly like that, you idiot.”

And then, somehow, they’re kissing. It’s not the first time, but it feels very different than when Aramis had suggested the three of them practice on each other as they fumbled their way into adolescence together. Aramis knows what he’s doing now and by the time they separate Porthos is no less confused, but reluctant to let Aramis go. Instead they hover nose to nose, close enough that Aramis’ long eyelashes brush Porthos’ cheek.

“I will always love you best, Porthos,” he whispers. “I was simply too stupid to realize you felt the same. You do, don’t you?”

Porthos answers him with a kiss.

#the musketeers fanfic #star wars fanfic #porthos x aramis #treville #prompt fills #sorry i apparently can't write canon musketeers today #me and my jedi musketeers #my fic #gremlinbehaviour

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eremiss · 4 years

Text

24. Beam

Gwen hasn’t quite managed to work the mildly annoyed look off her face by the time she shoulders her way into Thancred’s apartment, arms full of groceries. Thancred is sitting at the kitchen table, disassembling his gunblade and laying the parts neatly on the towel spread out before him, cleaning and checking each one for damage along the way.

“Took you a bit,” he points out conversationally, staring intently at the frame as he scrubs it with a fine brush. “Have trouble finding everything?”

Gwen considers how to answer as she sets the bags on the counter and starts putting everything away. It wasn’t the merchants who’d been the problem, she’d acquired all the requested items and foodstuffs easily, it was… someone else. She has half a mind to make up some excuse and keep the truth, and the uncomfortable prickling in her chest, to herself and her journal, at least until she can get it sorted it out.

But… Well.

She has the distinct sense that trying to work this particular matter out herself will only get her so far, especially in her current mood. Between still being a bit irritated and only having one side of the story --if it could even be called that-- she’ll probably just wind up making herself more frustrated. Besides, they’re supposed to be working on the ‘open and honest’ thing, aren’t they?

“I was, ah, held up,” she admits, stooping to put away some dry goods.

“Oh?”

“Eidith was asking about you.” Gwen glances over her shoulder at him, looking for signs of recognition.

His expression draws slightly inwards in a mix of concentration and thought. After a moment he pauses his work to properly devote his focus towards conjuring up some image or association to match the name. A few seconds later he gives up and resumes his cleaning, curious but unconcerned, “Who?”

His confusion inspires a little pleased flicker in her thoughts. “Eidith, a h--ume woman who works in the Musica Universalis.”

Thancred shoots her a questioning glance, then returns his focus to his task. “Hm. Can’t say the name is ringing any bells.”

“You saved a merchant friend of hers a while back,” she says, returning to her chore.

“I’ve saved a lot of people,” he replies. “What did she want to know?”

Sourness curls tightly in her chest and on her tongue, making her frown. It feels a lot like irritation, but it’s not quite the same. “How you were doing, mostly. What you’ve been up to, and if you were going to come by the markets any time soon.” She can’t keep her mouth from twisting, her voice tightening with it, “And she asked a few rather direct questions about your, ah, availability.”

Thancred sighs like she’s just given him a particularly banal chore to complete rather than informed him of an admirer. One corner of his mouth curls with a wry smile and he chuckles, “She asked you, of all people? Excuse me whilst I revel in the irony.”

It figures he’d find it amusing and not think much more of it. Gwen would too, if it wasn’t quite so… uniquely, complexly irritating.

She stops putting away the groceries for a moment, trying to get a better hold of the prickly feeling that rears its ugly head whenever Eidith swoons over Thancred, or pesters her with uncomfortably forward questions about his interests and availability, or suspiciously side-eyes any woman he has even the most basic interactions with as if they’re encroaching on her territory. Even Ryne, for Twelve’s sake.

But not Gwen. She’s never given the impression that she considers Gwen to be ‘a threat’ in that way, nor expressed any concern about the fact Gwen and Thancred are friends. In fact, the latter is why Eidith pesters Gwen about him all the time. And that is… irritating in a way that kicks up a lot of grumbling, moody things inside her head.

It shouldn’t, she knows. That she and Thancred value their private lives being private and keep their relationship a secret, and thus can’t set the record straight, is no great loss. Words are wind, after all. They and their friends know the truth, and that’s all that matters. Besides, if Eidith were to ever act on her infatuation and approach him, Gwen doesn’t have so much as a sliver of doubt that Thancred would turn her down.

There’s also the affront that sparks at the fact that Eidith seems to think Gwen isn’t someone she needs to worry about or... or whatever her reasoning is behind not giving Gwen the same sort of look she’s given every other woman that’s spent more than two seconds in Thancred’s vicinity.

What, does she think he isn’t attracted to Gwen, or there’s no way he’d be interested in her? Oh is she wrong about that.

Gwen almost snorts to herself, conflicted about whether or not to enjoy the small burst of petty satisfaction.

But there’s more even beyond irritation and bruised pride, though. Something deeper that’s been growing slowly for a while, but has only just started to break the surface. She’s not sure how long it’s been there, as it was so quiet and unobtrusive she hadn’t paid it much thought before now, when she can’t help noticing.

Lately she’s had the occasional thought that it might be nice to have the option, maybe, to be less secretive and not be so careful in public. A bit of flexibility, as opposed to their current, rather rigid rules. Of course they’d still be private about most things, they wouldn’t be all over each other out in the open or anything like that, Twelve forefend. Just having the option to lean on one another when if they needed to, or just when the feeling struck, instead of always having to push it down, hold off and wait until they could hide away to so much as hold hands or hug. That wouldn’t be so bad, surely?

She’s coming to realize that sometimes their secrecy can be rather... draining. That maintaining their privacy and hiding her feelings from the wider world can be tiring on occasion, particularly when someone else is so open about their own. It makes an odd, uncomfortable dissonance in her head that’s difficult to ignore.

Normally other people expressing an interest in Thancred doesn’t bother her. If anything, she only starts getting annoyed when said expressions of interest are getting on his nerves. But sometimes, every now and then, it rubs her wrong. She still hasn’t been able to figure out why.

It’s… just complicated, is all. And irritating, like she’d said. Maybe now that she’s cleared her head a bit and taken more time to think about it, and gotten a bit of reassurance from Thancred both not knowing the woman and being utterly unaware of her infatuation, she’ll be able to make some headway writing about it. Hopefully that will be able to put the whole thing to rest.

Gwen begins to resume her chore but pauses when she senses eyes on her. She suddenly realizes how quiet it is. Not only has Thancred not said anything for a bit, it doesn’t sound like he’s working on his gunblade anymore.

She turns to check. He has indeed abandoned his task, instead staring at her with an odd look on his face. He doesn’t quite look puzzled, more like he’s not quite sure if he’s seeing things clearly.

Gwen cocks her head curiously.

He mirrors her, eyes narrowing slightly. A beat later his expression lifts with realization.

She tilts her head a little more, utterly lost.

He smirks and settles back in his chair, looking positively smug.

She recognizes that look, the look that says he knows something she doesn’t and he plans to nettle her with it. The look that says he’s figured out the solution to the riddle she’s been dropping hints for, even though she’s been doing nothing of the sort.

She frowns at him and folds her arms, regretting mentioning anything about Eidith at all.

He props an elbow on the table and leans his head on his fist, looking so shamelessly pleased with himself she almost wants to smack him.

“Guinevere,” he gasps, scandalized.

Her face scrunches like she took a bite of something bitter.

“Are you jealous?”

She goes rigid, equally surprised and affronted. “What? No.”

His smirk begins edging into a puckish grin, amusement lighting up his eyes.

Gwen works to fix her posture into something less moody and defensive, heat gathering in her face. She turns her nose up and turns sharply on her heel, “I’m not jealous.”

“Is that right,” he wheedles.

“I am not jealous,” she repeats firmly, delving into one of the grocery bags. “I’m just... I’m just a bit irritated.”

“Jealousy is an irritant, I’m told,” he says knowingly, chair scraping across the floor.

Gwen stiffens up again and presses her lips together, head full of abashed, staticky denial and exasperation.

Irritation is similar to jealousy, she can grant him that --but won’t, at least not aloud, because of that infuriating smugness. But it’s only that: similar.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” she replies matter-of-factly, pointedly starting on the last of the groceries. There really isn’t. Thancred doesn’t even know Eidith, for crying out loud. He didn’t recognize her name, and only cared to inquire about her because Gwen had gone and brought her up. There’s no reason for Gwen to be so bothered by the woman’s infatuation, and this is just proving that.

Which is good, isn’t it? That’s what she wanted.

Except for the part where she’s starting to feel rather silly and embarrassed about getting irritated at all, and letting it hang around and bother her for so long. Doubly so because she knows she’ll likely never hear the end of it now.

She senses a presence at her back a moment before Thancred plants his hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. “Indeed not,” he drawls, “Yet here you are.”

She pouts at his hands and folds her arms again, shoulders hiking up self-consciously.

He chuckles fondly and bumps her side with his elbow, trying to coax her into turning around.

After a few more nudges she finally concedes, turning to face him and leaning back against the counter with a moody pout.

He’s positively beaming, which is... not the worst thing to see, despite her embarrassment. Beneath all that smugness and teasing, mayhap he likes the idea of her getting a bit jealous over him.

He leans down a little, bringing himself to her eye level. His broad smile turns into a fond, thoroughly amused grin. “Worried she might whisk me away?” he teases. “That she’ll throw herself into my arms, profess her love, and I’ll have a sudden change of heart?”

Gwen can’t help laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea, shaking her head. Please…

“No? Not the slightest bit concerned you’ll wake in the night to find I’ve escaped out the window and eloped with this woman I’ve never met?”

She rolls her eyes, smiling despite herself. “Hardly.”

He leans in to nudge her nose with his, “Good. Naught to worry about, then.”

She lowers her chin, eyes falling half-closed as she inspects the toes of her boots, fully aware she’s made a whole lot of something out of a bit of nothing. “I know.” She shifts her weight, toes at the grout, and sighs. “I… It’s silly, I know. To be bothered by...” she gestures vaguely with her crossed arms.

“Maybe,” he agrees mildly, brushing his nose placatingly against hers again. “But it’s hardly unreasonable.” He offers an unconcerned shrug and a guilty half-smile, “I’d be a liar if I tried to claim I’ve never gotten a bit jealous, myself.”

True, he’s never been particularly thrilled about all the people vying for her attention, romantically and otherwise. There are a few in particular who are --were?-- sore spots for him in that regard. She can recall a few occasions when his amiable mood suddenly dropped into brooding, expression darkening into a scowl that lingered for bells after the fact.

Gwen hums and tilts her head forward to press their foreheads together, closing her eyes and savoring the simple connection. It’s a wonderful, reassuring feeling. “Sometimes I…” she pauses, second-guessing herself.

He hums a coaxing sound, tilting his head back just slightly then letting it drop forward to gently butt against hers.

She smiles a little wider, even as she wrinkles her nose. She unwinds her arms to curl her hands in his coat, worrying the fabric between her fingers. “Sometimes I… wish we weren’t quite so secretive,” she murmurs. “About us.”

He makes a considering sound, pondering the idea for a moment before leaning in to ghost his lips against hers, “What say we talk about it, then? Later, so I might give it a bit of thought first.”

Gwen hums an agreement, finding that sense of silliness shifting to something gentler and less sharp. The sort of thing she’ll look back on and laugh at herself about, rather than cringe and deny. Mayhap she would’ve reached the same resolution herself if she’d chosen to wait and speak about it all after the fact, but it would have taken longer and meant more time stewing in that irksome irritation.

She doesn’t need to worry about holding everything in and resolving matters herself before informing others about them, or even having her thoughts in order before sharing them.

There’s a familiar focus and heat beneath the look of satisfaction on his face, and the sight of it makes her heart flutter.

"In the meantime,” his voice melts into something low and promising, one hand pressing to the small of her back to draw her closer, “mayhap leaving a mark or two whilst I reaffirm my devotion would suffice?”

-----------------------

Beam - verb transmit (a radio signal or broadcast) in a specified direction. (of a light or light source) shine brightly. smile radiantly.

Gwen gets a liiiiittle jelly sometimes. Not often, but every now and then.

Eidith is SO FUCKIN’ THIRSTY OMG

Overall I like how it came out, but it was waaaaay more difficult to write than I expected @_@ particularly the end bit. This is one I’ll likely come back and spruce up a bit after I get some spoons back. Is pretty good, though! :D

#FFXIVWrite2020 #Guinevere Ashe #Thancred waters #Thancred x WoL #WoL x Thancred #My writing #HNG DOWN TO THE WIRE AGAIN #Gwen's a little jelly sometimes #Thancred thinks it's adorable #and kinda sweet #mostly because he knows she won't go crazy lol #he's had enough genuinely jealous lovers in the past that he's kinda over it #but Gwen is an exception #he def gets jelly too #but is (sorta) better at hiding it

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thenightlymartini · 4 years

Text

Headcannon #53

Topic: Jealousy (i.e. which one gets jealous more/major incident of jealousy in their relationship)

Inspired by one of @alfredtalia ‘s posts

Kimchiburger: America really doesn’t get jealous much. Like, he’ll pout if he doesn’t get a lot of attention or SK’s attention has to be pulled away from him for a bit, but that’s hardly jealousy. He knows he doesn’t own SK, and SK has every right to still hang out and talk to others other than him. It’s also not like he really has to feel jealous or guarded about other people trying to make a move on SK either. He trusts SK to be faithful and take care of himself.

The same cannot be said about SK, at least in the beginning. This majorly revolved around Japan, especially after the end of the occupation in 1945. Like, politically, SK does not like Japan or, at the very least, gets very cold. I also headcannon that SK suffers from self-confidence issues that stem back at least centuries if not millennia. SK views himself as not good enough or always a step behind the competition in Asia, and is the main reason why he really outdoes himself and is very social because he is trying to prove, mainly to himself, that he has potential and is good.

So with all that in mind, SK got extremely jealous about Japan and America’s friendship or any point where Japan is too close to America for his liking, even before him and America were even a couple. It constantly brought up his inner voice that brought him down that said he wasn’t good enough and he needed to do better. It even made him start believing that Japan and America even had a thing together (which was not true) which made him see Japan as competition, and to start to be skeptical about their actual friendship (like, how America can even still call Japan a friend after what he did at Pearl Harbor and having a war between them).

Even when they did become a couple, SK got jealous easily if America’s attention wasn’t on him, because it constantly caused him to think he was not good enough to keep the other’s attention.

Eventually, he did grow out of it, especially after confiding to America about it at one point because he had become so distraught with himself that he ended up spilling the beans about it. America didn’t judge him for it, though. In fact, it reminded him of himself with his own struggles with confidence and made him realize the main thing he loved about SK: he wears his heart on his sleeve and is human to a fault. Like, nations who live for awhile seem to have or gain a sense of apathy for what they are due to living history for so long. Yet, SK still holds onto this energy of youth and spirit despite all of the horrible things he has done or witnessed. He doesn’t forget that he is a human, faults and all.

Rusnk: Oh boy. These two.

Russia gets sort of jealous every once in a while, but not often and not quite like a lot of early or some fans would portray as. Like, in a way, he is possessive, but not overbearingly or creepily so like in many fanfictions. I think it’s because he doesn’t quite know what a healthy relationship is supposed to be cause he lacked a lot of examples of one. And I think NK would have kicked some sort of sense into him about that because NK had to deal with a lot of possessive countries in his life and just got out of a really bad, oppressive, occupation with Japan and would not tolerate someone possessive at all in a relationship. He’s his own man, thank you very much. So, if he did get jealous, it would be a once in a blue moon event that really doesn’t hold much weight cause he knows NK as a person is loyal to a fault.

NK kind of gets jealous quite a bit. Mostly because he likes attention due to not really getting enough of it, and he doesn’t like to share. Like he won’t get mean about it, he’s pretty reserved about expressing it until he hits his limit (like he will try to hide his pouting and act like he’s not at all jealous). It’s more like bile rises in his throat and he gets impulses to “mark his territory” in a way, since he sort of suffers a bit from an inferiority complex, but there’s always his common sense voice that holds him back like, “you know who he’s going to go to bed with at the end of the day” or “you’re being irrational again. You know Ivan would not do you dirty like that.”

Commieburger: Again, America is not a jealous type. If there’s one thing he would get jealous about is that he, as NK’s significant other, can’t spend time with NK that easily. Like, a perk of dating the world’s pariah, as dark as it may seem, is that not a lot of people will be trying to make moves on NK. The downside of that perk is that it is extremely hard for him to spend any time with NK. Like normal couples can easily walk up to each other and be lovey dovey or show affection in public, but they can’t due to so many factors. That’s why with any country that is on decent terms with NK he gets sort of jealous because he’s like “you have no idea how great you have it right now, dude. I’m dating him and I can’t even go up and greet him without the rumor mill starting up and risking exposing our relationship when we can’t afford to do that.” It’s partially why he showers NK with so much affection when they are together because he feels he needs to make up for when he couldn’t. Both of them understand that this was expected when they began this relationship, so it’s a more passive jealousy.

NK... oh boy. Like, with RusNK, he isn’t as jealous cause it’s not a secret relationship and it’s not as awkward of a relationship. With America, you bet his jealousy rears its head so much. He has the same issue as America in that, even if he actually wanted to, he couldn’t show America any affection due to the nature of their relationship and politics. Only with NK, he sees everyone but himself able to walk up and chat with America, and it pisses him off deep down. Especially when it’s SK, cause it feels like a tease to him, like this is what he and America could have looked like but it’s not possible. He and America both knew what they were getting themselves into when they decided to go out, but that doesn’t lessen the sting. It’s due to his pride and stubbornness alone that he still acts a little hard to get even when it is just America and himself, but he secretly loves the attention he gets when it is just the two of them. It’s a big reason why the both of them get a little rough with each other with affection of intimate time. They both end up craving what they can’t have for so long that it kind of implodes.

His jealousy also really rears its ugly head when, if America and him are alone, America pays attention to something other than him that could easily be put off. Like, he gets that if it is important, he knows that should be the priority; he would expect no less if the situation was reversed. But if it’s something that can easily be done another day? Yikes, he gets jealous real quick. He won’t even hesitate to express it, mostly in anger or sarcasm, because it’s his way of telling America that he’s beginning to doubt their relationship, like “you say you love me and want me, but you keep putting me aside and doing the exact opposite of what you say.” Both of them understand this is not the healthiest of ways to express or communicate, but they’ll take what they can get with how they develop as people in each other’s eyes and as their relationship progresses.

I remember an old fanfiction I read where it went into the jealousy aspect between Japan and South Korea and thought “you know, how would these pairings deal with jealousy?”

A big issue I have, and wanted to address, is how fans portray America, Russia and jealousy. Like most of what I see is almost a forced fantasy of America getting possessive, and seems really stereotypical of the possessive seme trope that I’m really starting to not like after really understanding same sex relationships. Russia and stories relating to him being jealous tends to fall under similar issues as America, only they use it as a plot device to make him creepy or the villain which I really am getting sick of seeing.

I also took it as an opportunity to really look into both Koreas and see how they personally deal with jealousy as well as looking at history and getting at least a decent idea of how they possibly would act. (Also @alfredtalia ‘s post that was linked in the beginning gave me solid enough information on Sang-Kyu’s personality portrayal that I felt comfortable enough to try exploring this.)

#hetalia #aph america #aph russia #aph south korea #aph north korea #kimchiburger #rusnk #commieburger #headcannon #ships #slight rant near end

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love-minor-poltergeist · 4 years

Note

Any hcs for a jealous Cagney? I just LOVE the relationship hcs you did for him btw💕

A/N: HHh anon I’m so sorry for taking so long to get this out; Stuff happened and so it was a bit hard for me to get off my unmotivated ass to do this.

I hope this is the worth the wait! ;v;

(Note: Read more added due to lengthiness)

Jealous Cagney:

From first glance, it was easy to tell that Cagney was a bit of a tough shell to open up. Reclusive and with a hair-trigger temper, it was a complete surprise to a lot of people- even Cagney himself- that he found someone who was so accepting of every single side of him.

Cagney isn’t blind to how he is, either. He’s fully aware that he comes off as a bit of a dick to most, and the fact that hardly anyone knows about his personal life (not that Cagney even shares a hint of it) makes it a bit harder for them to like him.

In short, Cagney knows he isn’t the easiest person to be around. Neither is he the most emotionally open. The fact that not only were you able to join the very small circle of friends he has, but also worm your way into his heart AND requite his feelings? He’s nothing but grateful he met you.

Needless to say, Cagney isn’t exactly the type to become overtly-possessive or even aggressive when he’s jealous. In fact, he’s more so the type to become broody and not share how he’s feeling; figuring that you’d be happier if he doesn’t get in the way.

Jealousy would rear its ugly head about a few months into your relationship when you get a formal introduction to some of the other inhabitants of Inkwell Isle 1’s forests. As luck may have it, it turns out that Cagney had a rather large extended family.

“It’s one of the perks of being a flower,” Cagney would explain with a sour look on his face. “One minute you’re enjoying some peace and quiet, and next thing you know you have a new cousin getting on your goddamn nerves.”

Do you recall seeing any other flower men wandering around the island here and then? (think the flower enemies from the first run and gun stage) Well, it turns out most of them are actually Cagney’s cousins.

You first met them during a date with your boyfriend. It was a relatively slow, quiet evening, but it didn’t bother you in the slightest. Cagney was pruning away at the large tree in his garden while whistling a low tune, and there wasn’t a scowl in sight on his face. Your boyfriend always felt so tense around other people, and so the fact that he could just relax around you was enough; even if you were just a tiny bit bored just lounging around in the garden.

Then, as if some deity decided to play some sick, twisted joke on Cagney, they showed up. Cagney felt his metaphorical heart drop, the shears dropping from his hands as the loud, obnoxious chorus calling his name rang out across the field.

In almost an instant, your vision is filled with yellow and orange, and three pairs of curious eyes stare down at you. The middlemost flower then grins a wide, cheshire-cat smile.

“Cagney’s got a date!”

God above, please smite him now.

Before Cagney could even have a chance to even chase off his annoying cousins, they already surrounded you and started probing you with a bunch of questions. It wasn’t until they brought up an embarrassing story involving a watering can and your boyfriend that Cagney heard you begin to bust out in laughter. He looked over towards you, and he feels his chest grow heavier. You looked like you were having a lot of fun with them.

Soon enough, Cagney’s mind begins to dip past whatever reasonable side he had into a more doubtful, paranoid place; would you be happier dating other people? Was he just a boring partner?

The Carnation is mostly silent for the rest of the date, only giving brief grunts or non-committal hums whenever you tried to include him in the conversation; he even goes as far as to avoid looking over in your direction. It’s enough to form a sinking feeling in your stomach.

When his cousins do finally leave, the air is heavy with an unspoken tension. Cagney’s back was towards you. Though it was partially hard to see, you could make out a faint tremble in his hands.

Expect him to avoid talking to you afterward- not because he’s angry at you, but because he feels he isn’t good enough. Don’t be too shocked if the two of you argue because of it; and be sure to be ready to leave angry and upset.

As unpleasant as it is, the two of you go the rest of the day without talking to each other. Cagney would need some time to cool off before he’s ready to even acknowledge what happened.

Speaking of which, once you do confront him about what happened on your failed date, he’s going to try and skirt around the subject-- He doesn’t like dwelling on those thoughts of self doubt, and he feels like you’d leave him because of it.

When Cagney does finally cave into your incessant probing, he’s avoiding your gaze. In a low, quiet voice, he would reluctantly confess of his insecurities as a boyfriend.

The moment he finally voices his doubts, you’ll have to reassure him. As gruff and brutish Cagney can be, he has his weaknesses and own self-confidence issues like everyone else.

Usually, the most effective way to comfort your giant flower boyfriend is to just listen to him; and if he moves his hand towards you, please hold it as tight as you can.

He doesn’t go as far as to cry, but his petals would slowly droop the moment you do. Large, leafy fingers curl around your own, and the two of you sit in a heavy, yet comforting silence.

Though this might not be the last time this would happen, at least the two of you have a better way of dealing with it; and you’re extra certain to make sure to show that you Cagney regardless- grouchiness and all

#requests #my writing #Cuphead #cuphead dont deal with the devil #cuphead headcanons #cuphead reader inserts #gender-neutral reader #cagney carnation #cagney carnation x reader #headcanon

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 4 years

Text

The Bipolarity That Is My Current Emotional State

This is solely for me. Read or don’t. But I need an outlet...

Some days I really do wonder if what I feel is real and genuine, or if I am settling because being around him is both familiar and new. Sometimes I don’t trust myself or anything I think... or feel... because I don’t trust ME. I have maybe three people in the world (besides my kids) that I know, for 100% certainty would never lie or lead me astray.

The feelings of jealousy and doubt that fill me currently are ugly and unnecessary; yet... here they are. Its old insecurities rearing their heads and telling me that I am once again being played. This man... he’s a good man. Has a huge heart, and when he vows to be there for someone, he means it. This is currently happening where he is helping a mutual friend.... but he spends more time with this person than me. And while I understand the circumstances, I am still getting extremely jealous of it. I feel as if their friendship runs deeper than my romantic relationship with him at this moment. Whispers from the depths of my mind tease me with false imagery when my logical brain knows the truth of the matter. Yet somehow... I can’t completely let my guard down.

To be clear, I don’t fear him wanting to be with this other person, that has been discussed at length and that is the one thing I do actually trust... BUT I have things in my own life (not to her level of chaos) that I am dealing with and it would be nice for him to sit and listen to me once in a while like he does for her, and be that caring, sympathetic friend to me. But he is so focused on helping her .... not putting his own life back together or building a life with me.

Though I stay the course and work on this life lesson teaching me further ways to be patient, for ONE GOD DAMNED TIME IN MY LIFE I WANT TO BE SOMEONE’S MAIN FOCUS. Selfish? Maybe. But I know what I want and I am tired of feeling like shit about it.

I have a huge transition coming. Not just of a mental/emotional nature, but a physical one. I need to leave my current home and find someplace new. This all happens on the heels of a discussion with the man in my life about picking up and starting over somewhere new, together.

You want to talk about signs from the Universe? Well, if that isn’t one, I don’t know what is. But here is where I start this self destructive phase... I am scared to death of trusting this man to take my children and I along with him to reboot our lives together.

I know there is hesitation on both sides, and I know our feelings are mutual, but are we both so truly damaged that we can’t completely trust? If we can’t do that, how can we pick up and move across the country together?

Issue Two... my ex. Having to have the discussion of ---- yes I realize that we have not yet even signed the divorce papers but I want to take our children and move to a new state with this man I’ve been dating since January. Yeah... he won’t have a problem with that at all. YET... for the 20 years we were together, I feel like I have always deferred to him and almost needed to ask his permission to do anything. Don’t I have the right to say I want to start over with someone new... in a place that doesn’t have your imprint all over it... am I NOT entitled to that?

Issue Three... my kids. They aren’t bad kids. But we do have some issues and before the Rona locked down the world, I was looking for a family therapist to help us all. Being a single parent to 3 kids is the most challenging thing I have ever attempted in my life. The idea of moving out of state AGAIN with three kids, all by myself... AGAIN, makes me sick to my stomach. But I don’t have a choice. Staying where I am is not a viable option for several reasons... but how does one know they are picking the right location to settle in? Its not like I have a permanent partner to help me make this choice. The guy I am with won’t “Commit” to anything “real” until we both have our shit together. Another thing that makes my guard stand higher.... Do you mean it when you say you want to be with me and give my kids a real man to be in their lives? OR is this all just a lead on?

God I hate me. I hate my brain and the way I mistrust everyone and everything. I love this man... a lot. I want to be with him and have a future with him. And while my gut tells me he is sincere when he says he wants the same... I can’t help but wonder how long before he leaves me too?

#personal post #personal thoughts #tw: anxiety

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gggno · 4 years

Text

@tiderider said: " i heard about what happened... " / uma

ursula is a master of words, and uma is her closest victim.

what kind of parent does that to their child? uma finds this question too applicable on the isle, and she is no exception.

the sea witch is known for her irresistible deals and silver tongue. the linguistic crafts involved in her well-spun traps are textbook material, as flawless as they are cruel. being her daughter, uma bears the brunt of it all. none of uma friends are free from ursula’s slander – from mean jokes to harsh attacks, ursula treats this like a hobby.

it doesn’t matter if she calls out on her bullshit. once ursula has spoken her piece, the seed is sowed. so uma swallows it all, helpless and reluctant, the lies, the poison, the needles of manipulation. they leave marks in her throat and take root, growing day after day, until insecurity sprouts and jealousy rears its ugly head.

despite her habit to pick up her friend’s troubles, she barely acknowledges her damage – the details are thorned and aimed, rendering them impossible to share. she cannot bear hurting her friends. ( she wouldn’t live if one of them replied, “ you don’t trust me? ” ) when it comes to her mother, she is truly alone.

this day, she lashes out. she screams, unleashing a siren’s screech that curses everyone in range, so anguished and powerful even the great ursula is stunned. with a scene like that, of course the word will spread.

seeing harry, she is equally impressed and conflicted. every time one of them feels bad and hides, the other seems to know where to look; his face, however, only reminds her of ursula’s words at the moment.

you think you’re so special, don’t you? just because that hook boy looks at you like that? HA! don’t be STUPID!

eyes close to shut out the her mother’s voice, her jaw clenches so hard it hurts under the ears. there is no reason for her to question harry’s loyalty. there’s no reason for her to be upset. but she is. who is to say things will never change?

harry sits down next to her, and she pulls her legs closer against her chest, shrinking into herself. how is she supposed to explain this to him? that she is in fact a jealous bitch territorial of him? the thought alone is sickening. others may assume this captain and first mate bond is but a child’s game; to uma, it is a vow. a promise.

and it’s more than that. ursula and the isle swore love wasn’t real, but she wants it to be. she wants this to be real. she wants it desperately, selfishly, irrationally. she wants them to become another sacred secret they never tell, a story for only them to share in looks and bring to the grave.

losing him would be hard to get used to, and she isn’t about to practice.

harry nudges her lightly. he’s there for her, like he’s always been. it takes her a while to replace apprehension with his presence, to pull her mind out of the dark place crafted for her by nobody else but her own mother. harry is here, harry is here, harry is here.

you and i, we’re irreplaceable, right?

but a question like this reveals too much. she cannot admit this. if harry finds someone else in his heart one day, uma wants him to remember one thing. this one, irrefutable fact.

“ what’s my name? ”

#tiderider #ha thanks for this song papi im in pain #' please don't make me go / but if you do please do it slow '#interaction / tiderider: HARRY.#the only reassurance she asks from him is her name #one day she is gonna tear the shop apart bc of ursula saying shit i swear #and it would be followed by emotional yelling #STOP SAYING THAT STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT MY FRIENDS THEY'RE NOT GOING TO BETRAY ME #mental abuse tw #gaslighting tw #uma vc: admit that i care so much i get ugly jealous and insecure? no thanks #uma vc: but lashing out unreasonably will be a thing just a headsup #she is sorry i swear she is #when i said imma let my women have ugly feelings i mean this

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admiralty-xfd · 5 years

Text

Culmination

This is Chapter 4. To start at the beginning go here.

DEMARCATION I

(The End)

SCULLY

Diana Fowley.

Even the sound of her name feels disgusting in her mouth.

Scully is not an idiot. She knows where these feelings are coming from. She’s always been territorial of Mulder, whether she’s willing to admit it or not. The thought of him having had any kind of personal, romantic relationship with some other woman feels foreign to her. It’s a side of him she rarely has to see or even think about.

Phoebe Green leaps to her mind, the only other woman she’s ever had to imagine linked romantically to Fox Mulder, her Fox Mulder. At the time it felt nonsensical for her to imagine that kind of claim over him. They’d been through a lot together even then, but it was silly to think of him that way. They weren’t dating. They weren’t having sex. They weren’t anything other than friends, work partners. She convinced herself she was being ridiculous and pushed those feelings aside. After a few days Phoebe Green was gone, out of both of their lives, and Scully’s thoughts rarely drifted there again.

But there’s something new lurking deep inside her now. This time, it feels different. Her stomach is full of knots and she feels ill. She’s terrified of the feelings this other woman has stirred inside her. Diana Fowley has had Mulder in a way that feels deeply personal: they discovered the X Files together. When the Lone Gunmen informed her of this, it was like a punch to the gut. The quest Scully and Mulder are on had actually begun with this other woman and it feels almost like a betrayal.

Why hasn’t Mulder ever mentioned her before? Had they been as close as she is with him? Has he shared things with her that he hasn’t shared with Scully? What was their partnership like?

Scully isn’t typically a jealous person, but something about Diana Fowley brings it out in her. And this jealousy is forcing her to confront the feelings she has for Mulder more intensely. She isn’t in any way ready to deal with this right now.

The Gunmen hadn’t elaborated much, and she hadn’t really wanted them to. It was embarrassing enough having to go to them in the first place about this. She couldn’t ask Mulder because she felt she knew the answer and didn’t want to hear him say it. But the Gunmen had said enough for her to know what she needed to know about the exact nature of this past relationship; this past relationship that has exploded into their present. This past relationship that is threatening their future. She isn’t sure how real the threat is at the moment but she doesn’t want to find out.

The jealousy, however, is real. She doesn’t recognize herself. It’s not like her to be thinking these things. Things like:

Diana Fowley probably buys everything Mulder sells to her. She probably subscribes to every theory, agrees with every notion.

And:

I’ll bet he likes that. I’ll bet he eats that up. It’s been a while.

Also:

She calls him “Fox.” And he lets her. Ugh.

“You really don’t like her, do you? That other girl.”

The small voice comes from the other side of the motel room and it’s a statement, not a question. It startles her. Scully has been so deep in thought she’d forgotten she’s in a room with a mind reader. She doesn’t want to believe it’s even possible Gibson Praise can read minds but she knows he can. How else could this little boy know what she’s thinking, how she’s feeling?

She sighs. “I guess I can’t lie to you, can I, Gibson?”

“She doesn’t like you, either.”

Scully doesn’t need a mind-reader to tell her this.

“I know, you probably don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Hey, Gibson? Any way I can ask you to cut that out for a bit?”

He shakes his head no. “I’m sorry, Agent Scully, I really would if I could. Believe me.” He turns his attention back to the television and she considers letting it go, but something makes her keep talking.

“This is all very personal, and complicated, and… grown up. I know you’re a very smart kid, but you are still a kid.”

He rolls his eyes. “I may be a kid, but I’ve seen enough ‘Friends’ to know what’s going on with you three.”

They sit in silence. Well, what’s silence to Scully. To Gibson, everything must be louder than life. The elephant in the room is large and in charge, and now that it’s been mentioned it’s nearly impossible for her to think about anything else.

She wonders if Gibson has taught himself how to do this, like a fisherman, extracting whatever thoughts he’s interested in like some special kind of magnet. Or perhaps he’s not interested in any of this at all, and her feeble excuse for a love life is just another television channel he can’t shut off.

“You like ‘Friends?’” She desperately tries to change the subject, put something in her mind other than thoughts that will make both of them uncomfortable.

“Yeah, it’s pretty funny.” He sounds companionable enough but he won’t face her, still looking straight ahead at the TV. She wonders if this is a tactic he uses to shut out unwanted thoughts. Maybe he can’t hear her anymore.

Which is your favorite Friend?

“Chandler probably,” he replies to the question she didn’t ask, without missing a beat. Well, so much for that.

She smiles and thinks of Emily for a brief moment. This kid reminds Scully a little bit of her. A smart, sweet kid with an entire potential future ahead of him but no one looking out for his best interests. She wonders yet again about the inherent cruelty of the world, and why some kids are subjected to it in such a way.

“You have a kid?” His voice brings her out of her dark thoughts and for the first time she’s grateful for it.

“I… did. She died though, a few months ago. I don’t really like talking about it.”

He looks truly sorry. “I’m sorry. If I’m not looking at you, it can be hard for me to tell when people are just thinking and when they’re actually talking. Especially when they say what they mean. That doesn’t happen very much.”

She smiles, finding this all so fascinating. This child is so amazing. There’s so much to be learned from him.

Her thoughts soon uncontrollably wander back to Mulder and Diana Fowley. They should be back here by now. They’re certainly together somewhere.

The jealousy rears its ugly head again. She can’t help but wonder what they’re doing, if she’s got her claws back in him yet. Maybe he’s kissing her. Maybe they’re having sex.

Stop it, stop. STOP THINKING ABOUT THINGS.

“You know, Agent Mulder really likes you a lot,” Gibson offers out of nowhere, startling her out of her uncomfortable reverie.

“Thank you, Gibson,” she says in a voice that clearly tells him that’s enough.

She does still have a job to do. She’s responsible for protecting him. She knows how important he is; probably the most important discovery she’s ever made. She can’t help but marvel that in spite of everything the poor kid is dealing with, he’s still trying to be sweet to her.

This is so embarrassing, she thinks. And Gibson knows she’s embarrassed. He knows everything. He’s just a kid. What if he’s reading other thoughts? Very private thoughts involving her and Mulder without dumb old Diana Fowley. Or even fantasies about what he looks like underneath his suits and oh god stop this, please don’t think of something inappropriate, don’t don’t don’t

“Agent Scully?”

“...Yeah?”

“I’m going to the bathroom.” He gets up and walks out of her view.

Thanks, Gibson.

The bathroom door closes and she can only hope she’s alone again. She finds it peculiar that it isn’t until you’re having your every thought read by another person you realize how precious your own thoughts are to you.

Agent Mulder really likes you a lot.

Well, of course he does. They’re good friends. Gibson, with all his abilities, can’t understand the nuances of an adult relationship, especially one as complicated as theirs. For God’s sake, even she doesn’t understand the nuances of their relationship.

Whatever she may be telling herself not to feel, she and Mulder are both young, attractive people and they’re human. It hasn’t been easy to maintain professional boundaries, but she feels like they’ve had to. Their work is too important, and taking such a step would be a huge risk. There really is no other reason they haven’t crossed that line, even hastily, recklessly. God knows she’s wanted to.

She suddenly feels a strange sadness, almost like a loss, because obviously Mulder had taken that extra step with Diana Fowley. Knowing Fox Mulder would in fact go there with his partner has made her rethink a lot of things. First of all, no wonder she hears so many rumors circulating all the time about herself and Mulder. Secondly, if the failure of his relationship with his ex is the real reason he hasn’t taken that step with her, then Diana Fowley has robbed her of that as well. And here she is again, and she has some kind of inexplicable hold on him. A kind of hold Scully doesn’t.

She refuses to be some kind of third wheel in her own partnership. She doesn’t know how long she can hang around waiting for Diana Fowley to just go away. As possessive as she feels over Mulder, she has no real claim over him. Diana Fowley doesn’t either, though. In the end it’s going to be up to Mulder. He’s going to have to make a choice between the two of them: who he can really trust.

All she can do is hope he makes the right one.

She hears the toilet flush, the sink running, and Gibson re-enters the room. Grateful for his reprieve, she tries to focus her mind on something else as he picks up the remote and starts changing channels.

MULDER

He can’t move. He can barely think. His entire life’s work is gone, all of it gone.

In the midst of the of ash and smoke, he can almost smell along with it his own blood, sweat and tears. And Scully’s. And all the victims whose cases, already buried deep in the basement with the only two people who cared, will now certainly never see any explanation or justice.

He stands there motionless for a good minute before he is even aware Scully is holding onto him, her hand on his bicep, her cheek pressed into his chest. Neither of them can speak, there is nothing to say. He knows she feels the loss, too, though it’s possible she feels it more acutely through his own pain.

This is how they survive, the two of them. This is how they carry on. Pain seeping out of one, into the other. Their burdens shared, their losses perceived by each other.

It isn’t a death, but it may as well be. The intensity of his grief and frustration becomes enough to pull him out of his trancelike state and he looks down at Scully. He wraps his arms around her and they stand there together, surrounded by firefighters and curious onlookers and the red and blue lights from the emergency vehicles outside streaming through the smoke into their charred office like some vaporous American flag.

How ironic, this institution of justice and hope and truth reduced to ashes.

The firefighters are slowly exiting, one by one. AD Skinner comes over to the two of them and rests a hand on Mulder’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he offers, glancing to Scully as well. Mulder believes he is. Skinner is probably the only other person in the building who truly understands how devastating this is to them.

“Let’s go, Mulder,” Scully says. “There’s nothing else to be done here.”

He nods and takes her hand, following her out of the office like a zombie. His mind races. Everything truly feels over now. He’d been too arrogant, too reckless in approaching the Attorney General about Gibson Praise. Gibson had disappeared and the only remaining witness, his attempted assassin, had been murdered. The cleanup that had taken place was swift and effective, executed according to plan. It became the perfect opportunity for the Justice Department to take a shot at him and Scully, at the X Files. He should have seen it all coming. He feels like a fool.

The fire was an obvious cover up if ever he saw one. He’s momentarily annoyed at its localization; how the arsonist made no effort to hide the fact that the X Files themselves were the target. Mulder knows more than anyone his work has been in danger for years, but they could have at least pretended it wasn’t such a clear cut attack against him. The hubris of that angers him even more.

Lost in his own thoughts he hasn’t realized Scully has driven him home. “Mulder.” She’s trying to get his attention. He feels dazed.

“Yeah.”

“We’re at your apartment.”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you want me to stay for a bit? Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m good. I’m okay.” He’s still just sitting there in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead.

“Are you… going to get out?”

“Out of what?”

She sighs, unbuckles her seat belt. “Come on, I’m taking you upstairs. You’re a mess.”

He somehow finds the presence of mind to open his car door and get out. He’s glad he didn’t have to ask her to stay, but he wants her there all the same.

He’s still walking slowly and distractedly behind her, so she uses her own key to let them inside. He heads straight to the couch and falls down over the armrest, face first, his feet dangling over the edge behind him. He hears Scully go into his kitchen and she returns with two beers. She pops off the caps and plops down next to his head, kicking her legs up onto his coffee table. She sighs deeply.

“What are we gonna do, Scully?”

She takes a sip of her beer and sets it on the table. “I don’t know, Mulder. We start again. We just start again.”

“There’s a zero percent chance they’ll keep the X Files open now. This fire was the final nail on the coffin. Nothing we say will change their minds.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Do you think it’s possible someone at the Bureau did this? I mean, they’ve been trying and failing to shut us down for years. Maybe someone finally just snapped.”

“I think so.”

“Who do you think did it?”

“Spender,” he says instantly. “No doubt in my mind it was that little fucker. I should have taken his threats more seriously.” He can’t stand the guy. Going around the Bureau, kissing everyone’s asses, covering his own to protect his reputation.

Working with the cancer man.

“I don’t know, Mulder,” she muses. “Arson? It honestly seems like he doesn’t have it in him.”

He thinks for a second, and realizes she’s probably right. He’s usually good at this profiling stuff, obviously, but his annoyance and frustration with Jeffrey “Weasel” Spender has gotten too personal.

“You’re probably right.”

“We should tell the arson investigators to keep their eyes peeled for cigarette butts, though,” she suggests. She rubs his back for a moment then taps his neck, indicating he should lift his head up. He flips onto his back and scoots over a bit, resting his head in her lap. She runs her fingers through his hair with one hand, her other hand across his chest and they sit together comfortably.

“I’m still in this with you, Mulder. This is a temporary setback, okay? We have to have faith that we will continue our work.”

Mulder thinks back to another time, an even darker time about a year ago, here in his apartment, alone. A time when his faith had also been tested. A time when Scully was edging towards death, all because of him and this work.

He’d felt so alone that night, so aggrieved, so desperately responsible for what had happened to her. He’d really wanted to die. He thought he deserved it. Everything felt meaningless. He believes to this day if that DoD agent hadn’t been spying on him and revealed himself that night, he would have pulled the trigger.

He almost can’t breathe when he thinks about what would have happened if he’d given up in that moment. Scully would have died. They both would be dead, and so would their quest.

Tonight feels different because she is here with him. He could be alone right now, feeling desperate and directionless and miserable by himself. But she chose to stay. His life isn’t so lonely anymore, and for the first time he truly appreciates that fact.

He takes her hand with both of his, holding it across his chest and lays there, her other hand absently stroking his hair, listening only to their own breaths, rising and falling in sync.

“As long as I’ve still got you, it’ll be fine,” he decides. He truly believes this.

DEMARCATION II

(Fight the Future)

SCULLY

Scully’s meeting with the Office of Professional Review had not gone well. Being forced to take a step back after getting so close to something big has become her lot in life.

AD Cassidy had not been impressed with the evidence she and Mulder had brought back from Dallas. Scully had trouble explaining its significance to a room full of directors in a way they could understand and be excited about in the same way she and Mulder could. Now they don’t have the means or permission to follow up, and with the trouble they’re in, they aren’t likely to get it.

Now, not only have they removed her as Mulder’s partner, they’re trying to remove her from his life entirely. They’re sending her clear across the country to another field office with little choice in the matter. She’s amazed at their ability to do so with a single pen stroke.

Her only other option would be to quit. Either way she loses him.

They’ll do what they can, she knows it. They will move forward, in whatever way they can. They always do.

She presses the elevator button and waits. The doors open and she’s greeted by a face she’d secretly hoped she would never have to see again.

Diana fucking Fowley.

She briefly considers waiting for the next elevator, but that kind of avoidance is beneath her, childish. She purses her lips together and steps in, pressing the ground floor button. “Agent Fowley,” she says politely. “Nice to see you’re back at work.”

“Thank you, it’s good to be back.”

She can feel Fowley’s eyes upon her, and instantly regrets not stopping in the bathroom to tidy herself up. She hasn’t even showered since they got back to DC and she looks like shit. Her appearance isn’t typically something that concerns her too much, and she hates feeling this way. She hates feeling inferior to the always well put together Diana Fowley.

Scully prays the elevator stops at another floor for another passenger to end this awkwardness but God isn’t listening today.

“How’s Agent Mulder?” Fowley asks.

Scully pauses, not sure what her angle is. “He’s fine.”

“I heard through the grapevine you two are getting reassigned. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Scully is silent, not knowing what to say. I’m sure you are.

“It’s probably for the best. From what he indicated, you two haven’t been seeing much progress.”

Scully bites her tongue and stares at the doors.

Open, open, open. Please.

Apparently, Diana Fowley isn’t fucking finished. “But it must be hard, disagreeing all the time. You both must feel such a relief to be free of that. To not feel… so held back.”

She can’t continue with the silent treatment, she doesn’t want to appear impertinent. “We make it work.” Scully speaks in the present tense because Mulder is her partner, regardless of what OPR or Diana Fowley has to say about it.

Fowley scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ve got it all figured out. His passion, his drive. His mission. It’s all wonderful until you realize it’s not aligned with your own.”

She starts to feel sick, and wonders why the elevator ride never feels this long on any other day.

“Just be grateful it never went further than a work partnership. He’s tough to shake.”

Scully feels like she might actually throw up. How the hell does she know how far their relationship has gone? Every word is a dagger.

Mercifully, the elevator dings and the doors open.

“Goodbye, Agent Fowley,” Scully grits as she exits the elevator and heads through the lobby as quickly as reasonably possible towards the sweet relief of the sidewalk. She pushes the heavy door open and takes a deep breath.

She doesn’t care which direction she walks, she just has to get away from this building. Mulder had dropped her off directly from the airport and she’d planned to take a cab back to his place after the meeting, but now she doesn’t know what to do or where she should go.

How can one woman put her so off balance? Make her feel so small, so worthless? How can the words of someone she barely knows bring her down like this?

She’s suddenly questioning everything, everything she knows and trusts about Mulder, everything about their partnership, and for what? Why? Because of one woman who has had him in a way she never will.

Why did she have to take that elevator? She felt fine before she ran into her. She’d felt hopeful that something good might still come of all this.

You both must feel such relief to be free of that. Not… so held back.

Why did she say that? Had Mulder said something like that to her? It makes her ill to think they’d talked about her behind her back. What if she really is just an annoyance to him, in spite of everything he’s said? She knows he cares about her as a friend, and she’s never going to question that. But is he humoring her about their partnership? Do they even have a real partnership if he’s not being honest with her about her role within it?

She can’t change who she is to better suit his needs. She can’t become someone she isn’t, even for him. She feels inadequate, and completely powerless. Maybe it’s just her own fear and self doubt, but she’s inclined to believe what Diana Fowley is saying.

Of course he would feel that way. She’s been so stupid.

His passion, his drive. His mission. It’s all wonderful until you realize it’s not aligned with your own.

It’s taken her awhile to realize it but she knows she is passionate about this work. Maybe not for the same reasons as Mulder, but their goal is the same: uncovering the truth. What were Diana Fowley’s goals? What had she wanted that Mulder hadn’t wanted? What caused their breakup?

He’s tough to shake.

If she wasn’t sure before that Diana Fowley had ulterior motives regarding Mulder, she’s sure now. She wants to kick herself for not telling him how she felt before this woman came back into his life. It pains her to think that she might know Mulder even better than Scully does.

She knows what she has to do now. She slowly turns around and heads back towards the Hoover building for what she now knows will be one of the last times.

He’ll probably be secretly glad to be rid of her. She’s done nothing but hold him back.

MULDER

They’re splitting us up.

He knows it must be true. He and Scully have tugged at the FBI’s last remaining thread of patience, and they’ve finally had it. And just when they are finally onto something again, something big.

His thoughts return to their imprudent excursion to Dallas and what they’d discovered. They’d both seen so much, but only put the X Files in further danger of remaining closed forever. If only they had been able to turn up something concrete, something to help justify reopening them, they could get moving again. He feels so close now, closer than ever, but ever since their office went up in flames he’s been losing his resources one by one.

Now he’s about to lose his most valuable resource.

“Salt Lake City, Utah, transfer effective immediately.” Scully looks exhausted, depleted. Sad, really. She tells him she isn’t accepting the transfer, and that she’s resigned from the FBI.

“I need you on this, Scully.”

“You don’t need me, Mulder. You never have. I’ve only held you back.”

Her assertion takes him completely aback. Where the hell is this coming from? Does she really believe that after all they’ve been through? How can she not know how much he needs her?

She turns to go. He’s let her walk out on him in the past, but he’s not going to let her do it tonight. He walks after her.

“If you want to tell yourself that so you can quit with a clear conscience, you can, but you’re wrong.”

She whips around, looking angry, but mostly just defeated. “Why did they assign me to you in the first place, Mulder? To debunk your work, to reign you in, to shut you down.”

“But you saved me!” He can’t believe he has to tell her this. It’s felt so obvious to him for so long. It goes to the very core of why they are so good together. “As frustrating as it’s been sometimes, your goddamn strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over.”

This is what he hasn’t been able to get across to her, because it would mean talking about Diana and all the reasons that partnership could never have worked the way he functions with Scully. He let Diana walk out on him for a hundred reasons but primarily because they could never have gotten to this place of honesty. Not like he can with Scully.

She knows it too, she knows it, and she’s still leaving him. Maybe Diana got to her, somehow. Maybe she can’t bring herself to admit to him that Diana has left her feeling weak and insufficient.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

“You kept me honest,” he tells her. He’s never been so honest with her before. Her eyes are filling with tears. She’s about to leave him, maybe forever, so he brings it home.

“You made me a whole person.”

She looks floored. She’s completely turned around now, facing him. He knows now she's needed to hear all of this, is desperate to hear it. He wonders if she’s always needed to. He’s hasn’t communicated this as well as he should have and it’s his own damn fault. He’s been so selfish for so long. She’s lost so much because of him and here she is, still seeking his approval. He feels so inadequate, so unworthy of her.

“I owe you everything, Scully, and you owe me nothing.”

It’s the truth. She could leave right now, and he’d never begrudge her that. He’d miss her endlessly, but he’d never deny her that choice, if she truly wanted it. He could never deny her anything.

“I don’t know if I want to do this alone,” he confesses. “I don’t even know if I can. And if I quit now, they win.”

He’s not sure what makes her give in, what makes her change her mind, or if she even has. She’s not one to be at a loss for words. But at this moment she can only collapse into him, resigned. She’s committed to him whether he can bring himself to believe it or not.

As he holds her close he feels something stir inside him that has lain dormant for five years. Dormant, yet vigilant. She kisses him on his forehead, a safe, tender gesture they’ve shared in the past. But he feels something inside him he hasn’t felt with her before: bravery. He wants more.

He takes her face in his hands, and makes her look at him. He looks into her eyes with new intent, something he hopes beyond hope she wants too.

She could walk out of his life at any moment. It’s now or never.

He’s not doing this to make her stay. He’s doing it because he can’t not do it anymore.

Their faces search each other’s and he draws closer and closer, slowly, the anticipation intoxicating. He knows it’s going to happen because she’s moving towards him too.

And just as he can feel her breath on his tongue she yelps and recoils.

At first he’s unsure of what happened. Did she change her mind? He was so sure it had felt right.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He wouldn’t want her to think he’d taken advantage.

“No,” she reassures him. “Something stung me.” She reaches back behind her neck and pulls the offending interloper from inside her collar.

A bee.

He wants to laugh at the irony. The bee is there because of him, and now it’s completely ruined his moment.

Goddamnit. Why is the universe making this so hard for them?

“It must have gotten in your shirt,” he says quietly, the disappointment still painfully present.

“Mulder? Something’s wrong.”

You’re goddamn right something’s wrong. We should be making out right now.

But she looks afraid. She starts to grab onto him for support, slowly sliding down to the floor. She’s listing off all her symptoms to him, ever the doctor. He tries to remember everything in case she’s unable to tell the paramedics… oh god, he has to call the ambulance.

He lays her down gently and runs back to his phone to report an agent down. When he returns, she appears almost completely incapacitated.

“Scully? Hey, Scully?” He holds her cheek and moves the hair from her face. “Don’t do this, come on. I’m getting you to a hospital.” He wraps his arms underneath her and hoists her up. She’s gone completely limp and this hold is not going to work. He turns her in his arms until he’s cradling her, lifts her up, and starts to head towards the elevator.

As he emerges from his building, he hears the sirens approaching. Thank god. The paramedics jump out of the ambulance and help Mulder place her onto a gurney.

“Scully, the paramedics are here. I’ll be right behind them, okay? I’m coming.”

He starts frantically telling the paramedics her symptoms and mentions the virus he’s certain has caused this. As he approaches the driver’s seat to ask which hospital they’re taking her to, everything goes black.

Thanks for reading! See you back here tomorrow for chapter five, or you can continue reading on A03.

#txf #the x files #msr #fanfic #msr fanfic #fanfiction #culmination #diana fucking fowley

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hoe-cuspocus · 5 years

Text

* ╰ —— wow, lily evans sure has changed. i guess she is feeling isolated from the other gryffindor members. guess you can’t really blame them. i still remember them being so altruistic & optimistic, now they just seem guarded & explosive. guess being a muggleborn isn’t helping matters much either. i’m hopeful though. they’ll be just fine.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: i know there are a lot but the main one is poppy from trolls? ( more specifically when she’s drained of color and lost all hope wow how morbid love this for me. )

exhausted ‧ scared ‧ fed up all the time ‧ on the verge of tears consistently

ａｂｌｕｒｂｏｆｔｈｏｕｇｈｔｓ

when she was younger, people used to tease her about her temper. well, among the many things they’d tease her about, her temper was the most exploited traits. lily couldn’t help herself, she’d been wired with a bit of a short fuse that was easily tripped by acts of injustice ( or the odd snide comment thrown at her friends ) as life should have it, most of these incidents directly involved and consequently harmed the small girl with sunshine locks. to be fair, she was easy bait, slim pickins, for no other purpose than to hash out issues that in the end had nothing to do with her. that’s how it goes though, right ? bullies take their insecurities out on the straight shot target, who then spend years fostering their own resentments and feeing their growing self doubt. lily never put two and two together though. never understood that PETUNIA’S disdain over her magical escape only revealed how jealous her eldest sibling was of how special the young witch continually proved to be; the snide comments thrown around the halls about her filthy blood hinted at the fear weak minded wizards harbored when witnessing her excell in her courses.

there’s a reason why lifeguards insist you shouldn’t fight against a current, especially when you feel it tugging harder by the second. after a while, exhaustion sets in, killing the will to fight until it seems like even survival is a feat too unbearable to manage. that daunting metaphor is the only way to accurately describe what lily evans is currently experiencing. after fighting against the universe for the last 7 years, the fire that once fuelled her vibrant arguments and courageous heart is slowly burning out, fear and impotency trickling into her soul slowly.

there were four main pilars that contributed to who lily is as a person. her family, her friends, her magic and her art. the first pilar began wavering just days after her eleventh birthday following the arrival of her acceptance letter to hogwarts. PETUNIA EVANS was thrilled at first, what kid wouldn’t be? magic, pixies, unicorns, all confirmed with one letter and THEY were going to witness it all first hand? or.... well, you know how that argument ended. jealousy reared its ugly head, fueled by the young girl’s fear of being left behind and eventually pushing her to spout icy insults crafted delicately to harm lily as efficiently as possible. their relationship only deteriorated from that point onward and with each passing comment about how A P A L L I N G her existence was, a seed of doubt planted itself deep into a forgotten corner of lily’s mind, slowly blooming with the help of her peers and critics until eventually the weeds infested her conciousness. no one could have imagined the irreparable damage petunia’s harsh actions would inflict in the long run but the damning cocktail only revealed itself years later when the second essential pillar crumbled significantly. teenage emotions run high and insults thrown casually can easily end years worth of friendships in just seconds which was ( as we all know ) what ended her ties to SEVERUS SNAPE, the only ray of sunshine left in her personal safehaven. from that incident onward, lily has been struggling to maintain her head high, her selfworth getting called into question left and right.

BRAVERY is supposed to be the gryffindor trademark. wouldn’t you expect the head girl to embody every aspect of what it meant to be a fearless fierce lioness ? the poor witch doesn’t get where the hell dumbledore got off plucking that pin in her letter, the tiny metal accessory weighing down her robes she’d have to wear when scurrying through the halls. she does not feel brave. SHE’S TERRIFIED. not knowing how many breaths of air she has left before they come for her, for something she can’t even handle. too much of a freak to be a normal kid, too little magic in her blood to be considered a worthy witch. the pressure of the expectations set for her continues knawing at her though she continually struggles to play it off, mastering the talent of slapping on a soft smile and playful eye roll. what if the facade begins to crumble ?

R A G E bubbles under the surface like molten hot lava looking for the less than fortunate moment where it’s ready to burst to the surface, destroying whatever and whoever is within the disaster radius. she’s so close to breaking apart, it’s ridiculous.

lily isn’t an excellent because she just HAS sheer talent. ( LOL YEA RIGHT SHE’S A VIRGO THAT DOESN’T JUST HAPPEN OKAY ) you will find her in the library religiously practicing and doing assignments. and no, not like hermione, effortlessly ingesting information like it’s water. i’m talking four cups of coffee, a cigarette tucked behind her ear - no it’s not her third in the last hour, who said you could count the discarded filters? - hair wild, her cursing because she can’t fucking understand how a teacup is supposed to be transfigured into a pocketknife. she’s exceptional at charms ( thanks homegirl jk rowling for that tidbit of canon ) but everything else sort of takes her longer to understand. it’s probably the only time you can find her disheveled though because she does strive to look like the picture of perfection at all other times. she’s going crazy, we established this.

#incantareintro #♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝓁𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝒶𝓃𝓈 #intro.

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