#I know these are from a while back but I love the nb James and bi Dawn

[manicpixiefelix]

he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) // epilogue

{ head, heart, hand. masterpost }

Summary: Oliver is haunted by what he's done to get his happy ending in Felix's arms. His guilt is only made worse when he meets the first member of your family to actually remind him of you. Unfortunately, he does not find it to get better from there.

{ context; please read he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) first }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD IN THIS ONE, but you do get to haunt the narrative. congratulations?

Warnings: discussions of death/overdose, lots of guilt, manipulative oliver, felix being upset, vaguely unhealthy oliver/felix, lotsa angst, oliver quick reckoning with the sunk-cost fallacy.

A/N: 6828 words. first, i don't usually do part 2s when i say something is a oneshot, so this is a rare occurrence. secondly im sorry this is almost 7k there's something wrong with my brain i think. thirdly bro, bro, listen to me; ANGST. HURT NO COMFORT. HURT NO COMFORT. it's soft in the middle THE SOFTNESS IS A LIE. ITS GONNA HURT ALL THE WAY DOWN (apart from nana i love her nd i hope you will too)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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One hour and fifty three minutes.

Rounded up, because all things considered, he should round it up, that's two hours.

Two hours. Like the blink of an eye in the scope of a whole life. But a very long time when you sit and count it out.

One hundred and twenty minutes. Seven thousand, two hundred seconds. He's always counting two hours, seeing exactly how long it feels like, how he can fill that amount of time. Seconds pass like a steady heartbeat.

He can do a lot in two hours.

Oliver tries to occupy himself nowadays more than ever, and really tries not to be alone, but it's hard. Farleigh left for Oxford. Venetia, before she decided to backpack across Europe and find herself, wouldn't let anyone touch her anymore.

Oliver doesn't like leaving Felix alone, but sometimes he has to be. You're laying cold in a family crypt somewhere next to a grandfather you never knew, and while Elspeth and Sir James don't comment on it, they both scowled when your parents sprung the announcement on everyone at the funeral.

Felix spends a lot of time alone at the edge of the maze. He's making a fairy garden where you had waited. Sometimes he'll drive into town without telling anyone, and come back with quaint, second-hand miniatures to add. It's beautiful, shining with greens and golds when the setting sun hits it just right.

So Oliver finds time to occupy himself, when he's alone and all he can think about is you sitting by the maze. You laying by the maze. You alive when he'd run from the maze. And the two hours that followed.

Sometimes he leans out of his window and shouts to the gardeners so far away they look like ants; even at this distance, his voice carries, and he sees them turn, search for him, ask if he's okay. He is, and he apologises, and he think about how far his voice carries.

On occasion, out of the blue, he'll lift Felix up when he hugs him, able to get his feet off the ground as Felix wriggles and clutches him out of surprise. Of course Felix lifts him with ease in return, spins him around, but that's not the point. Oliver is stronger than he looks; he wonders if he could lift you, could carry you far, if he could have dragged you if it had come to it.

Some nights he wakes up in a fright, your rapid heart rate beneath his fingers and he swears he could hear you whispering for help amid your shallow breathing. Please. Pleading. Begging. You were alive when he'd left you. He presses two finger to Felix's pulse point beside him, and tries to calm his breathing, to focus on Felix's slow, steady heartbeat.

And some days he sneaks into the computer room and curses how long webpages take to load when he looks up statistics on overdoses. Symptoms. Niche forums where he can learn what it felt like from survivors. People luckier than you. Their words, their stories, the recollections of those horrifying sensations stick with him, even as he diligently erases any trace of his browsing history.

And he thinks about how fucking long two hours is.

"Nan's coming over later," Felix tells Oliver idly one Sunday afternoon, "we're having tea of you'd like to join us." They're laying out in the grass, Oliver in the grass finding shapes in the clouds, Felix on his side, chewing on the stick of a lollypop he'd finished an hour ago and gently tracing abstract patterns on Oliver's chest.

"I thought you said your granny haunted Saltburn," when Oliver looks at Felix, he still can't help the way his heartrate picks up. Felix Catton touching him in the most gentle, caring way; he'd never stop feeling lucky for getting here, and never forget what he did to earn it.

Felix's gaze moves with his fingertips, up Oliver's warm, bare chest, twisting two fingers in the delicate chain around his throat. He looks pensive; but shakes his head after a beat.

"Different nan," he says distractedly, plastic straw trapped between his teeth. He tugs the chain experimentally, like he's forgotten it's attached to Oliver at all. He's in his head again; Felix is always in his head nowadays, but there's still often echoes of who he was, echoes of what Oliver has fallen for in the first place.

And he's finding himself falling more and more for this version of Felix too. So he tell himself that it was all worth it.

"Love," all these pet names - Love, Darling, Sweetheart - because if he slips up, tries to call him Fi, Oliver knows he'll only get ice in return, "is everything okay?" Oliver carefully reaches up to cover Felix's large, warm hand by his throat with his own. Felix meets his gaze, and gives a faint smile, an attempt to reassure him when he says he's fine. It doesn't work, but Oliver lets it go, and lets Felix tug him in by his chain for a kiss.

"Tea sounds lovely," Oliver murmurs against his lips.

There's something about this visit has Felix alive and buzzing the he way he hasn't in a very long time. Still he's quiet, but his eyes are bright as he follows behind the staff members setting up tea and biscuits in the garden. He goes through all the DVDs the family has and picks out a stack he thinks would be suitable, making sure they're all perfectly stacked by the DVD player. Oliver floats along behind him, and simply allows himself to admire Felix's energy.

Still, Felix finally takes a moment to breathe right as it becomes noon, and decides to have a bath to freshen up before his guest's arrival; two hours before she'd be here, Felix reminds him.

Two hours.

Oliver feels drawn to his own room. He doesn't allow himself to be alone in Saltburn often anymore, doesn't like the thoughts that crop up when he does. Perhaps it's a kind of punishment, a painful reminder, penance for what he's done.

There's a scrap of paper that he keeps tucked in a book in his nightstand, his own handwriting stuffed amongst a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's short stories, words he'd clung to and scribbled out the minute he'd gotten the chance so he'd never forget them exactly.

From the coroner's report, according to Duncan and Sir James. Time of Death; around 2am. Cause; narcotics overdose, and there were signs of alcohol poisoning.

On the back, he'd written '12:07'.

"Mum and dad both say it was a tragic accident," Felix's voice in the dead of night, the night they'd gotten the full report, riddled with guilt and unspilled tears, betrays his disbelief regarding the sentiment. Felix doesn't talk about how his last words to you were shouted with anger. Felix doesn't talk about how your last words to him were a desperate plea for him through tears. Felix doesn't think that it was an accident; only Oliver knows that he's almost right, just not in the way he thinks. Or dreads. But he has to bite his tongue on the truth, and let the man he loves live with this unjust guilt.

The water starts loudly draining for the tub, and Oliver isn't sure how long he's been sitting on the edge of his bed with his eyes squeezed so tightly shut, but he scrambles to stuff the page back into the book, and toss it back into it's drawer. He can smile again, and admire whatever outfit Felix chooses for the rest of the day, and pretend like he doesn't feel your rapid heartbeat or hear your shallow breathing every time he touches that paper, like he had the night he left you.

With the hour drawing ever closer to two, Felix keeps checking his watch. The minute he deems it to be time, he gives up all pretence of small talk - which had been another thing severely lacking as of late - and snatches Oliver's hand, pulling him through the house. They even outstripped Duncan and the footmen by the door when there comes a firm knock. Its the only time Oliver has ever seen any of the Cattons open the doors for themselves.

And it's not Felix's grandmother.

"Hi, nan," Felix sounds so genuinely happy as he hugs the older woman at the door with a warm smile and your eyes.

Oliver feels like he's frozen, like he's seeing a ghost. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Duncan actually standing aside, giving Felix and your grandmother a quietly fond smile.

"I swear you get taller every time I see you, oh, my lovely boy," she says with a warm laugh that sounds so damn familiar, "or maybe I've been shrinking, you get to my age and people tend to do that," and Felix laughs, actually fucking laughs. Oliver realises it's been a long time since he'd heard Felix give a proper laugh like that. As the hug ends, Felix let's her tuck her arm in his as she continues, "just you wait, one day you'll only be six-foot tall." Another laugh, and Oliver can see how genuine and broad he's smiling, how his eyes shine when their gazes meet. She's surprisingly sprightly for her age, it seems. Oliver recognises your grandmother from your funeral, but hadn't made the connection at the time, so he's surprised when Felix goes to introduce him and her eyes sparkle with recognised.

"Nan, I don't know if you've been properly introduced, but this is -"

"Your Darling, Oliver," and it's said with such warmth; her hug feels almost like home, "you strange, little thing," she laughs, "it's called a hug; are you not a hugger? I should have asked," but she doesn't apologise, nor does she let go for a few more beats. Oliver gives into this moment, closes his eyes tightly and hugs her back.

"Our Darling Oliver," Felix echoes with such admiration, and when Oliver opens his eyes, it's the first time since you'd passed where his gaze has held only the love and pride Oliver had been craving since he'd first laid eyes on him.

Once Nana - she'd insisted Oliver call her that too - lets him go, she tucks her arm in his, and is waving Felix over to her other side, briskly asking where tea was to be held. Duncan leads the way and she fawns over him too, apparently downright overflowing with love for Saltburn and everyone and everything in it. She talks more than she doesn't, but considering who Oliver is and who Felix has become, that suits them both just fine.

It's been too long since they've had tea together, she insists, and doesn't talk about why exactly that would be. She doesn't bring you up, not while you were all making your way through the house, but once she's settled outside, she takes a moment. The way she looks at Oliver in this moment makes him queasy; the smile, that look in her eyes, the way her gaze takes all of him in. A woman, whose time is so precious to her, taking her time to make him feel seen. Felix is quiet, intrigued by the exchange.

Your phantom heart beats beneath Oliver's fingertips.

"You're Y/N's grandma," Oliver says quietly, breaking the tension. Present tense still, they all play pretend. She smiles, and finally leans back. The moment is broken; Felix pours them each a cup of tea. Nana takes a jammy dodger and looks over the gardens with a smile.

"Of course, dear," she says sincerely, taking a bite of the biscuit, but being so eager to talk that she spoke through half a mouthful, "and when they were thirteen they told me I was Felix's grandmother too, because they'd overheard Felix's mum talking about how she hoped they'd get married some day." Felix snorted a laugh at that, turning pink around the ears as he prepared everyone's tea, as if on autopilot.

"Does that -" Oliver begins awkwardly, but he tries to smile, "do you think in time, they would have ask the same of you about me?"

"Considering how they spoke about you," there's a twinkle in your Nan's eyes as she turns back to him, smile knowing, "there's absolutely no doubt in my mind, my dear." All you had ever done was love him; love him and stand in the way of the love he desperately craved.

Oliver watches his tea for a long while, spinning the ornate cup on its matching saucer, while your Nana almost immediately picked hers up and took a tentative sip. Watching out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver notes the way her face goes on a journey of emotions, from pleased, to confused, to a sudden realisation as she looks to her cup.

"I should have asked you how you liked your tea," Felix realises too late, apology in his voice as Nana puts her cup down with a forlorn, yet fond look.

"No, darling, it's nice to know you know how my grandchild liked their tea," and she holds her cup delicately, looking into it's warm, brown depths, "just the same as I always made it for both of us when they were much, much younger."

"I am so sorry to ask," Oliver hears himself blurt out, unable to help himself, "but how does all this love just skip a generation?" It comes out far worse than he intends it to; he means to ask how someone so loving as you come from parents so uncaring, yet how did either of those parents turn out the way they did when the woman in front of him was clearly bursting with just as much love as you had been. Thankfully, instead of being offended, your grandmother laughs.

"My daughter is a wonderful, intelligent, compassionate, impressive woman," she begins, but sighs with unmistakable disappointment, "but my late husband was never capable of even trying to be a father over pursuing his own interests, and it's one of the few traits she actually inherited from him," she shook her head, "and she went on to fall in love with a man who loved her but suffered from that exact same defect," after a beat, she looked up with a warm, reassuring smile, "it's why I love Y/N so fiercely, and so hard," her grin turns soft and adoring, looking between the two boys before her, "the only way my daughter has ever disappointed me is as a mother, but I will never be disappointed in Y/N as my grandchild."

Oliver knows there's tears in his eyes, and Felix has ducked his head. Immediately Nan begins apologising, realising she'd set both of them off. Despite this, Oliver tries to wave her away, insisting it's fine, before he asks about her; he's heard bits and pieces he thinks, but Y/N had always been so cagey about their family. Honestly he's surprised that your grandmother knows so much about him when he feels like he's barely heard about her.

Despite turning out to be an incredibly decorated artist, with paintings selling for more than Oliver's pretty sure his own family's house is worth, your Nana is quick to downplay her own successes, simply insisting that it took decades of hard work. Again, he sees you in her eyes.

"We've got a few up around the house," Felix adds, "most of them actually from before we even met Y/N," and your Nana gives him a shove, as if flustered and embarrassed by the idea. But Felix is beaming, happy to be showing off her accomplishments, just as he always took joy in celebrating you; "there's one in your room."

"What?" Oliver asked, and your grandmother also seemed surprised, though touched by the thought.

"It used to be their room, actually, but Ollie moved in there, so Y/N was staying with me," he explains a little awkwardly, wanting to skim around as many implications as he could. Thankfully she doesn't comment. All she asks is which one. Felix and Oliver both think about the room; Felix about the few pieces of art on the walls, Oliver about your time of death in the drawer. You were alive when he left you -

"That one of the stars, and that person smoking; I think you actually gave it to them as a gift," he frowns for a beat, "for when they turned seventeen, I think?"

Oh, Oliver knows that one. It's enchanting, blues so deep, so rich it's like you could swim in them, stars that seemed to actually glow on the canvas, and the hazy, dark outline of the window in the foreground, and part of a figure against the windowsill, lit cigarette the lone spot of fire, of red or orange, that makes everything else warmer for it.

"That one really surprised me actually," Nana admits, giving Felix a shrew smile, though he only seems confused, "did they ever tell you anything about it?"

"Said you painted it for them; pretty sure I remember them crying about it," he says fondly, reminiscing, "one of the best gifts they ever got, I'm not lying, they say it every year. It's beautiful." Then, as if recalling what she'd actually said, he looks at her curiously, "surprised you?"

Her smile widened into something both knowing, and endeared.

"I asked them to send me a photo, a postcard, their very best drawing, anything, as long as it was their favourite place in the world - do you really not recognise it?" The tea and biscuits are gone by now, the tea portion of their afternoon is coming to a close. Felix shook his head, almost looking like a lost child, as if he was aware there was something he was supposed to be understanding but couldn't quite get it, "Felix, my dear boy, they sent me a photo of you; that's their dorm room window from boarding school."

Felix looks winded, and a bit like he's about to cry.

"Oh you two were impossibly sweet," she reaches over and holds his hand tightly, looking over to Oliver earnestly, "you take care of this dear boy and his heart, you hear me?"

"Yes," Oliver all but trips over his words to agree, "of course, nan." And she gives him a pleased grin.

They move indoors after this, Felix quiet but lending his arm to Nana, which she takes, while she explained that usually you and Felix would visit a few times a year when they were on break, but she thought it would be best to come to Saltburn this time, given the circumstances.

"You should come see the place when you get the chance," she insisted, patting Oliver's hand.

"It's mostly where Y/N was raised before they ended up staying at Saltburn," Felix supplied with a grin, piquing Oliver interest.

"Y/N's childhood home? Oh I have to see that," he grins, and your grandmother grins brightly for a long moment.

"I'm sure Y/N would love that, they can give you the grand tour -" but her face falters, falls, as if she'd just remembered. Sombre silence, the spell is broken. "I'd love to have you around, dear," she corrects, much softer this time.

Felix lets her pick a movie, while Oliver settles himself awkwardly on the sofa. He wants to reach out to Felix, to touch his cheek, feel his boyish smile and know that it's real. But Felix isn't really even looking at him. There's something childlike about his enthusiasm here, about how he sits on his knees on the floor, watching with rapt attention as your grandmother pores over them. He practically glows as she praises his choices. When she picks one, she hands it over and he scrambles on all fours across the short floor space to the DVD player, fumbling with the case like he can't put it in fast enough. There's a softness in your grandmother's eyes as she watches the boy who has seemingly forgotten the man he is; when she looks at Oliver, its like he sees her asking how easy is he to adore, what a beautiful young man.

"You don't mind watching a movie do you, Oliver, dear?" She asks, though it's clearly an afterthought. He's already shaking his head, assuring her it's fine. Felix is already scrambling back, remote in hand. Oliver tries to make space for him on the sofa between himself and your Nana, but he seems content to sit on the floor in front of her, leaning back against the sofa with her knees gently pressed against either of his shoulders. Handing her the remote, Felix twists to give Oliver an expectant smile.

"Come here, mate," he insists, patting his lap, his legs kicked out in front of him. At Oliver's obvious confusion, Felix blinks for a few moments. It's like he's waking from a dream. His face falls, he goes to apologise, strained smile on his face, "sorry, I know that's weird, you don't have to -"

Slowly, Oliver moves from the sofa, sitting beside Felix on the floor. Your grandmother's knee is pressed gently to his back, but he's not quite sure if he's capable of relaxing enough in this moment to mind. She's playing with Felix's hair, having already started the movie.

"This is what you and Y/N would do," Oliver said softly, and rested his head on Felix's shoulder. Felix takes his hand, and laces their fingers together.

"Do you like it when people play with your hair, Oliver?" Your grandmother asks idly.

"Um, sometimes," he answers, still feeling rather awkward. He hears her chuckle warmly.

"It's okay if you don't want me to; Felix likes it so much he lets me braid it when it's long like this."

"Oh, I know Felix loves it," Oliver hears himself agree, "if he were a cat he'd be the kind to purr any time someone scratched between his little cat ears." And while both he and your grandmother share a fond laugh, he can hear Felix's smile in his words. He gives Oliver's hand a squeeze.

"I can't even argue; I wish I could purr right now."

Oliver wants to bottle this moment forever, keep it locked tight in his chest.

But the movie is a long one. One hour and fifty six minutes. Two hours rounded up. A whole two hours. Enough time to fall asleep with his head in Felix's lap the way they both said you used to. He wakes with your heartbeat in his ears, rapid, alive, left for dead.

"You okay buddy?" Felix looks at him with genuine love and concern; it's been such a long time since he'd seen that look, even with everything that had been happening, "I'm here, you're okay," he assured. Over by the television, putting the remote back, your grandmother glances over at the interaction with a warmth that makes Oliver feel queasy in this moment.

And he'll look up from the book, from his notes from the coroner's report crammed in, obscuring the end of one story while The Tell-Tale Heart begins on the other. Felix will be getting ready for bed in the other room, but he won't sleep there. He can't sleep there. Can't sleep in that bed without you, can't move the costumes from that night that hang side by side as a reminder of the hole you'd left behind in his life. Oliver will read approximately two am in his own messy handwriting, and look at the digital clock on his bedside that had read 12:07 when he'd crashed into his room and locked the door and sunk down against it. The numbers had been shining red in the darkness. On the wall behind, that starry night sky and the hint of Felix and his cigarette; a home you'll never return to hung up in the home you'll never truly leave.

He put enough coke in that bottle to kill a fucking lion. He'd given you the bottle. He'd told you he loved you. He'd left you like that.

He knew you were dying.

He'd left you alive.

Two hours.

The book snaps shut. In the silence he thinks he hears your breathing. Please, Ollie, help. Paranoia is a cruel thing, he has to tell himself; paranoia and guilt.

"Can I ask you something?" Felix joins him just as he's putting the book back in it's drawer. Oliver, heart beat racing - never as fast as the memory of yours, oh now it's all he can think about again - nods quickly. Felix sits on the end of the bed, clearly preoccupied, fussing with the buttons of his pyjama shirt. The days are getting cooler now; Oliver misses his bare skin against his, but he still feels too precarious to make such an observation.

"It's about Y/N," Felix swallows, can't meet his eyes, "about that night." Oliver feels his mouth go dry; the worst fucking night of his life. The night he doesn't know if he'll ever figure out if he regrets all he'd done.

He nods again.

"Were you the last person they spoke to?" It's like Felix is forcing himself to not shy away from this moment, giving Oliver the attention he thinks he deserves for such an important question. Then, after swallowing hard, he can't help but drop his gaze, "why," he can barely get it out, there's already a lump in his throat, "didn't they come into the maze too?" Oliver can't even give him that.

You'd been such a mess on your way to the maze, even with Oliver supporting you. Crying, furious, apologetic; you were everything at once. Even when you couldn't bring yourself to go in, everything about you had been sliding from one emotion to the next. But then it had stopped.

"I can wait for Fi here." It's the most sure that he'd seen you all night. It's when he knew. It had to be you, even if he loved you too. He'd never forget how clear your smile was, how sincere you'd urged him into the maze to follow the tail of what he thought was right. The sight of you, waiting, obedient and loyal for your master to return; "I'll be here, I promise; I'll wait."

Oliver knew before he'd even entered the maze that Felix's return to you would be too late.

In the present, Felix waits too, diligent, expectant. Oliver thinks about lying. Oliver thinks about how the truth will break his heart. Oliver thinks about how close Felix will hold him in his guilt riddled grief.

"I don't think they wanted to interrupt -" Oliver tries to start, but Felix immediately swears, hangs his head.

"Can't fucking believe I did that," he spits, "I was angry, and off my fucking face, sure, but that was fucking low, even for me," he admitted, pitching himself back on the bed, whole face scrunched up with guilt, barking out an upset fuck far louder than the others, prompting to Oliver to tentatively ask what he means. Felix took a moment, as if forcing himself to calm down, before he admits, voice low like he was sharing a secret, "I never even took Eddie into the maze," he sighed. After a beat, he conceded, "no, okay I did, but we didn't do anything - we made out a bit, but -"

"You didn't fuck you ex-boyfriend in the maze," Oliver connected the dots quickly, "but you did fuck your best friend's ex-not-girlfriend who you kind of stole from them, out of spite after kicking them out of your the bed you've been sharing all Summer?"

"Fucking hell, Ollie!" Felix sounds especially wounded when he lays it all out like that.

"Sorry," immediately, Oliver apologises, knot in his stomach when he hears Felix's pained tone. He wonders if this was what it was like for you all through the night of his birthday. Fuck, he can't think about that.

"No, but you're right," Felix admits, eyes finally opening, looking all hurt and vulnerable. Oliver lays himself down next to Felix, going the other way, both of them looking up at the ceiling. Oliver's hands rest on his chest, trying again, softer this time.

"So was a special place to them?" He gets no response other than a guilty nose from Felix, "you think that's why they wanted to wait by the entrance?"

"They wanted to wait for me," Felix says weakly, clearly in his head about that night once more, "didn't want to interrupt even as I was fucking defiling our-" but he catches himself turning bitter again, mouth snapping closed, "after everything I said that night," he mumbles, "fucking hell," he chokes out. The pain in his voice is audible. This is the sweet spot, Oliver thinks.

"I can wait for Fi here," Oliver whispers amid Felix's faint sobs.

"What?"

"You asked me what their last words were," Oliver told him as softly as he could manage; Felix sits up, eyes wide, distraught, so full of guilt and love and - "only thing they were properly coherent about; waiting for you," Oliver props himself up, reaches out to wipe a tear from Felix's cheek.

"You're not- Ollie, please tell me you're not kidding," Felix practically begs.

"I can wait for Fi here," Oliver reiterates, making sure to meet Felix's gaze as he holds his face, "'s the last thing they said- they said; I'll be here, I promise; I'll wait."

God he can see it in Felix's eyes; it's like the man's entire world crashes down around him. But he clings just as Oliver had hoped he would. As Felix holds him tightly, Oliver can't look at the glaring, red numbers of the clock on his bedside, the constant reminder of the two hours where he could have done something. Two hours and those wouldn't have been your last words.

He looks at the painting. At the stars. At Felix and his cigarette and your idea of what home looks like. The stars look just like they did that night. Just as bright. Oliver closes his eyes. Guilt twists people into shapes they don't often recognise; Oliver just holds Felix, hopes they twist into something together.

Except Oliver's guilt isn't the kind that twists, it's the kind that bites. It's like moths, eating him from the inside out. The guilt leaves him with jagged edges and thoughts he'd rather not be having; there are shades of Felix Catton that he loves, but shame and revulsion bites just behind the guilt as the months pass and he realises more and more this is not what he wanted. This is not the Felix he wanted.

Felix is like an echo, like the sun without it's warmth; he can look just the same, smile, talk, charm just the same if it was required of him, but there was something clearly missing from every interaction. Guests to Saltburn would pull his parents aside and ask if everything was alright. He is, but he is not the same as he once was.

Every day Oliver looks in the mirror and sees something grotesque behind his eyes that no-one else seems to notice. Felix Catton was meant to be the prize, the one who tossed aside everything but the best, the one who made the world fight for his attention, and feel heartbroken when he merely looked the other way. After all this, Felix Catton was not someone Oliver expected to be bored by.

Oliver Quick had lied for, lied to, betrayed the trust of, worked to gain the trust back of, loved, made fall in love with him, and literally murdered the love of his life who he also loved and was themselves also in love with Oliver while still considering Felix the love of their life, just to get a chance to spend his life by Felix fucking Catton's side. He wasn't allowed to not want this.

Felix smiles at him, says he loves him, fucks him, but it's not the dream Oliver once had. Something is always missing. No. Oliver deliberately took that thing away. But he can never admit that, nor can he ever regret that; too far gone. Oliver doesn't want to talk about the past, Felix can't being himself to talk about the future. Trapped together in the present, living lives that no longer feel like enough. Their routine becomes suffocating. Even Venetia, the few times she's stopped back at Saltburn, can barely manage a disdainful look, as if merely inconvenienced by Oliver's presence.

The growing apathy of the estate and it's occupants is exhausting. The cost of this lifestyle has long since surpassed it's value. He's even bored of being haunted. Two hours feels like fucking nothing when the days drag on the way they have been. Behind his eyelids he doesn't see you begging for help, you hiss for him to run, to get out.

He should have listened.

"Ollie, can I show you something I found?" Felix sounds bright today, and though Oliver wants to roll his eyes at the idea of anything in this house being new or novel enough to show off, he smiles back instead.

"'course Felix, what is it?"

Except Felix isn't smiling at him. Felix is looking far more serious and determined, sitting on the edge of their shared bed. Oliver immediately frowns.

"Have you been hiding something from me, Ollie?" It's a trap; a forced confession. Oliver shakes his head, plays dumb. Felix takes a deep breath, the kind that shifts his whole body, his expression remaining firm, "before I show you this thing, I want you to be honest with me; you promised you wouldn't lie to me anymore, you remember?" Oliver tries to lighten the mood, leaning against the window with a warm smile.

"Of course, my lovely Felix, no more lying," he assures, but the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with the way Felix remains quiet.

"What's seven-past-twelve mean?" Felix is watching him closely; too closely. Scrutinising his every move. It's like Oliver's been doused in ice water, even his tongue frozen in his mouth, "and what's it got to do with what happened on the night of your birthday?"

Felix doesn't even look at the night table as he opens it; his gaze is solely on Oliver. It's clear he'd done this before, pulling out the book, flicking through it's pages, and pulling the delicate, incriminating piece of paper out from where it had been safe for so many months.

"Felix, I-"

"What does twelve-oh-seven mean?"

Oliver is the deer again, trapped in Felix's accusatory gaze. For just a moment, Felix's voice drops, pleading with him for some other explanation, that Oliver wasn't somehow caught up in what happened, more closely, more malevolently than he'd ever said -

"Tell me," there's tears in his eyes, the furious kind, the ones where he's desperate to love and hope against all odds, "Oliver," he pleads through gritted teeth, "tell me you didn't know."

"Know what?" Oliver's voice is a hoarse whisper; he knows he is caught, all he has left now is borrowed time and a desperately silver tongue he doesn't know if he can rely on anymore. But Oliver's tragically weak denial is enough for Felix to all but jump to the right conclusion.

In a rush, Felix has Oliver by the collar of his shirt, pressed to the window -

"You knew they were dying and you fucking left them there."

This is the tipping point, the end of whatever good this had been. Felix could hurt him, Felix had hurt countless people on your behalf, he'd seen it himself. But Felix had always been the bleeding heart; you were the one who had to be kept on a leash. Felix could hurt him, could probably maim him for what Oliver was about to say, but he never shared your stomach for true Machiavellianism.

"Of course I knew," Oliver managed coldly, despite Felix attempting to crush all the air from him, "the amount of coke I gave them in that champagne could have killed a rhino-" it needed to be unforgiveable, the confession, so Felix would let him leave, would never want to see him again. He hadn't expected the force of Felix's rage to have the glass behind him give out.

Oliver falls from the second story window into the hedge garden below. Felix's shouting is tearing through the whole house it seemed, making his way downstairs, while Oliver tries to regain his breath and figure out if anything's broken. He's pretty sure it's not, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt as Felix drags him by his feet from the hedges, demanding at the top of his lungs that Oliver get the fuck out of Saltburn.

Every single person who'd been in the house comes outside to view the commotion, to see Oliver struggling to his feet, to get away from Oliver. Elspeth looks helplessly between the two boys, wondering what happened -

"Tell her what you did," Felix demanded, once more getting into Oliver's space, jabbing at his chest, "tell her what the fuck you just told me -" and Oliver's strength isn't insignificant, but Felix is in a fury, flooded with rage and adrenaline, and he grabs the back of Oliver's shirt like he's scuffing a cat, shoving him towards his mother like an offering. Oliver struggles because he feels like he has to, feels wild, feels feral, but it's the most of anything he's gotten from Felix in so long. His mouth stays shut, won't give him the satisfaction of a confession.

"He killed them," Felix doesn't even let Oliver have his power play before he grows bored. He shoves Oliver just a little, grip unyielding despite Oliver's best efforts, like he means nothing to him. Elspeth and Sir James are confused, looking between them both, but Felix isn't done with stringing Oliver up for all of Saltburn to see, "Y/N; he intentionally dosed their drink and left them to die outside the maze."

The Catton parents immediately look crestfallen; it's the first time in months Oliver's felt genuine guilt again. Oliver stops fighting. Felix lets him go. Elspeth asks him if this is true; that heartbroken hope is going to make him sick.

"Just send me away already," he drops his head.

"Oliver," Elspeth's voice is firmer this time; when he looks up, she's stepping towards him, tears in her eyes despite how hard she's clearly trying to hold herself together, "is Felix telling the truth?" Is this it? Is this the final gate to his freedom from Saltburn.

"Yes."

Elspeth slaps him so hard her ring draws blood. Oliver hadn't thought that was even possible, but his head is ringing from the collision.

"Get. Out." She hisses with absolute malice as he's hunched over, clutching his face. Felix is by his mother's side in a heartbeat, arm around her, looking at Oliver with contempt. Behind them, Sir James is ordering Duncan and the other staff members to get Oliver off of the property as quickly as possible, but the look in Elspeth's eyes is burning, "this is my family, you monster."

At first, it almost feels worth it to leave Saltburn. To leave the Cattons and their bullshit and their games behind. He thinks he knows them well enough to trust that they don't want the kind of scandal a murder on their hands would be, and for the most part, he's right.

It's not the Cattons who haunt him after Saltburn, though they may be pulling the strings. It's you. It's you sitting on Felix's bed in his dorm room reading every single detail of Michael Gavey's file with threats on your tongue. It's the casual way you talked about being able to access his academic files to change his grades if he wanted. It's you, tipsy at Saltburn, admitting that you got Eddie transferred without his consent to a university on the other side of the country after he cheated on Felix with Venetia.

There's no place for Oliver to return to at Oxford... He's not entirely surprised about that, however, there's also apparently no record of him ever attending. Any calls or enquiries he makes are shut down with the kind of immediacy that seemed reserved for shows about government conspiracies. When applications open for other universities, it seems websites shut down the minute he fills out his damn name. Nowhere in the world seems willing to consider him.

Having him audited seems like overkill. When it happens the next year, despite no employer willing to even consider him for an interview, the existential dread of his situation sets in.

Felix never had the stomach to finish the job; he'd let you haunt Oliver forever.

[jokeringcutio]

Ok, so, hear me out...

How would Hook react to his S/O (preferably GN or NB) being really affectionate and having anxiety?

Thank you for taking my request and I hope you have an amazing day/night,

PhantomCat 💜

OMG MY VERY FIRST ABOUT HOOK <3 Thank you. Captain James Hook would be delighted to find out that you are actually this eager to be with him, near him, to want to touch him despite his physical disfigurement (his hook, psst, he thinks it ugly, but you are going to change that opinion of his).

Headcanons follow:

When he finds out that you want to be affectionate, but suffer from anxiety, he is, at first, amused. Touched really. Not literally but figuratively. He can tell how much you want to hold him, place a hand on him, compliment him, or comfort him. And how something inside of you is holding you back. Now he loves to stir a little bit of fear in his enemies. But you, my dear, are not perceived as one. And this, my dear, is not the type of fear he wishes to stir in you.

He’ll slowly start to encourage you to be more open with him, to unleash that affection you hold, and to have fewer doubts and fears about yourself.

If it means he has to rely on foul play then so be it. He’ll lure the affection out of you with word tricks, drinking games, pirate rules, and challenges. In any given situation, he will see an opening and make use of it, just to bring out the reaction he wants from you.

He’ll be the one to instigate more intimate moments between the two of you, by grabbing your hand, holding you by the wrist, or placing his hand on the small of your back while walking or talking. He’ll have you come over to his cabin to discuss something – anything – just so he can have you sit in front of him and brush his knee against yours underneath the table.

If he is in the right mood, he uses his theatrical skills to get you to rush over to him, hold him, or pepper him with kisses because, well, he is used to a little acting with Pan and even his own crew. He’s gotten quite skilled at it. So if he has been under attack by Peter you might just find him exaggerating his wounds or pain a tiny bit, just enough for you to shower him with your affection, whilst he angrily snarls the other crewmembers away. Because you are the only one whose tenderness he needs right now.

If you’re slowly getting over your anxiety, even if just a bit, you know it is because of this man. He is helping you feel safe around him – despite being a dangerous pirate. Isn’t that a paradoxical thing? But you can’t help it. The more time you spend with him the less anxious you get around him. And the thing that really helps you is that you know that he is aware of your anxiety and will guide you through it, be it in his own way. If pressure is getting too much, he’ll divert attention away from you. If he sees you need rescuing, he rescues you by giving his men tasks or challenging someone to a duel or, you know- it all depends on the situation and who is making you anxious.

You want to touch him in public, in front of his men? That is a no, under any circumstance. He needs to keep up a certain reputation among his men, after all. But if your hand happens to come to rest on the hook of his elbow, or if you stand a little too close and your hips brush, well, he will let it slip. The man might be a bit of a masochist, but he secretly enjoys these hidden touches.

His crew aren’t dumb, you know. They have noticed their captain’s changed behavior when he is around you and they make bets behind your backs about the silliest of things. Like: when will the captain fake another dramatic faint just so you will hold him? And when will the two of you finally sleep together? And when you have, who will be on top next time? Yeah, they keep quiet about it to your faces, but you and Hook both notice what is going on, and you let them be. It is fun to see them gambling about your sex lives, and morale on the ship has never been this high.

[delixatepov]

hey everyone! i'm looking for some active threads on discord (preferably), 20+ only partners. ngl my responses can be spotty, but i will reply. i find discord easier to reply (gifs not required, but tupperbox is). i prefer paragraphs (semi novela lit), but not opposed to shorter. i play m, f, nb with a high preference for female muses.

like this and i will reach out to you. below you'll see plots/fc's i'm interested in, but really happy to chat about any other plots not listed.

plots i’m dying for 

cute lil curious college roommates experimenting (f/f)

sister fucking her brother’s girlfriend

a plot based on ‘tis the damn season…. small town, childhood friends, one stayed put and the other moved away for college… now comes back for the holidays ten years later… pls

divorced couple energy

no humanity vampire couples

our muses to wait for a delayed flight together

our muses to get trapped outside in a blizzard / snowstorm together

You spanked me as a joke in front of our friends but it turned me on and now I’m trying to find excuses to go run off and masturbate where I 100% definitely won’t think about you spanking me definitely not

ghostface anything

Enemies to "I found you while hurt and had to take care of you and in your vulnerable state I saw a side of you I've never seen before" to lovers

Enemies to lovers "who did this to you?" about scars? Great, of course. However, I raise you this: "I did this to you."

best friends to lovers

our muses get stranded in a different country together

jilted-in law and bride to be 

(OT3) I maybe sort of accidentally got turned on while we were laying in the same bed and you’re both clinging onto me from either side and I don’t want to upset you both by moving away but I don’t want either of you to know that I got aroused while we were innocently cuddling. Help. 

small  town  vampire  x  human  au (twilight-vibes)

medical drama (grey’s anatomy vibes) 

camper/camp counselors stuck in terrorized camp (supernatural elements) 

I was teasing you and I called you vanilla and now I’m laying with my hands are tied and shit, is that a vibrator?

reverse fake dating: very in love couple has to pretend theyre not actually togetherreverse fake dating: very in love couple has to pretend theyre not actually together

All the supernatural things (werewolves, vampires, witches) 

Demi-God (pjo vibes) 

opps i would love;

homme; nicholas chavez, christopher briney, damian hardung, sebastian stan, dylan o'brien, aaron taylor johnson, charles melton, logan lerman, tom blyth, ryan gosling, andrew garfield, henry cavill, paul mescal, jacob elordi, chace crawford, pedro pascal, sam claflin, ben barnes, matt smith, harry styles, regé-jean page, bill skarsgård, daniel sharman, theo james, garrett hedlund, adam brody, chris evans

femme; aubrey plaza, elizabeth olsen, florence pugh, daisy edgar jones, kathryn hahn, barbara palvin, brie larson, kristen stewart, ana de armas, phoebe tonkin, dakota johnson, nicole wallace, olivia scott welch, adelaide kane, sophia bush, renee rapp, victoria pedretti, elizabeth lail, billie eilish,

nb: emma d'arcy, e.r. fightmaster,

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

back again cause I'm curious as someone who's clued on to the finer details of neurodivergence do you think that james' character changed too weirdly between midnight heir and tlh? like I'm adamant these are just different sides of him brought out by different circumstances (and we see in cog and cot some aspects of the former) but he's always struck me as the 'high masking til he can't anymore then the insecurities about not being kind enough and not being fun enough kinda snap him into the opposite I-really-don't-care-anymore-about-being-responsible-for-everyone-and-everything mode' type and like I don't know if I'd catch that either if I didn't know people (myself included, sometimes) like that. what do you think?

So I have a lot of thoughts on this, and I've seen the posts floating around about how short-story James and TLH James are two different characters.

On a surface level, I'm inclined to agree that they look very different. And yet, on a deeper level, they're clearly the same person. You are correct.

Nothing But Shadows

In the case of NBS, I've always been inclined to believe that this is just James Younger.

It's here that I want to note that NBS James reads, and always has read, as autistic to me (in the same way that Matthew has read as bipolar since that story). He exhibits many autistic traits, including:

Awkwardness in social situations

A desire to avoid situations like this (he literally just wants to find a corner to read in most of the time)

His heavy-handed discomfort with Matthew that definitely stems in part from his extraversion

Difficulty expressing himself (both pre-NBS at Hatchards and during NBS in all of his encounters with the mundane students as well as Alastair + the mean boys)

Special interests in reading and storytelling

NBS James hasn't really grown into himself yet, and he's been consistently sheltered. He doesn't have a close friend group yet, and that develops in NBS. We see him even over the course of the story become bolder as he engages with Matthew (and Thomas and Kit, though I'm inclined to believe that most of his newfound boldness comes from the extravert that adopted him). By the end, he's still insecure and quiet, which is a natural product of what happened to him at school. But he's also a bit more open, at least with the other Thieves.

This could be James opening up, but I definitely do agree that there could be a component of masking here. As someone who masks, I generally eventually drop it when I spend enough time with someone and come to trust them. It seems likely that James would drop the masking after a while of coming to know Matthew. We'll never really know which of these options it is, I don't think. I believe it's both.

Cast Long Shadows & Notes on the Timeline

I want to talk about CLS too and TMH, but the timeline of the bracelet is murky. In NBS, there's a reference to him knowing Grace, loving Grace, and even wearing the bracelet (he touches it once). But in ChoG, the Days Past show him getting the bracelet in 1900.

@layla-carstairs posted earlier about how timelines in TLH make little sense if you think about them for a while, which is a general fact. Charles and Alastair's relationship has a murky beginning date, which I can unpack in a different post, and Thomas is canonically 18 for over a year. THAT BEING SAID, Cassie once said that what's in the books superseded the short stories (which is also why I think Charles and Alastair have been together since at least 1900, probably 1899).

So, I'm going to work under the assumption that James was given the bracelet in 1900.

The James of CLS is bolder, more mature than the James of NBS. Makes sense, considering he now has close friends and is just generally growing up! And yet, he also feels closed off and muted. I think this may simply be the bracelet's handiwork.

The Bracelet and Masking

Since we're talking about neurodivergence here, I think it's also interesting to consider the bracelet as an allegory/metaphor for neurodivergence. I highly doubt that this was Cassie's intention, but I have definitely thought of this in passing before.

Cordelia literally calls James' well-composed face The Mask. She talks about there being two different Jameses, and during the course of her discussing this, he is almost always wearing the bracelet. So, he definitely has some personal masking going on while wearing it as well as its effects of muting his character.

The Midnight Heir & TLH

I think of the bracelet as something of a neutralizer. I don't think it gets rid of James' personality. But I think that it mutes him. It takes his wilder traits and suppresses them, and makes them much calmer and less prominent. We see this in ChoG and ChoT; he's far more passionate and open in these books when the bracelet is removed. He feels more like the James of NBS would feel after growing into himself.

But, on another level, James in ChoT after removing the bracelet feels more neurodivergent. This is very likely because of the trauma of having a) coped with the bracelet, and b) knowing what happened to him (which was literally years-long emotional and sexual abuse. Thanks, Tatiana).

He definitely has some form of cPTSD, as most of the TLH characters do. People with cPTSD (like myself) often exhibit additional ambiguously-neurodivergent traits that are difficult to diagnose and pin down. (Alastair and Grace are amazing examples of this, because I fully believe that their neurodivergent-feeling comes exclusively from PTSD. I don't think this is the case for other characters like Matthew or Thomas or James. Alastair and Grace are special cases).

ANYWAY, re: James, this belief is bolstered for me by the fact that James does not want to be pitied and also feels that he's reliving the bracelet experience whenever he talks about it. He seems agitated in a similar way that he did in TMH; he shoots things again; he's more fiery, more hotheaded, more honest. He's got more Will in him than Jem, which is how he feels in TMH.

This is also the point where I note that James thought Grace had left him in TMH. I think he was still wearing the bracelet, but Grace's telling him it wasn't going to work would surely have short-circuited Bracelet James.

I think that, as time goes on, James is going to embrace these traits more. He's going to be who he really is rather than that muted version of James.

A Small Note on James and TLH

One of the hardest-to-stomach things about TLH is the fact that we do not truly know James. Even at the end of it, we have just met the truth of him. For the vast majority of the trilogy, we have only known this muted version of James that has hidden the brighter, more vibrant brushstrokes underneath him.

This is why I'm hesitant to call James boring. I don't find him an interesting character in TLH, but I also understand that we never meet him, not really.

It's interesting to note how James and Matthew's stories mirror each other a bit here; we're just now getting to know Matthew when he's not under the influence of alcohol. (I'm down to talk about this a bit more, btw - I've always strongly identified with Matthew. I call him myself in a different font, and I also periodically will call him my dark mirror. I probably have more insight into him than I do James because I get him, whether he's drunk of not. His actions always make sense to me even when I disagree with them, and I find him extremely interesting even when drunk. But I digress).

In any case, sorry for the ADHD, but I think that this is one of the hardest things to stomach about TLH. We don't know our main character. We've never seen how vibrant he is outside of ChoT, when he's in an unimaginably awful mental place. We will probably never get a feel for his "true" personality as an adult/adult-adjacent.

I think this is purposeful on Cassie's part, but I also don't necessarily agree that it was a good decision.

In any case, these are my thoughts, and I'm starting to ramble, so I'm closing this post. But thanks for the ask. <3

[spinderella-umbrella]

Untitled Moonseker??? I can’t just NOT ask about my favorite guilty pleasure ship!!!

Oh I love this one. Sorry it's taken me so long to get to this, life has been kicking my butt since I went back to work. So I stumbled into the possibility of this pairing working late last year, and I actually started writing this in... November? Maybe late October. But it was around the time that I started signing up for fests so it ended up on the back burner to make way for my Dead Dove December fics: Polyjuice, Made to Bathe in the Light of the Moon and Everything You Know is Wrong. I also participated in TransComfest: Come for the Hot Toddy, Stay for the Bubble Bath and Sirius Black Fest The Best of Intentions

Wow December was full up.

AH! The Fic!

It's set in Australia, during Christmas. So far, Remus, James and Marlene are Australian. Sirius and Regulus are from London, and are visiting Aus for Christmas, as theres nothing really keeping them in London.

Remus works in a bookstore, and Reg is a quiet "influencer". Remus has come across him on social media, and he's lowkey in love with him. Reg shows up at the bookstore while Remus and Marlene are working, and the rest is a secret I'm keeping for later ;)

It's T4T, and there is hella NB and queer rep too.

At this stage, it's still a "Christmas" fic. I'm hoping to get it done by Oct/Nov so I can upload it.

Stay tuned!

[ofwishfulthinking]

if you’re hearing I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY by WHITNEY HOUSTON playing, you have to know GENEVIEVE ZACHARIE (SHE/THEY; CISGENDER WOMAN) is nearby! the 26 year old has been in denver for, like, FOUR YEARS. they’re known to be quite NAIVE, but being OPTIMISTIC seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble K DEVERY JACOBS. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those THE FEELING OF SUNSHINE ON YOUR SKIN, THE SMELL OF THE OCEAN, AND DOGEARED PAGES OF BOOKS vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the UNIVERSITY DISTRICT long enough!

details: (tw death, car accident)

what can be said about Genevieve’s childhood except that it was as happy as could be expected. as with any family, there were moments of tension, but the edora family was a closeknit one. the only child born to Kate and James Zacharie, Gen was rather spoiled as a child.

her favorite memories revolve around bedtime stories. james edora, a well known voice actor, breathed life into stories, his voices and characters having played a major role in gen's early artistic journey. in addition, weekly trips to the local library where her mother worked provided fodder for her already active imagination.  

she could always be found with a pencil and notebook on hand, writing and sketching stories to capture the characters that lived in her mind.

tragedy struck when Genevieve was 10. One day, while returning from a family outing, the Zacharie vehicle was involved in a car accident. Her parents didn't make it and the other driver was never found.

Gen entered the foster care system. Thankfully, it wasn't long until they met the couple who would become their adoptive parents and only a year until she was adopted into their family. Through it all, Gen opted to keep her original surname in memory of her parents.

despite, or perhaps in spite of, the tragedies she'd experienced, gen continued to thrive. she was ever optimistic, sometimes bordering on naivete, and found herself living more fully in her imaginative worlds.

at 19, she moved away for college. three months later, she was back in denver.

she has since enrolled in college closer to home, opting to live in the university district in order to meet new people and expand her horizons. in between classes, she's working as a nanny for a local family.

potential connections:

friends (childhood, new, etc)

any kind of romantic connections -- exes, flings, will they/won't they (f/m/nb)

the family she works for (WC on the main)

roommate (WC on the main)

any and everything

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Yes, yes, I left the novels off there. Natural is not on there. Crescent Street is... sorta on there. (I'm honestly surprised neither you nor @deandoesthingstome have asked me about that???)

The grumpy vampire is getting laid as we speak, so calm down, everyone!!!

I can't put everything I'm working on on here because then we'll all be drowning! There's like... 5 separate chapters of Natural I'm working on. There's a Charles chapter for crescent street I'm not even sure will fit into the story. I have like 4 or 5 chapters of Crescent Street outlined in my head. There's centaur!Sy, which I'm still not sure I'll ever write.

BUT! You did ask me about some interesting things, so let's get going, shall we? (I'm gonna put this under a cut because I have a LOT to share. Lucky you!!! hehehe)

#4. SyMikeReader

Jesus Christ. I groaned, slowly opening one eye only to find exactly what I expected: darkness. The alarm clock next to my bed showed 3 AM. Fuck. Fuck, indeed. I wished I had earplugs – though I doubt they’d had worked. The sounds coming from the other room were far too loud. If the rhythmic banging of my roommate’s bed against the shared wall between our bedrooms hadn’t been enough of a hint about the activities of my next-door neighbours, the endless stream of high-pitched screams and moans would had cleared up any remaining confusion beyond a shadow of a doubt. Where the fuck does he find these women? Was there a weekly meeting of Excessive Moaners Anonymous that I didn’t know about? With a sigh, I turned my head to the left and opened my eyes again. My lips curled up into a smile when I saw your – admittedly barely distinguishable – body next to mine. How does she do it? How can she sleep through all this fucking noise? I chuckled softly at the unintended pun, but when the racket on the other side of the wall let up for a bit, my smile disappeared. You couldn’t, either – you were awake. I didn’t move – my body felt heavy, and my heart seemed to switch between beating a mile a minute or not at all. And so, I was forced to listen. To my roommate pounding some girl so hard it made my own bed shake. To that girl, whose entire vocabulary apparently consisted of ‘fuck’, ‘oh God’ and ‘yes’. And to the sound of my own girlfriend fingering herself to the dulcet tones of that next-door fuckfest, while she thought I was asleep. The movements of your right arm were echoed in the movement of the comforter (there was never a more disgustingly inaccurate word) we shared. If there was even a word to describe the way I felt, I didn’t know it. It wasn’t long before I felt you tense up, trembling in a way I didn’t recognize, soft gasps escaping from your mouth increasingly quickly. The neighbours quieted down for a second just when you reached your peak, and the moan you let out between laboured breaths turned my blood to ice. “Oh God, Sy!” It was quiet but unmistakable, and more than enough to release the tears I’d been fighting back. Fuck.

That's 400 words, but I thought it would be a nice intro into this thing, that I'm actually not sure I'll ever finish. (Unless someone can provide me with sufficient encouragement, that is.)

#5. Part of your world.

This is @deandoesthingstome's mermaid fic! I have nothing more to share about this at this time, I apologize profusely!!!

#9. Nicely with a bow

BDSM with modern era Napoleon! (I know I've told you about this one... The one that starts at the shibari expo and ends at the afterparty. Napoleon treats you like he's buying an expensive piece of art and you love it.

Also my first NB reader fic!)

#10. Puppy love

It's dad!August trying to protect his little princess (16 years old. Little. Sure, daddy. *rolls eyes in decidedly teen fashion*) from making the huge mistake of dating his college rival's (and wife's ex-boyfriend) son; James Michael Syverson (Jr.)

Full of unhinged teen behavior, August being a hilariously overprotective dad who would really like to introduce Mike to his gun collection in a way that is completely unrelated to any by his wife prohibited schemes of scaring the boy out of his house permanently.

A snippet;

“Daddy, come on, it’s just a date!” “Princess, you’re too young to date.” “Oh my god! Mom!” She stormed out of the kitchen, and you foolishly thought you could pick up the paper again. “Please talk some sense into dad!” And there she was again. Both of them, even. You sighed and put the paper back down. “August, for the love of God, she’s sixteen! She can date!” Your wife put her hands on her hips — you hated it when she did that. “Not with that...” You struggled to find the words without letting the entire house in on why exactly you didn’t approve of this boy. Other than him wanting to do unspeakable things to your daughter, of course. “He’s a sweet kid,” your wife said, rolling her eyes — you hated it when she did that, too. “He’s a Syverson!” you blurted out. “She’s not going out with the son of that sleazy, good-for-nothing son of a—” “Only if you can say it in church, August!” You didn’t even go to church! Neither did your wife, but it was her go-to way of keeping you from swearing, and as much as you hated to admit it, it worked. “Junior can forget it,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Go get ready, sweetie,” your wife said to your daughter. Your blood was boiling. Did you have absolutely no authority in your own damn house? Not usually, no... “I’ll have a chat with your father.”

It's written from August's POV, and there are some mentions of underage sex in this one — but honestly, if you're going to come for me for writing a story in which it's mentioned that a sixteen y/o and an eighteen y/o want to bone... Anyway.

Last but not least;

#12. Widowmaker

Let me just say, my dearest co-Nina... You don't want to know anything about this fic. You wanted this to be a surprise. So I'll keep most of it a surprise and give you the synopsis. (Cluing in @mayloma, @ellethespaceunicorn, @littlefreya, @ylva-syverson, @omgkatinka, @livisss, @wa-ni and @sillyrabbit81 because maybe there's a chance they'd be interested in this as well? OH WELL.)

I'm not entirely sure when this will be set, it's going to be 1960s or before that, even. To be decided, I guess. We're going for some Agatha Christie-vibes with a Nile cruise type situation, except the main point of this fic is not murder mystery but sex and scandal. Okay let's go.

With a single finger I trace the string of pearls around my neck. They've been left in my drawer for far too long, but my heinously proper mother-in-law insisted I sober up my wardrobe during the time following her son's death.             I'd say it has been my pleasure to honor the memory of my late husband this way, but I won’t. And not because I’d be lying — Lord knows I have no problems with that at all. I would object to saying such things mostly because that one sentence would consist of so many lies it would quickly become complicated. And I happen to detest complications.             My late husband had been by far my most detested complication in life — which would be why I haven’t shed a single genuine tear over his demise. Some would deem it untimely, but I disagree. After all, if I were being perfectly candid… He had it coming.

When they call her recently widowed, she herself would much rather speak of newly released — though such a thing is quite unbecoming for a lady to say.

Even oversees, she is surrounded by the whispers she sought so desperately to leave behind. Allegations of the foulest kind with regard to her proposed involvement in her husband's sudden passing — lies! All of them!

Now, if one were to seek distraction from such terrible rumours, where would one turn? The handsome, flirtatious cruise director (Napoleon)? The wide-eyed, young bell boy (Mike)? The quiet, standoffish captain? (Sy) Perhaps the broody mystery novelist (Walter), or the polite but professionally distant lounge pianist (Sherlock)?

How does a lady make such a choice? And if everyone promises their discretion... does she even really have to? Especially when some find themselves silenced in more irreversible ways...

So, there's that.

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

@deandoesthingstome Thank you SO MUCH for the tag. I know this wasn't a setup. You'd NEVER do that, would you? You bitch (affectionate).

Here we fucking go...

Diary of a pretty boy

DKITYTI Pt2

Marshall + Lexi date

MikeSyReader

Part of your world

pirate fic

Shot through the heart

Sit

Nicely with a bow

Puppy love

werewolf!Geralt x druid

Widowmaker

Librarian threesome

priest!August

And that's it!

Did I put one or two of these on here as bait? Yes.

Am I sorry? No.

I'm sure everyone's been tagged at this point, but just in case...

@mayloma @gummydummy19 @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya @ramadiiiisme

And literally anyone else who wants to participate!

@geralts-yenn I know for a fact you were tagged already but I figured you wouldn't want to miss this post...

[modelbus]

May I please request an x reader with Tommy where they're in a secret relationship, and no one knows except his and reader's family? Can reader also be nb please? Thank youuu

This got… out of hand. Sorry.

Pairing: Cc!Tommy x Nb!Reader

Secretly A Simp

“Get in the closet.”

“Hell no, I’ll never go back in there.”

“Wilbur will see you!”

“I’m friends with Wil, he can see me all he wants!”

It’s the case of an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object. You, refusing to hide in Tommy’s closet. Tommy, trying to get you to hide from Wilbur.

For over a year you and Tommy had been dating in secret, hiding it from all your friends. It was less of a conscious decision than a “Tubbo will leak this” one. Either way, it was getting a little annoying. Although that was mostly because Wilbur loved to walk into Tommy’s flat uninvited and unannounced.

“But he’ll know!” Tommy hisses.

“No he won’t!” You respond at the same volume.

“Tommy?” Wilbur calls.

The door opens, and Tommy’s face is an open book of guilt. What a scene for Wilbur to walk in on. You were sat in Tommy’s chair but turned away from his computer while Tommy had one hand on his open closet door, the other motioning to it.

“…what the fuck?”

“They’re totally not my partner.” Tommy announces loudly, slamming his closet shut.

“Oh my fucking God-“ You groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

“They’re totally not my partner.” You mock, pitching your voice up just to aggravate him. “It’s the truth and somehow you still made it sound like a lie!”

Realization dawns on his face before his acting practice from lore streams kick in. He plays along perfectly, crossing his arms.

“I don’t fucking sound like that!”

“Uh, hello?” Wilbur waves a hand in front of Tommy’s face. “I’m still here.”

“Hi Wil!” You greet. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? No, you don’t get to move on from that. What the fuck was that?”

“That was Tommy being a dumbass.”

“Hey!”

“…okay.” Wilbur still seems confused, but he drops it. “Since you’re both here, do you guys want to check out the new restaurant with me?”

“Nope! You’re old, go call James Marriott or something.” Tommy finally moves from his place next to the closet to usher Wilbur out of his room. “And stop barging into my house, man!”

The only reason it works is because Wilbur seems so goddamn confused. You’d feel bad for him if you hadn’t almost gotten caught red-handed with Tommy. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he knew, but right now only his family and yours knew.

As Tommy moves him progressively closer to the door of his flat, leaving you behind in his room, you strain to hear what they’re talking about. Hopefully, Wilbur didn't suspect anything.

“If this is about your crush on them, you know I won’t say anything.” Wilbur half-whispers.

It takes everything you have not to laugh. Wilbur thought Tommy had a crush on you? Or did Tommy tell Wilbur he did?

“It’s about you being too old. We’re hip and young and trendy. You’ll drag us down.”

“Literally yesterday you were begging to hang out with me-“

“You speak in lies. Bye-bye now Wilbur, come back never.”

“Wait-“

The door shutting is so loud that it startles you into flinching. If Tommy really just slammed his door in Wilbur’s face, he’s getting two angry calls. One from Wilbur and one from his landlord.

“I’ve banished Wilbur.” Tommy sighs, trudging back into his room.

“You have a crush on me, do you?” You ask, teasing. His face goes red.

“Fuck off.”

“You really really like me?”

Without even hesitating he throws a pillow at your face. Amid laughter, you catch it and then throw it back toward him.

"What were we doing before he interrupted us?" Tommy asks, changing topics.

You blink, thinking about it for a moment. "I don't even know."

[stormblessed95]

Storm you will not believe this. Kind of old but I was waiting for help to translate this to English. Hopefully the following story will make you laugh in pure disbelief and not make you too angry. So I’m trying to make army friends in my country (non-English speaking) so I joined a group chat to get to know some new people. It’s going well, and we tend to talk about topics once bangtan bombs or vlives go up etc. So around the time BTS on corden dropped, there’s a pic of Corden carrying JM where JM’s lower half looks wowww. I bring this up in passing amongst a slew of compliments to the other members too, add a lil peach emoji, but nothing too much- pretty much standard praise for our chat. One of the members of the chat replies to my JM message ‘Hmm I don’t see it. Tae has the nicest ass in the group let’s be real’ . At this point I’m confused and affronted cause - 1. Blasphemy and RUDE 2. Even If that’s your opinion I didn’t ask!! and 3.There’s certain features that members get particular praises for, otherwise army (and the members!) wouldn’t have coined phrases like namtiddies, CGV, worldwide shoulders etc. So while, absolutely Tae has a lovely booty, let’s not act like that diminishes that there is a whole fandom dedicated to jibooty alone, including Mr. you-have-to-touch-his-thighs himself (war of hormone Tae, I’m also looking at you!!!). So I’m looking at this message and this message is looking at me, and for the life of me I don’t know how to reply nicely. Thankfully someone changes the topic of conversation and the other members promptly follow suit. One of the ppl in the chat private messages me and apologises for what happened and says that it happens ALL THE TIME and that the girl is a tkkr, as if that explains anything?!?! I ask them for more clarity and they explain ‘She doesn’t like it when people praise jimin’s booty so she tries to convince others that tae’s is better, cause tkk are together and jk as the type of guy that he is must like the guy with the better figure’. So I’m looking at this message and this message is looking at me, and so I leave my phone, wash my eyes and come back to the same message, which is still looking at me. I have lost all brain cells, my desire to live and my faith in humanity. Ladies, nb’s and gentlemen, jimin is not allowed to have an objectively nice booty because of tkk. Apparently this is something some tkkrs have gotten into trouble for before. Storm, I must estimate that I have lost 7 years of my life because of this. The connotations of this scream homophobia, fetishisation, sexism and sex negativity to name a few, holy hell. Do you know when something is so dumb you just have to laugh or you’ll lose your mind? This is a 21+ group, someone over the age of 21 thinks like this!!! Needless to say, I did leave this gc, since they allowed this behaviour to go unchecked long enough for their to be history of altercations. Extra tidbits - 1. This only applied to jimin and not the other members (no shit sherlock) though yoonbooty and tiny waist jk have been brought up and praised before (as they should, kings!) 2. Same applied whenever anyone brought up jm’s lips too, but not Jin who is co-member of the bratz line (hmmm I wonder why). I knew that some tkkrs were bad, but the fact that someone would be so pressed that they can’t even let jibooty be, has really taken me to a place of disgust I doubt I can ever recover from…Anyways who needs army friends when I have BTS and your blog, am I right!!! What are some of your fav jibooty and bratz jm moments? Mine are the aforementioned James corden pants or let me keep you warm by slapping the jibooty and lip makeup for the blood sweat and tears m/v and stages.

Well.... thats... alot.... lmao I'm glad you left that GC. I don't care whose ass you prefer lmao to do so only because of a ship is weird as heck and clearly its for the reasons of being a petty bxtch only then. But regardless. Anon. If my husband questions as to why I have a bunch of ass photos on my phone now, imma send him your way. Thank you! Lol I'm going to throw in a lot of members appreciating the jibooty gifs though too

Thanks for showing off Jimin...

Take it easy Tae 😂🤣 he is just really out here staring hard lmao

We've lost Jungkook.... 😂

Took your time there Yoongi....

Yes, I agree Jin 🤣😂

[whaleofatjme1920]

Yeah sure sorry my bad I always forget everything, while I'm typing it. Well I was thinking like a boyfriend headcanon if that's make sense? Correct me if this wasn't what you asked for

-Brig

Researcher Talloran as a Significant Other

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: Admittedly, I don't know a lot about Talloran?? So I did some reading,,, but the portrayal might be a tad off. This is a guy I'm still getting to know, y'know? I also checked a wiki page on Talloran and it seems they also identify as NB, so I'll be using he/they pronouns here.]

From what I can gather, James is a very introverted person that feels everything is his fault. They don't quite know how to handle the world around themself because they've always been scapegoated.

How does this play out in your relationship with him? You spend a lot of time just being there, making sure the nights aren't that hard and they he isn't overwhelmed.

He's got a lot of insecurities but you being part of his life has never been one of them. They light up whenever you're near, and things feel a little lighter when you tell them how much you love them.

Let's pretend that SCP 3999 wasn't the absolute jerk it was and that Talloran managed to defeat it and come out..... yeah managed to escape.

He doesn't stop having nightmares. He won't stop having nightmares. The damage is too deep and embedded within their psyche for amnestics to work. It just- you wake up a lot in the middle of the night holding them and bringing them back down to stability.

A lot of your relationship with him is slow, sweet, and getting them back to a sense of normalcy.

By extension Draven checks in on you two as well. Could possibly be read as a poly relationship.

He's genuinely scared it's all an illusion or that horrible thing will hurt you in some way. But it's gone. it won't hurt anyone anymore.

I honestly think Talloran leaves the Foundation after this, at least, not in a working sense.

The two of you take things really gently. You rely on each other, Talloran more on you than anything or anyone else.

Talloran is touch starved. Please hold him. They need you more than ever.

[manicpixiefelix]

seen and not heard

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

Summary: You are the weirdest person at this fancy event Felix's parents dragged him along to, and the only person his age apart from his sister. Turns out you're intriguing enough that he doesn't protest when his parents suggest you join them for a Summer at Saltburn.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. I know the reader comes out as NB and changes their name to Y/N in high school in the main fic but suspend your disbelief.

A/N: 2211 words. FLASHBACK!! anon asked for a flashback to a core memory for young felix & reader, so here is their first meeting that ends with a core memory for felix. i love them both, id like to write more of them being young together in future. (also i was a little drunk while writing this, please forgive me xx)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Summer slips by from one sticky-hot moment to the next at the Saltburn estate. Felix still isn't quite sure what to make of you, even as he'd so callously agreed to have you in his home after meeting you at one of his parents' various functions. It had been one of the rare ones he'd been invited to attend, alongside Venetia, tasked with being on his best behaviour.

The hosts were friends with his parents - they always were - and he'd found himself on a boat. Early in the afternoon he'd found himself aware of your gaze on him and his sister, the two of them pinching canapes from passing waiters. Venetia had been trying to put as many as she could into her mother's purse without Elspeth noticing, but all Felix could do was eat them as quickly as he could, bored out of his mind from smiling as his parents showed him off.

Our beautiful boy, Felix, they'd said when people politely asked who he was, and our daughter Venetia is around here somewhere.

No-one came near you, by the railing, people watching and occasionally being brough a glass of orange juice in a fancy cup by various members of staff who would give you pitying looks. There weren't many others around his age; he wasn't even sure why he and Venetia were there at all. Eventually, however, he managed to slip away from his mother.

"How boring, right?" He'd laughed softly, but you'd shrunken back, glancing around, as if unsure whether you were even allowed to respond.

"It's for a good cause, isn't it?" It sounds rehearsed. You look more uncomfortable.

"I guess, I don't know," he shrugged, "why are you here? Your parents bring you along?" You're still avoid his eye contact, looking around at the other guests. You shrug kind of helplessly, before finally looking at him.

"You're Elspeth and Sir James' son; I heard them talking about you," then, as quickly as you'd turned to him, you look away, "I don't know if I'm allowed to talk to you."

"Why can't you talk to me?" He's growing more intrigued by the minute, watching you closely, which only seems to agitate you further. A slow smile spreads across his lips, "who are you?"

You shrug.

"That's not an answer," Felix relaxes further into the conversation now, leaning against the railing of the boat, looking over his shoulder at the waves breaking as it moved through the water in the sunset.

"I'm not anyone really, I'm just here," you try to smile, but it's awkward, it's like you don't quite know how. It's not upset or unhappy, it's just the truth you know it seems. Then, after a moment, your attention seems drawn back to the others. He follows your gaze, and sees his parents speaking to the people who'd been pointed out as the hosts at the start of the party. Something in their gaze is intense, but not unkind. His parents smile at him, and he watches the hosts manage a faint, awkward smile at the pair of your by the edge of the boat. They nod.

Beside him, he actually hears you let out a shaky breath.

"You're Felix Catton," you say so very softly, even though he'd never properly introduced himself, "your sister is Venetia and she's been in the kitchens for the past fifteen minutes; not sure how that's going to work out for her." He turns to you very sharply, sees the way you're watching him with a nervous energy, "I'm Y/N."

You're being very weird.

"I know everyone here. Sorry," you admit finally.

"I don't have to know everyone here," Felix frowns; he should probably leave, be too weirded-out to stick around, but something about you intrigues him beyond what he can say. You shrug, but it's easier this time, as is the half smile you give him.

"You're not me."

A strange creature. A marvel. He spent the next hour pointing out patrons while you rattled off not only their name, but any gossip you somehow knew about them, much to Felix's delight. Sometimes he'd catch you watching him, watching the way he'd smile and laugh at the strange details you'd manage to recall that would make you laugh, and he saw a fondness in your eyes that frightened him with how much he appreciated it.

The two of you spend the better part of the night together, which would be strange if he didn't catch his parents watching approvingly every so often. Venetia had been brought out of the kitchen by a waiter and was kept on a metaphorical tight leash by his parents, so they seemed glad he was just keeping out of trouble.

"How would you feel about Y/N spending some time with us over the Summer?" His mother had brought him the idea at the end of the night in the coach ride back to Saltburn. Venetia is asleep in her lap, curled up awkwardly, while his father sat up front with the driver.

So that's how you ended up at Saltburn that Summer.

You showed up, still a strange creature, still a marvel. You knew all the scripts, never slipping up even as Duncan loomed over you. Please and thank you and dressing up for dinner without having to be asked. Venetia giggled and called you a robot and an alien and Farleigh spent the first few days mocking how formal you were at every given interaction. Always asking, always delicate, always seeking permission.

But Felix sees through the nerves. Or, at least he hopes he does.

"I'm desperate for some ice cream," there's a good chance you're asleep, but he tries his luck, whispering through the shut door on the other side of your shared bathroom.

"Uh..." he hears from the other side.

"Do you want some?" It's late enough that everyone else is asleep, but he's rather desperate to see the side of you that had come out by the end of the event he'd met you at. Of course you're nervous when you open the door, but he smiles, and you smile back, sleepy but more genuine than it had been since you'd arrived.

"Are we allowed?"

"Probably not, but it's my house so who cares," and he grabs your hand and pulls you to the kitchen. Something about the way you laugh despite yourself hits him square in the chest.

In the day time, Elspeth gives you both concerned looks and asks if you slept alright. Every time you make a point of straightening your posture and giving her a bright smile and assuring her you're fine. Felix will yawn and give a thumbs up. The change you show in the day is gradual, it almost takes all Summer.

You learn to play with Farleigh and Venetia and Felix without seeming like a robot; you learn their rules and games and jokes. You watch until you can respond in the way they all want to hear, while still being perfect under the watchful eyes of Sir James and Elspeth. Everyone loves the way you shape yourself to fit into their world.

At night, however, you come alive with Felix.

Of course he already knows Saltburn like the back of his hand, but he's surprised by how quickly you learn to move silently, following his footsteps and stifling your giggling. There's something about him that makes you chatter honestly, rather than trying to say exactly what you think he might want to hear.

"Sorry, sorry," you apologise, the two of you having been cackling at an inappropriate joke Felix had been recounting. The two of you are laying in his bed, top and tails on his duvet, looking up at the ornate ceiling.

"What are you apologising for?" Felix's face hurts from how much he's been smiling. It's been happening pretty much every night now, he can't remember having more fun over Summer in his whole life, he has no idea why you're apologising.

But you grow quiet.

"I dunno," you say softly, and shift your knee to press into his elbow. A strange silence settles over you both, and somehow he knows that's not all of it, that there's more on your mind you don't know how to say, "all of it," you finally say, and try and laugh again but can't quite manage it.

"You're so weird," Felix sighs finally, dramatically, bringing levity back to the moment and sticking his foot in your face as you protest loudly.

"You're so gross!" You cry, glad that you two were the only ones on this side of the house, shoving him away, smacking and kicking just as he was too, until the two of you are scraping. Tonight you win, biting at his shins until he calls for a truce, and you grin in triumph.

This more human side of you bleeds into the daytime. You tease Venetia but help her rope Farleigh and Felix in a fashion show, just so she can tease up their hair and put them in makeup and sequins. You scrap and squabble with Farleigh in the lake but end up laying all over each other during movie nights with the rest of the family.

And Felix? Well it takes little time for the rest of the house to see how close you become.

There's always something fond, something almost proud in his parents' eyes when they see the two of you together now. They host little events over the Summer, and they start introducing you and Felix together.

"Our beautiful boy, Felix, and his darling, little friend Y/N; a friend of the family."

Still, you shrink away at events; you hide if you can get away with it. Felix always finds you, and then he finds Farleigh and Venetia and the four of you will often play cards in one of the quieter rooms you were all still allowed to be in for the duration of the party. At first he doesn't ask, but curiosity gets the better of him eventually.

"Don't like being looked at," you muttered, distracted as you frowned at your hand of cards. Venetia scoffs and Farleigh rolls his eyes.

"I'm not meant to be looked at," is the real answer you give when you and Felix sneak out of your rooms to eat leftovers at three in the morning. Sitting on the kitchen counter, you've got a plate of half-finished hors d'oeuvre between you. You're focused on the food, unable to look at him.

"What's that even mean?"

"Dunno," you shrugged, "just not meant to be looked at."

"I'm looking at you now," Felix leans in, opens his eyes as wide as he's able, and is rewarded by you cracking a smile when you finally glance at him, unable to help yourself.

"Not like that," you shove his face away, rolling your eyes even though you can't stop smiling, "like, there's people who matter at these fancy events that our parents go to, and people who don't matter, like they're people so of course they matter, but they don't matter to the people who matter, you know?"

"Kind of?"

"Like you matter because you're a Catton, but you don't matter because you're ten, but your parents matter-matter. Waiters don't matter one way or the other, which is mean but it's true at stuff like that," its starting to make more sense, but Felix can't help but watch how you're picking apart a cracker almost atom-by-atom as you explain, "and I matter because I- I, um," you stumble over your words, "because I just matter, but again, I'm a kid," you clear your throat awkwardly, "but I'm not really meant to even go to those things, and if I do, I have to really seem like I don't matter, like even less than a waiter; the least matter-ing person to not matter."

Then, finally looking up, you meet his gaze and apologise. There's something almost forlorn in your eyes.

Felix still doesn't know what to make of you in this moment. A strange creature. A marvel. Someone who matters, even if you're not meant to; someone he decides matters to him.

"You're being so weird," he grins finally. You burst out laughing, whole face lighting up, tension leaving you in an instant. It sets him off too, filling the kitchen with joy.

Sure, the two of you should probably be quieter in this moment, in the dead of night, but neither of you can bring yourselves to care.

Felix doesn't realise how this moment, this first Summer sticks with him. It takes him a long time to even bother questioning why it is that you start spending every Summer with them, how you convince your parents to let you join him at boarding school for secondary school after spending all Summer before talking about how cool it would be. In due time you will finally make total sense to him, but by then it won't even matter, it won't change anything about how glad he is to have you by his side.

Felix doesn't think about why or when he decided to make sure you knew that you mattered, but there's a little bit of it in everything he does.

[tenpointstoq]

Some bondverse headcanons

Okay let’s line them up

001: George Windsor 70 years young

002: Victoria ‘ Tori’Tanner the ultimate bad bitch (Lara Croft wishes). Married to Tanner. Can and will bench press you for fun. Sometimes lets Q sit on her back while she does push ups. Loves their kids and drives their mini van like a rally driver.

003: Archibald gale Rowling the worst. Is actually a Spectre spy but he is so bad and both sides hate him so much neither of them give him the right info. He also doesn’t know Spectre died so he is now just some dude.

004: S (everyone is still betting on their full name) 005’s NB not so secret life partner. Also the best actual sneaky spy aside from Chanel MI6 has ever had. Has the best fashion sense. Everyone wants to both be them and probably date them. No one is sure of which.

005: Chanel (number 5) trans woman, all her jewellery can and will kill you.

006: Alec, ‘I came for the food’ but he stayed cause he’s the honorary lesbian. Bonds best friend. Gets Bond and himself in and out of a lot of trouble.

007: James-I don’t understand memes-Bond chaotic bisexual. Married to Q.

008: Nomi a queen.

009: Alan I lost my keys Walker the dictionary definition of a Himbo. Hulking and incredible bean. (Face claimed as Don Lee or Gilgamesh from eternals)

How the 00’s eat apples

001: he eats those dried apple circles

002: eats whatever sliced apples their kids haven’t eaten.

003: doesn’t eat apples and thinks it’s cool to not eat fruit

004: poaches them and eats them on fancy granola.

005: appletini’s bitch

006: with a hunting knife Alec was given from Skyfall the one time James took him there to visit

007: we know he does the cool removing the skin in one go

008: just bites them like a normal human wtf @ everyone else??

009: just eats it whole

Tanner drinks apple juice in fancy glasses and pretends it’s scotch.

Eve unironically likes juices so she just has it in green juices.

Q takes one bite then forgets about the apple for 2 weeks till it’s dried up into a weird shape they find under some paperwork

[futurebicon]

No Control Part 3

Julian is nonbinary in this fic and I think they will be in all of my fics from now on even though in my original NB Jules fic they came out when they were older.

I wrote this in 4 hours. Kinda proud. I might try and stay up late and get the next part written tonight if at all possible. (No idea how many parts this will be) I've finally used this tablet enough so that the keyboard is a decent speed.

Warning- hospital, injury, not really panic attack but being in shock, no medical knowledge

"Hey Captain No Spleen." James smirked.

Sirius smiled back but was quickly overwhelmed by all the greetings.

"How are you feeling, min fils?" Dumo asked.

Sirius looked at Remus. The words Dumo just said formed slightly over his lips, hoping the movement brought recognition of the meaning to his mind. He shook his head as it failed to remember. "Re" he whispered inaudibly.

Remus nodded and soothed back his hair. "It's okay."

"He's having some trouble understanding what people are saying. It takes a while for his mind to process the words and with his amnesia he sometimes doesn't remember what the words mean." He explained.

"That'll go away, right?" Kasey asked.

"Yeah." Remus nodded. "Once his mind heals more or once the shock of it wears off."

"Logan?" Sirius spoke. Everyone was obviously shocked by how small his voice sounded.

"He's okay." James told him.

'Slow' Remus mouthed as Sirius blinked in confusion.

"He's okay." James repeated slowly. "Leo and Finn are with him. He's resting."

Sirius nodded in understanding.

"He was worried about you." Thomas told him.

"Good" Sirius smirked with his eyes closed.

"That's a bit rude, spleenless." James shook his head with a smile. All of them glad to see some sign of their Captain.

"How- how-" Sirius struggled.

"How what, baby?"

"When-" He groaned.

"Is it about Logan?"

"No" he gritted out forcefully.

"It's okay. Just take your time, love."

"Other- when- can't think-" Sirius hit the bed in frustration. "Can't think."

"Hey, hey, shh." Remus took his hand. "It's okay. It's okay. I know it must be frustrating but it's okay. Just breathe love and then take your time."

"Other- car" he said a minute later after trying to form the right words.

"What happened to the other car?" Dumo tried when Sirius didn't say anything else.

"Yes" Sirius breathed in relief that someone understood.

"Oh, um. They think it was a hit and run."

'Hit and run' Sirius mouthed.

"It means that the driver hit your car and then drove off." Remus explained.

"Why- did- would-"

"We don't know but the police are investigating." James told him.

"Oh. Have- talk to-"

"You don't have to talk to them now, but once you're better you might. Logan told them what happened earlier." Remus assured him.

"Oh-kay" he sounded out.

Anymore conversation was cut off by the door opening.

"Hey Cap." Finn smiled tiredly as Leo and him walked into the room.

"What happened? Where's Logan?" Dumo asked.

"He's fine" Finn told him "Kicked us out so he could sleep and they could run tests."

"You okay, Knut?" Remus noticed Leos cornered animal appearance.

"Hm? Oh. I'm okay." He darted his eyes down when he made eye contact.

"Think I'm just tired." His voice was a quiet and slurred mutter.

"Here. No one sit." Kuny had stood up from his chair, knowing Leo was too dazed to notice.

'Thank you' Finn mouthed as Leo sat down. Serigi moved so Finn could sit beside him.

"Le- okay?" Sirius asked.

Finn gave him a confused look before Remus retold what was going on.

"Oh. Yeah. I think he's just in shock still." He said slow for Sirius. "He was weird with Logan when we first saw him. Said he was scared to hurt him. I'm pretty sure he just needs sleep."

"Hey that news place they were going to do the interview for just tweeted. 'Due to irresponsible time management, childish pranking, or just plain laziness, Logan Trembley and Sirius Black did not show up for their interview today. Apologize to all who were anxiously awaiting to read it.'" James read the post.

"So no one told anyone?" Kasey asked.

"I have a picture of the car that the police gave us." Finn smirked. "Should I log in to the teams account and retweet their post?"

"Do it." Everyone told him to.

"Coach said do it." Kasey read his reply. "He said the league hasn't responded to anything he has told them and hasn't even heard anything he told them. So this should get enough of their attention."

"What do I say?" Finn asked. "Just 'Here's why'?"

"Make sure to say that they're alive" Dumo told him.

"Re" Sirius hit Remus's arm. "Too many- go slower- want to know."

"Guys." Remus said loud enough for everyone to stop talking. "Slow down, one at a time." He nodded towards Sirius.

"Sorry" Sirius muttered and looked down. Like he was ashamed that he couldn't process what they were saying.

"It's okay." Dumo shook his head.

"The interview you were going to posted something petty about how you weren't there." Remus explained. "Finn is going to post a picture of the crash because we're also petty."

Sirius smiled at the words. "League don't-"

"Coach is trying to tell them but they won't listen."

"Now they will." James wiggled his eyebrows.

Finn cleared his throat dramatically, making Sirius smile and Leo giggle, before reading what he had typed like he was reading a message from the king.

"Sirius Black and Logan Trembly would of loved to do the interview, but because of someone elses inability to read a speedometer, stop at a red light, and not drive away after hitting a car, they were unable to. They would be estatic to sit down and have a nice chat once they are out of the hospital. We are sorry to anyone anxiously awaiting to see them play next week. Due to a punctured lung, bruised heart, broken ribs, damaged kidney, brain damage, a broken leg, severe whiplash, and a missing organ, they won't be able to make it to the game. Thank you for your understanding and please drive safe."

"Perfect" James laughed.

"And.... posted." Finn pressed the post button dramatically.

"Oh fuck." Remus turned serious. "Did any of us tell families about this?"

"Nope. Shit." Finn pulled his phone back out of his pocket. "I'll go call Lo's parents." He kissed Leo.

"Call mine too?" The happiness that ghosted Leos face when Finn was being dramatic had left him emotionless again.

"Of course, baby." Finn kissed him again and left the room.

"Tell- parents?" Sirius looked at Remus.

"I'll tell them." Remus nodded.

"We'll go." Dumo said.

"I probably should answer my parents." James held up his phone.

"Noelle's gonna murder me." Talker whined as his rang.

The team trickled out till it was just Sirius and Remus.

"Remus?" Hope answered the phone. "We saw what was posted. Is he alright?"

"He's okay, mom." Remus assured her.

"Oh thank god." Lyall breathed.

Sirius smiled at their reactions to him being okay.

"Can I talk to him?" Jules asked.

"Yeah he's right here bu-"

They cut him off. Going a million miles an hour.

Sirius gave Remus a pleading look because he loved Jules and he knew that they talked like this but right now Sirius needed them to slow down.

"Jules- Jules." Remus tried to stop his sibling. "Slow down. Let me talk first."

Remus heard his parents quiet them.

"Sirius is having some trouble understanding what people are saying. It takes a while for his mind to process the words and he also has some very slight amnesia that's making it a little hard for him to remember what some words mean. So when you talk just talk slowly like I am and you're going to have to make sure you talk clearly, especially through the phone."

"Why can't he understand the words?" Jules had slowed down but their slow was other peoples normal.

"Slower, kiddo. He hit his head pretty hard in the accident, like a really bad concussion. He also has some trouble talking and remembering words."

"Ohhh" Jules dragged out the word.

How are you feeling, Sirius?" Hope asked, speaking perfectly.

"I'm- good." Sirius told her.

"What injures are yours?" Jules sounded out each sylible.

"Can talk- faster-." Sirius laughed, trying hard to talk well.

"From Finns list and the doctors he was, broken leg, whiplash, brain injury, punctured lung, broken rib, and his spleen was ruptured in the crash and had to be removed but spleens aren't too necessary apparently."

"You don't have an organ?" Jules asked in awe.

"Nope" Sirius laughed.

"Well we'll leave you to get better." Hope said. "Don't be surprised if we show up in the next few days." They said their goodbyes loudly.

+++

"Okay?" Sirius asked when Leo walked in an hour later.

"Logan, uh, Logan had to go into surgery." he put his hands in the pockets of his, possibly Logans or maybe Finns, sweatshirt and bunched it up as he rocked on his heels.

"Why?" Remus asked.

"Misdiagnosed his heart and it was actually more serious than just a bruise. It was actually a tear or some-something. He- he flatlined while we were up there."

Cliffhanger I'm sorry

It's only gonna get angstier

@lumosinlove

[guessimwritingficsagain]

To be seen, part Three (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Summary : The birthday party comes and goes. You're pining but get a grim reminder that Frankie has a daughter (and a spouse ?). You want to take a step back from that blooming relationship but things don't go according to plan. You want to surprise Jessie with a nice present.

Author’s note : I rewrote this thing like 4 times but here we are. Just so we are clear, we are NOT about to have a lot triangle between OFC, Frankie, and random new character James. I just want OFC to have some wholesome relationships and to be her own person besides her new relationship with Frankie and the boys (which, btw, a writer, a friend of mine actually, told me "sometimes you write about what you can't have" and boy didn't that hurt because I'm currently in the process of grieving a friendship that could have been so good if not for the fact that we have very different ways of seeing friendship ... so I guess that James comes from that, a little). The former version had Frankie being more forward but I do like a slooooow burn and also it felt OOC.

Anyway,

the song Sweet is by Porridge Radio.

The song Canción sin Miedo is by Vivir Quintana.

The French radio that only plays women, trans and NB people is a real thing : it's called Radio Tempête and I like it very much. Give it a try !

There had been questions. Linda had grilled you hard and actually told you to go for it. It felt nice, all of it, up until you’d asked Linda why she was here. She'd grown sheepish.

« I need a new start. A change of pace. And I- I miss you, not, you know, like that, but I miss my friend, and I figured a new start with an old friend, that could be nice. »

You’d nodded, wondering if there was something she was not telling you, but figuring she’d get to it in her own time. In the meantime, she was here. And it was nice. She got along immediately with both Jessie and Anna and could make Phil laugh like no one else. Still, there were things that you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. You two had a history, just like you had with Jessie and Anna, but not the same kind and five years was a long time not to see each other.

That’s why you waited until Linda was playing with Clara to tell Jessie, quietly :

« That fifth guy who used to hang out with the boys ? »

Jessie looked surprised. She was usually the one fishing for information. You knew why you were telling her that : to share the epiphany you had, to remind her, and yourself, that these men were real people. And maybe, just maybe, to remind her in a way that there was a real world out there.

« He’s dead. »

The air grew quiet at that. You looked at her face. She nodded, juste the once. And then, never brought the boys up the way she used to. She asked for news, once in a while, but never again in the giddy way she used to do it.

———

Right. So maybe, maybe, you’d gone a little overboard with that birthday party, but the kid had lost her father a year ago and she deserved nice things.

Right ?

They didn’t have to know the bar didn’t actually own fancy, festive plates and an army of balloons. Besides, everybody had pitched in. And Phil had made an extra nice menu. It’d been a team effort, really. Except that when Linda came in to grab a coffee after work - she was working at the local bookstore and that made your heart clench a little - she raised her eyebrows and said :

« You said seventeen, right ? Because I think you’re going for seven, here. »

So. You were a bit nervous, which, what the hell ?? They weren’t your friends. They were paying consumers. Except you were fooling yourself there because you were pretty sure that paying consumers didn’t quite cover it.

But when Santi came in with her, the girl swallowed by a huge scarf to protect her from November’s chilly air, you saw the smile on her face, you knew it’d been worth it. Santi actually came and hugged you and whispered « thank you, Starbuck » before giving Anna a high-five.

Yeah, the Starbuck thing had stuck. And you might have started calling Santiago Santi.

You were introduced to the birthday girl -Sarah- who was lovely and perhaps, you realized quickly, a tiny bit smitten with Anna, in a when-I-grow-up-I-wanna-be-her kind of way. Anna, of course, was completely oblivious. They sat down at the counter first, waiting for their friends to get here, her with a coke, him with a beer, and you were content to just let them be. It was a moment you felt was too private for your tentative relationship.

Sarah hugged Frankie as he came in and you did not let your mind wonder what it would feel like. Beers to serve. Mind out of the gutter. But he came to find you, and he looked at you with those soft eyes and he leaned in a bit and you couldn’t help but smile. And he smiled back, elbows on the counter, so close.

« You didn’t have to do all that. »

His voice was barely a whisper, and you answered the same way :

« I know. »

He was looking at you like he was seeing you and you got that warm feeling again, at the center of your belly. There was nothing, for a few seconds, except his brown eyes, until Anna cleared her throat and you were reminded you were at work. You turned back to get a beer for Frankie, but were interrupted again by a hand on your arm. Anna was looking at you and asked, as quietly as possible :

« What was that ? »

Her eyes were kind, there was no teasing in her voice but you shrugged the question off anyway. You didn’t know what that was. And it wasn’t the time nor the place.

———

The birthday party had been a success, and the night would have been perfect if not for Phil’s pragmatism. He knew you, he could tell, and your little admission a while back, when under the fire of Linda’s questioning that maybe you had a tiny little crush hadn’t fooled him.

Oh, the mortifying ordeal of being known.

He’d came up to you when you’d been cleaning the coffee machine and he’d said :

« He has a kid, you know that. »

He’d left it at that, knowing it was enough.

And that was just the thing, right : you knew. And with kids usually came a spouse. He probably had a lovely one, someone pretty and smart and funny and soft just like he was. So you’d decided to take some emotional distance, just to keep it professional. Paying costumers, after all.

Of course you were fooling yourself, you were protecting yourself from something that had the possibility to break you heart. And that, that was the worst part, the scary part, because you remembered vividly not thinking about Linda that way and then she’d said I like you, I really like you, you know, in a way that makes me want to make out with you. And you’d realized you liked her in a way that made you want to make out with her too. Back then the closet had been a thing, a hard one to get out of, even though your parents loved you unconditionally, no matter how many tattoos they disapproved of covered your body, no matter who you dated. You just hadn’t realized what you’d felt for her until she’d spelled it out for you. It’d been beautiful and simple and safe.

Here, though, you were thirsting on a man a tiny bit older than you, who had a daughter, who was probably married. And you’d been avoiding thinking about that, and he never mentioned anyone. But you knew you needed to get a grip on those spiraling feelings.

You needed to refocus, and in doing so, you realized something that filled you with shame and guilt : you’d overlooked Jessie entirely. The Christmas Holidays were coming up and you hadn’t made any plans with her. You’d been so caught up in your world that, for the first time in years, you forgot about her. The fact she worked day shifts and you night shifts now meant that you saw less of each other. And since Linda got here, and the boys were around more, and you didn’t need to babysit Clara as much, you’d seen even less of her.

But you had a plan.

———

The plan showed up on your doorstep a few days later, greeting you when you opened the door with :

« I hope you finally threw away that ugly couch and that the new one is comfortable. »

Here he stood, in all of his stupid glory : James. Their parents probably had a weird sense of humor to call their first born Jessie and their second one James. Or maybe you had a weird sense of humor for noticing it.

Here’s a bit of a backstory : James was your age, and you’d actually been friends since you were ten. Attached-to-the-hip kind of friends. I-don’t-care-about-anyone-else kind of friends. He used to be your only friend, back then, because he was just enough. Jessie, being five years older, had no real interest in you whatsoever so you only befriended her later, when her ass of an ex-husband skipped town and you got a panicked call from James one morning asking if you could help his sister to find a job because she used to be a stay-at-home mom and now she really needed the cash. James couldn’t come home to help her, so you’d had to help Jessie. Not that it’d been a problem.

And James, James was spectacular in the way he never settled for anything. He’d left home to go to Harvard and then became a bloody CIA agent because why not. Except he hadn’t liked that so he’d quit the bloody CIA and opened a restaurant in Washington. The President of the United States of America ate there, on a regular basis.

(Sometimes, when life got too hard and you got too caught up in your own mind, and you felt you weren’t enough, you wondered why a man like that bothered to skype you twice a month, and one time, drunk and alone on your birthday, you’d left him a voicemail asking him that very thing and he’d given you so much shit for that you never asked again. You were his girl, forever and always.)

So you’d called him, explained the whole Jessie thing, and the guilt that came with it.

Now there he was, ready to hide in your apartment while you got everything set to give your girl Jessie the surprise she deserved. You let Phil and Anna in on the secret that was James, just so he could come to the bar when he wanted and no one would tell Jessie about it.

That’s how you found yourself jumping slightly at the abrupt change of a song, one night at the bar, and you declared, knowing who it was :

« Costumers don’t get to change the music. »

The only answer you got was a laugh. You turned around to see James, bending over the counter to get to the computer, all crinkled eyes and white teeth.

« Don’t tell me you don’t like hearing Sweet. » He quipped.

« I like that song », you explained as you secretly rejoiced in hearing the familiar notes. « But that doesn’t mean you get to play anything you want. I know you, you get too comfortable. »

He sat down at the bar, a bit away from the boys who were joking and laughing at the counter. Benny had won his fight and got a girl’s number so it was a good night for him, the kind of night you didn’t want to intrude on. Except you wished you could, and that, that was a red flag in itself because usually, when James was around, there was nobody else in the world but you still thought about Frankie, about how you wished you were sitting on the other side of the counter, pressed against him, laughing at whatever it was that had been said. Paying consumers, right ?

You’d been serving beers left and right, only stopping a moment to get another round to the boys when you heard :

« Where the fuck is that French radio playlist ? You know, radio that only plays songs by women, trans and non-binary people ? I know you have one, can’t seem to find it. »

« James. »

You turned around. He was standing behind the counter.

« How on earth did you get there ? »

« I jumped. You were busy, didn’t see it. Anyway. That playlist ? There’s some good shit on that. Though we might want to avoid the songs too obviously sexual, right ? »

You let out the biggest sigh. Of course he'd jumped. Of course he’d find that absolutely normal. You waived him away and got to find the playlist.

« I wanna hear Canción sin Miedo. » He added, all but propped up on the counter.

« Get down. Also your accent is shit. » You hissed. You complied, though.

As the Mexican song started playing, Will gave you a look.

« That’s Jessie’s brother. » You explained, your voice still a touch exasperated.

« But that’s a secret. » James added, still very much sitting on the counter. He smiled and said : « Hi, I’m James. Like Bond. James Bond. Nobody ever saw the two of us in the same room, by the way. »

He winked and you ugly snorted.

———

The noise was overwhelming and the place reeked of beer and sweat but Anna was steering you gently through the crowd and Linda’s hand was grounding, on your shoulder. MMA fights were not your scene but Benny had asked and Anna had said yes before you could get a word in. You’d called Linda in a panic, muttering you know how I get in crowded spaces and she’d offered to come.

You still didn’t know how Anna managed to get your boss to give you both the day off for that but you were glad.

You heard Benny come in more than you saw him, and Anna guided you to the place where Santi, Frankie and Will were. Santi made a jab at Linda, who laughed it off and introduced herself at the others. She was blending in with ease, as always. You, though, felt lost, until you sensed someone right next to you. Lifting your head, you saw Frankie hand you a drink, before his hand came and gently grabbed your arm, guiding you to a sit right next to him.

« You okay ? » he asked in your ear, close enough that you could feel his breath, his hand still on your arm.

You explained right in his own ear :

« Crowed spaces. »

You felt his hand give a squeeze and, without thinking, tapped his thigh in a way you hoped would convey your thanks. Then, you held onto your drink for dear life, as Benny started beating the shit out of the other guy.

———

Benny was breaking down his fight, as the other men pitched in with a comment, once in a while. You hadn't exactly enjoyed the fight, but Frankie's presence and explanations had made the whole thing better. You drew the line, though, at debriefing, so you turned to Linda :

« So, how was your date ? »

« Nice. »

« Nice ? Just nice ? But she was bloody gorgeous. You showed me pictures ! »

You weren’t as quiet as you thought you were because next think you knew, Anna was leaning in, wiggling eyebrows, and the rest of the table grew awfully quiet. You turned to see all the eyes on you.

« Who was bloody gorgeous ? » Santi inquired.

« My date. »

Everybody was listening, now. You motioned her to go ahead.

« Well, her yoga lessons came in handy, if you know what I mean but … yeah … yoga. Pilates. Rabbit food. »

« Well, you still got her to do some yoga » you replied with a wink.

That got Anna to spit her drink.

« She was plenty good at that, but, yeah. »

She shrugged and too a sip of her beer.

« Wait, she ?»

So yeah, Santi hadn’t caught on the Linda’s a lesbian train yet. Though to be fair, he’d seen her once, twice counting tonight.

« Got a problem with that ? » Linda asked.

You felt the tension roll off of her and you couldn’t blame her. You never really knew how people were going to take your coming out, no matter how well you knew the person. And she didn’t know Santi at all.

He hurriedly shook his head.

« No, I just didn’t expect it, is all. »

He lit up, then, and you could almost see the bad idea that came to his mind.

(Maybe you were starting to know him after all.)

« I could be your wingman, and you my wingwoman. »

« No fucking way, Santiago. »

You laughed as you listened to Linda give a few more details, sweet Anna beaming in awe as the discussion went to Linda’s great adventures in dating.

« So, you’re a serial dater. » the younger woman exclaimed.

« She was never good at settling » you confirmed.

Linda turned to you and, with mock outrage, asked :

« Never good at settling ? Do those two years with you mean nothing ? »

You laughed and she laughed and Anna laughed and Benny all but shrieked :

« You two dated ??? »

That only made your belly clench even more, the laughter an unstoppable force, Linda warm by your side, Anna crying from laughter, Santi and his existential crisis because he’d hit on a lesbian and suddenly everything made sense because nobody said no to Santiago - at least that was what your were feeling he was thinking. And Benny, just confused, said :

« I didn’t know you swung that way. »

The sentence was meant for you, you knew that, but before you could calm down, another voice, one you’d recognize anywhere, anytime, answered for you :

« Oh, she swings every fucking way, right, baby ? »

You turned around sharply and there he was, again, James. Right on time. He settled right next to you, his warmth a comforting presence. You swallowed the anxiety down. Everything would be alright.

And everything was.

Because fifteen minutes later, Jessie was coming in, Clara in her arms, wondering what the emergency Phil called about was. You would forever remember the look on her face when she saw her brother sitting right there. The blinding smile, the way James took Clara in his arms and cooed.

It was going to be a good night (again).

———

« That was real nice of you », Frankie mumbled. « What you did back there, with Jessie and her bother. »

You’d stepped out to have a smoke and he’d joined you, hands in pockets, just standing there, not close enough to touch you but close enough that you could feel him.

« You two seem close », he stated after a bit.

That wasn’t jealousy. That you could tell.

« He’s my best friend, I guess. »

« He seems nice », Frankie stated. « A bit over the top but then again, I’m friends with Pope so … »

You had a flashback, then, of your first encounter with Benny, and asked :

« What’s with the nicknames anyway ? »

« We served … » Frankie started. You cut him off.

« Yeah, I know, but. What does it mean ? »

Frankie just smiled, then, took a step closer to you, shoulders brushing. You felt hot, all of a sudden.

« A callsign is trust » he explained and then quietly added :

« Starbuck »

You managed to keep it together. You kept it together because paying consumers. You kept it together because that man had a daughter and was probably married and what he’d just said was said out of friendliness.

[nocturne-pisces]

I’m the fucking lizard king- (1)

Summary: The idea that if you repeatedly bash your head into a brick wall, eventually the brick wall will love you back.

Pairing: OC!AFAB/NB!ChaoticDumbass (but described vague enough to be reader)xTFATWS!Bucky

Word Count: 762 

Warnings: for this chapter? just bad language and existentialism. 

A/N: welcome to the shit show. void is a character i’m working in a novel for.

[if you want you can pretend there’s a cover image here, but i’m too dumb for photoshop]

The notebook that Dr. Raynor took notes with, more to prove a point than to write anything, in her sessions with Bucky laid across her thigh as her pen scratched notes about how childish he was being. Bucky kept refusing to answer questions, or flat out lied to her, and her battlefield tried patience was wearing eerily thin. 

“Jesus Christ, this again? I thought we were past the passive aggression?”

“If you don’t talk, or if you lie,” she added, knowing that he would try to worm his way around her rules, “then I write. That’s how it’s been from the beginning, James.”

“Alright, alright. Put the pen down,” he surrendered. Bucky let out a chest-rattling sigh, the kind that made your ribs feel empty.

“So again, I’ll ask. How are the missions with Sam and V going?” Christina placed her pen in it’s holder on the notebook and set it to the side, folding her hands in her lap and training her gaze on Bucky.

“Good. They’re going really well. Sam is as annoying as usual, too much optimism for someone who’s been arrested by the federal government and spent two years on the run,” he shared, his eyes fixed on where he was toying with the seam on his gloves. Sharing his feelings and eye contact wasn’t something that he’d worked up to yet. 

“And V?”

Void, or V for short, was a new team member. Someone that they’d found in Madripoor with connections to information on the soldier serum and the power broker and incredibly too much sugar in their system at all times. Team mate might not be the right phrasing, either, because it wasn’t like they’d ever gotten an invitation to the team officially. Void, more or less, just thought the two of them were entertaining and decided to tag along. The usefulness they provided on missions was more a side effect than an intended outcome. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, a familiar flush creeping up the back of his neck as a whole new wave of irritation crashed over him. 

“Void is -- fuck, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know how you feel about them as a teammate?”

“I don’t know how I feel about them as anything to me, doc.”

“Sounds like your thoughts run deeper than you’re willing to say.”

________________________________________________________________

Bucky’s phone had buzzed a total of eight times while he was in that appointment. Once he was on the street and headed back to his own block, he pulled it out of his pocket and went over the barrage of text messages from Void. 

V: do you think there are aliens who think they’re the only sentient beings in the universe?

V: what if the earth is flat but it’s like a coin and edges are rounded so you never like fall off the edge or whatever and the sail from one side to another never looks like a disc? 

V: bucky these are important questions please respond :(

V: i’m going to start sending you memes you wont understand unless you reply to me in the next five minutes. >:|

V: two more minutes boinky, i swear to britney i’ll do it >:(

V: i’m literally an angel i don’t understand why you hate me so much :’(

V: [image attached]

V: [image attached]

Bucky gripped his phone willing his patience to reappear before he snapped it in half. When he looked back down at the screen he noticed that the bubble with the three dots had appeared, signaling that Void was typing again. 

Bucky: if you don’t shut the fuck up i am going to choke you to death

V: FUCKO!!!

V: finally you replied. i thought you left out of the back door and i wouldn’t get to see how irritated you were.

Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together, looking up and down the street to find where Void was stalking him from. He couldn’t see them, couldn’t tell where they were hiding, but he felt eyes on him like lasers.

V: there’s no point in looking for me, you know i’m way better at hiding than you

Bucky: where the fuck are you, i’m coming to kick your ass

V: Dr. Raynor would be very dissapointed to hear you say that

Bucky: excuse me? you know about my therapy sessions?

V: google is my friend, dumbass.

Bucky: you better pray i don’t find you, v

V: but jaaaaaames you never hang out with me. i have to go all yandere just to even pretend we’re friends

Bucky: we’re not friends

V: 

Bucky: found you. two buildings over. south wall. your ass is grass.

V: AND I OOP

Before Bucky could break out in a dead sprint, his arm itching to get Void in a headlock, his phone vibrated again.

Sam: Why was I just emailed V’s last will and testament? 

______________________________________________________________

A/N: I’m not smart enough to keep up with tag lists. :)

[nah-she-didnt]

okay, so all i want is for remus to have a crush on reader or whoever . you can do absolutely anything with this remus just has a really big crush on her and he notices things about her personality and all. fluff because I also want them to like kiss at the end of this all.

Okay here’s the deal anon, I owe you an apology because I’m almost certain that the following story is not what you had in mind. I headcanon that Sirius is gay and Remus is bisexual or pansexual (I also headcanon that Tonks is NB, and I do ship Remadora to a point, but that’s beside the point). So while this might not be exactly what you intended, it’s the story that came to me, so I hope you enjoy! 

Please Send Me Prompts My Inbox Is Sad And Empty 

Firsts

In the three previous years, James had partnered with Sirius in Herbology and Remus with Peter. This was generally how lesson pairs broke down between the four friends, partly because James and Sirius had so much fun goofing off together and partly because Remus wanted to actually concentrate on the professor during lessons. Fourth year, however, was different. 

The first day of classes began like any other. The bright September sun followed the four of them across the grounds into Greenhouse 2 for their first Herbology lesson of term.

“I hope we do Devil’s Snare this year,” Sirius grinned mischievously. 

“God, I don’t,” Peter paled, “imagine if it got you and never let go.” 

“Don’t worry, Pete,” James beamed as he threw glances to the group of Gryffindor girls ahead of them, also on their way to Herbology, “we’d visit you all the time, bring you biscuits, everything.” 

“Fuck off,” grumbled Pete. He’d been in a foul mood all day after their disastrous first Potions lesson where he’d managed to melt his brand-new cauldron. 

“Someone’s grumpy!” Sirius declared as they crossed the threshold into Greenhouse 2, “don’t worry, Pete, I’ll tell you a joke to cheer you up. Have you ever heard about the troll, the hag, and the leprechaun who all go into a bar-” 

“Remus?” 

Remus doubled back, not sorry to miss the rest of Sirius’ joke. Amelia Bones stood a few feet away, wearing a pretty blue hair ribbon to match her Ravenclaw tie. She was twisting her hands nervously over her stomach, and he noticed that she was blushing slightly. The effect the flush had underneath her freckles was quite nice. 

“Hi Amelia,” he squeaked, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “what’s up? How was your summer?” 

“Erm, not bad,” she smiled sweetly up at him, “I was wondering if…” 

“Oi, Remus!” Sirius called across the room, “Pete saved you a seat.” James and Peter snickered behind Sirius, clearly in on the joke to make him look a fool in front of Amelia.

Remus waved them off and turned his attention back to Amelia. “Sorry, ignore them. What were you wondering?” 

She went from pink to red at his words. “I was wondering if… you wanted to be my Herbology partner this year.” 

Remus blinked. “Oh,” he said, unsure if he understood her properly, “um, yeah, alright. You mean all year?” 

She looked stunned at his words. “Oh, yeah, if you wanted…” 

“I do,” he said quickly. To his annoyance, he felt his hand fly to his hair, just like James did when he talked to a girl. “Yeah. I’d like that, Amelia.” 

She beamed at him. “Great! Well, I guess we should get on with it, then,” and she gestured to a pair of empty chairs. 

--

And so they sat together in the Greenhouse. Their conversations were awkward at first. They kept running into long pauses between their feeble attempts at small talk. Remus always kicked himself when he couldn’t decide what to say. He couldn’t tell too many stories, so much of his life had to be kept secret. He couldn’t very well tell her why he looked so tired that one Wednesday after the Full Moon, nor where he had gotten a particularly nasty scar that stretched across the back of his right hand. He was sure she’d get bored of him eventually, but lesson after lesson there she was, smiling from the seat next to him. She didn’t seem to care that he had little to say, because after a few weeks she talked enough for the both of them. 

She told him about her mother’s work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Remus braced himself at this. He knew that the Department was none too friendly towards werewolves, but the topic never came up. She told him that she wanted to head the Department herself someday. 

“Yeah?” he grinned, “you want to work in magical law?” 

She smiled as she misted a rosebush with a spray bottle. “It’s the only thing I can imagine doing, you know, with everything that’s going on.” 

Remus nodded. That was one of the things he liked about Amelia. She had parents in the Ministry. She knew about the war that was surely coming, and she wasn’t afraid. She’d told him once that she’d give her life to protect others if it came to it. 

“Sounds like you should have been in Gryffindor,” he’d told her at this.

“Nah,” she laughed, “you lot are too aggressive. Give me a book over a fight any day.” 

Remus pretended to look wounded. “Not all of us are like that.” 

He stopped his work on the engorged Venus Flytrap in front of him and glanced sideways at her. Her large blue eyes studied him carefully as if she were making up her mind. “No,” she almost whispered, “I suppose you’re not, are you?” 

--

That night in the Common Room found the boys sitting around the roaring fire. James and Sirius played a game of Exploding Snap while Peter watched, clapping his hands and cheering loudly when one of the players had a particularly impressive move. Remus stared into the fire, the book he had been reading lay forgotten in his lap. 

“Moony,” James called, waking Remus from his daydream about Herbology that day, “what’s got your face look all crumpled like that?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” grumbled Sirius, “Bones. Again. Am I wrong?” 

Remus was sure his cheeks had turned dark red at this comment. “No.”

Sirius grimaced. “See? Told you.” 

James laughed out loud. “Remus? In love? I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Not in love,” Remus argued, trying to regain some of his dignity, “in….like, I suppose.” 

“Like...you want to shag her brains out, do you mean?” Peter chuckled. 

“Don’t be gross,” Remus tossed his book at Peter’s head, which unfortunately missed. “She’s funny, that’s all.” 

“Funny?” Said Sirius incredulously, “I’ve never heard her be funny.” 

“Have you ever even talked to her?” Remus frowned. He didn’t know why Sirius was being so nasty.

“‘Course I have,” Sirius muttered, “she seems boring if you ask me.” 

“Well, good thing no one asked you, then,” Remus snapped. He wasn’t interested in dealing with one of Sirius’ moods today. Amelia was a nice girl. She had a good heart and she cared about the things Remus cared about. Sirius was just jealous for whatever reason. 

Sirius jumped to his feet. “Well, if you’re going to blab on about her all night, I’m going to bed.” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “What, and deprive us of your pleasant company?” 

Sirius glared at him, then stomped off up the stairs. 

James stared after his friend. “What was that about?” 

“No idea,” Remus gestured to Peter for his book back, then went back to pretending to read in front of the fire. Really, if Sirius had a problem with Amelia, who cared. 

But he did care. 

--

The ground had frozen solid already, a sure sign that winter approached. Amelia had insisted that they study for their Herbology exam down by the black lake. He wasn’t sure why they had to be outside, but she’d lit a fire that floated several inches above the blanket she laid out for them which provided a buffer of warmth against the brisk wind. 

“Name the Kingdom, Order, and Family of Crataegus, give its common name, and list its magical properties,” Amelia recited from her textbook. 

Remus screwed up his face in concentration. 

“Let’s see...Crataegus, also known as Hawthorn, Kingdom is Plantae, Order is Rosales, and Family is Rosaceae. In ancient times Muggles believed the Hawhotrn had magical properties of rebirth and fertility, and Wizards use its elements in draughts to strengthen the heart,” He glanced at Amelia, “how’d I do?” 

“Brilliant,” she beamed, snapping her book shut. She stretched her legs so that her shoeless feet reached towards the Black Lake. “Let’s take a break, I’m exhausted.” 

“Up all night reading, were you?” he teased.

She tried her best not to smile, but the corners of her mouth gave her away. “If you must know… yes. I couldn’t put down our Transfiguration textbook.” 

Remus gaped at her. “Oh come on!” he laughed, “there’s being studious, and there’s being a bloody nerd!” 

She looked at him in disbelief. “Traitor! I would have thought you, of all people, would understand.” Something changed in her face when she said this. She seemed to grow softer, more earnest. She looked at him as if he were supposed to gain some greater understanding from her words. 

Remus laughed nervously. “Well, I like bloody nerds.” 

“Yeah?” she whispered. She drew closer to him by the second, her eyes boring into his. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. He knew what she wanted from him, and he was pretty sure he wanted it too. 

Their lips met across the space between them. Her skin was warm, and her lips moved naturally against his own. It was a nice feeling, and he kissed her back with interest. His stomach swooped when she gently tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth. He lifted a hand to her cheek and rested it there, gently pulling her closer. 

--

“You WHAT?” 

Remus did not look up from his book. “We kissed. Alright?” 

James stared at him open-mouthed. “How!” he howled, like a child who had a toy taken away by a fed-up parent, “how are you the first one to kiss a girl of the four of us? You’re afraid of girls!” 

“Apparently not,” Remus grinned despite himself. It was true, he’d never been a flirt. But it seemed that James’ strategy of annoying girls until they liked him hadn’t quite paid off yet. 

“And how was it?” Sirius barked across the room from his spot on his four-poster. He still had that strange, hard edge to his voice. He’d been that way for a few weeks now. 

Remus shrugged. “It was nice.” 

“Just nice?” cried Peter, who looked like he was about to explode, “Come on, we need more than that!” 

Remus thought back to the moment down by the lake. “It was...unexpected.” 

“Was it everything you’d ever dreamed of?” Sirius drawled in a bored voice. 

Remus shot him a dirty look. “And if it was?” 

Sirius scoffed. “I doubt it.” 

“Look,” Remus said angrily, “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m sick of this. You’ve been sulking around me for weeks. I don’t know if it’s jealousy, or-”

“Jealous?” Sirius’ eyes flashed with anger, “you think I’m jealous of her?” 

Remus faltered. “No,” he stammered, “I meant-” 

But Sirius cut him off. “Of course, I didn’t mean,” he took a breath, “I just don’t want you lording it over the rest of us, alright? That you’ve got a girlfriend, or whatever. Us Marauders have more important things to think about.” And with that, Sirius tore the hangings around his bed closed with a huff. 

Remus stared at the spot Sirius had been feeling shaken. What had Sirius meant, “you think I’m jealous of her?” 

“Let him sleep it off, mate,” James said uneasily, glancing at the closed hangings around his friend’s bed, “he’s just in a mood.” 

“Fuck off, James,” Sirius called from out of sight. 

James sighed, threw Remus one more apologetic look, then began to get ready for bed. 

Remus sat quite still for a moment. Just minutes ago he could think of nothing but Amelia. Now, Sirius filled his brain. They fought so rarely, it was hard to believe that his kiss with Amelia had made Sirius so angry. After a while, Remus realized he was the last boy awake in the dormitory. Confused and upset, he got to his feet and turned out the light.