#break up fic

[skyrigel]

Break-up

Characters : Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini. Pancy Parkinson ( background )

How Slytherin boys will react when you ask them for break up.

Warning : might be toxic, alcoholism, possesive and obsessive behaviour, Reader feels they are too much ( in Blaise Zabini hc, you can skip that )

Mattheo Riddle

He's not going to listen a word so don't even bother.

He will shut you up real quick in more than one way, speaking too loud, cutting you mid, changing topics and rushing to classes that don't even exist and his most favourite, kissing you.

He would kiss you so hard that every thought inside your head would evaporate in fuzzy vapour, the bubbles in your head popping with each moan that would escape your throat.

“You were saying something?” He would ask so wickedly, amused with the dumb look you have plastered on your face and relishing while your fumble within words.

“ I don't think it's important." He would take your hand, kissing the inside of your palm, his sweet words vibrating through your skin.

“ yeah, not important.”

Draco Malfoy

Ofcourse he would be a nonchalant bastard about it, despite the brimming tears at the inside of his eyes.

“ oh, fancy potter now, don't you ? ” he would snarl, accusingly, his voice harsh and contempt choking him.

Draco would do everything wrong, say the wrong things, do even more.

He would start by parading Pancy around, so desperate that he would also accept Miss Greengrass's date invite.

But he would also cry, as soon as the facade will crumble, he would grip the sink till his knuckles went white, face wet and red with tears that wouldn't stop.

Then a word with his mother would do the miracle and the next thing you know would be a very drunk Draco howling and sobbing his undying love for you, refusing to leave and would make everyone listen how much he loves you, and how you belong with him.

“ Draco.” you winced at the grimness left behind after dries tears, softening.

“ Go back to your dorm.”

“ kiss me night and i'll go.” Draco slurred, you were pretty sure you smiled as soon as he said 'fight' instead of night.

“No.”

“ Yes!” He would lean down at you, pouting, and how much you loved this boy, all his tantrums, all his shenanigans. Your pretty, smart and silly boyfriend.

“Okay.” you breathed, pecking his cheek, tasting his tears and how much you hated it.

“ I'll be good...good for you.” he will be, you thought.

Tom Riddle

“ You decided that yourself ? ” Tom would whisper ever so dangerously, pressing closer, you could hear the pitch silence outside the tapestry.

“ It's not... It's not working Tom.” you knew he loved you but he was gone half the time, half the time with books that were too bold and dark, of magic that was malicious beyond your wits.

“ yeah ? ” He would smear his thumb across your face, kneading your cheek and you tried your best to stay quiet but the arousal that lurched inside you, just by his mere touch, sometimes just the way he looked at you, like he was part of your soul.

Tom would smirk, delighted when you moaned for him like that, he wasn't accepting at first how you drived his crazy just by existing. He wouldn't let you go, never ever.

“ I want to bury my soul into you.” His nose mapping your neck, taking your scent.

“ oh.” you trembled when his hands worked their way inside your shirt, cold rings blazing in your warm flesh.

“ But it will take time my darling.” his disappointment flushed when he looked up at you, breathless and hot under him.

“ so for now...” his mouth twitched, Head boy Tom Riddle, sinking to his knees, eyes glinting so bright. Oh how much he wishes to mingle your souls together, how much.

Theodore Nott

He's going to sensible, furrowing hard but listen when you tell him all the reasons how it could'nt work , he's considerate enough to pat your back, soothing you, when you break down in between.

“ If you need time baby, then I'll be patient.” he would say, kissing your forehead.

He wouldn't sit next to you in classes despite his soul wanting to crawl out of his body and embrace you.

Theo only sometimes snuggled next to you in armchair, you couldn't even blame him for it was too cold

He was on his best behaviour ignoring the totally 'accidental' beat ups of guys who were going to ask you or almost did, but in either way they never showed up.

“ I see you aren't dating anyone.” He would make no attempt to get up from your lap, discarding your homework with a swish of his wand.

“ shut up, or i will pour this ink pot on you.” you would bristle like a cat, it was inevitable not to card your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp, he relaxed into your touch, chuckling.

“ It wasn't me.”

You sighed, looking at the bruised knuckles because your baby wasn't even trying to be subtle. He could have used his wand, phew.

“ c'mon, now can we please date again ? ” He would look up with puppy eyes, sticking out his lower lip to look extra cute. Shit, you shouldn't have told him that.

“ You guys stopped dating ? ” Draco asked, brow raised in question.

“ hey.” His fingers reached to trace your jaw, arching a little as you gaped a soft, ‘Theo’

“ Please, please, please.” He pleaded, his chin raised, as if he could claim your lips just like that.

“ Get yourself a room ! ” Pancy snapped, Theo only sneered while you looked away flushed pink.

“ Theo, stop.” you whined, when he got up, hawling you up in his arms as you wacked him repeatedly.

“ I've been a good boy.” he would mouth, smiling when you would hide your blush in the crook of his neck.

“ The only thing I am interested in breaking with you,” a pause, “ is my bed.”

Blaise Zabini

“ What did I do wrong ? ” that's his first question and you're already guilty.

“ It's just everything is so messy Zab, it's too much for me.”

He couldn't say anything more, the lump in his throat strangling each sound that passed between his cartilage.

“ Blaise...” you whispered when his whole face, that shined brighter than the whole sky withered away.

“ Hey...” you cooed and nudged him lightly and it was enough to break free the sob that grasped his chest, his whole heart. He hiccuped before large tears streamed down his coppery skin, gleaming in the basking glow of midnight.

“ Don't... please..d.. don't ” he sobbed harder, his whole body shaking.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer till your heart were crossed.

“ I am too much Blaise... Like a black hole.” you could never take away his glisten, never.

“ I love you.” he said, wrapping himself around you, closing his eyes as tear escaped and brushed against your clothes, love lorned and love sick.

“ I love you too.” because how could you not say it back ? When he loved you like you were the most precious one to him.

You will try, try your best and let him shine, protect him from your drakness, you have to try your best.

New Mattheo fic - Don't blame me

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[typicalopposite]

wip wednesday <3

so I have been tagged by quite a few people (thank you all 🫶 @desert--moonchild @bidisasterevankinard @onthewaytosomewhere @lavenderleahy -- got bamboozled by @sunnywithachanceofbi -- @judymarch15 @marvelousbuckley @tailsbeth-writes @cafe-con-letty & @theotherbuckley ... and that's going back a month) over the span of... a time for different things... lol I have not been keeping up with the games I have been tagged in like I use to... its been a messy life! BUT I'm finally catching up by sharing (quite a bit of) not an already established wip... but a new one! you know, now that we are all collectively in our grieving/fix-it era <3 so consider yourselves -- eyes Chrissy -- tagged back!

take me back - tommy amnesia fic

Tommy cracks his eyes open, fully expecting to be met with that damned water stain on his ceiling he keeps meaning to get looked at — when the spot caves in on him he’s going to regret it — but for the past six months his mind has been on… other things. Regardless, this is not the sight he is met with, and he looks up in confusion at the garage ceiling instead. He blinks a few times before realizing that he’s laying on the cold concrete floor. It takes just a moment longer before he is overcome by a splitting headache and his vision blurs. 

“What the fuck…” he groans, forcing himself to sit up. He reaches for his head, unable to pinpoint where exactly the pain is radiating from; he feels it throughout his entire skull... it’s in his eyes, his temples, all the way down into his neck. He’s not even sure what happened. If he passed out; if he tripped… Why was he even in the garage when he was supposed to be getting ready. The room feels like it’s spinning, and he feels waves of nausea wash over him. He doubts he’ll be able to stand up unassisted, so he crawls over to his workout bench and uses it for support. 

He almost crumples back to the floor from the vertigo he gets from rising to his feet, but he holds tight to the pull bar and takes a few deep breaths until it finally subsides. He opens his eyes again, relieved his vision has cleared, and tries to take a step. His legs are wobbly but he manages to remain stable and upright as he crosses the garage and walks back into his house. 

That’s when he realizes it’s already getting dark. Shit. He was supposed to be getting ready! He goes for his phone but it’s not in his pocket, so he slowly makes his way to his room, except it’s not on the charger either— 

And his bed spread is different… 

His bed spread is—

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut as the headache continues to get worse. “Fuuuck…” he drawls out, once again reaching for his head. He needs to get medicine, to find his phone, and to get out the door or he is going to be late. He can’t be late tonight. Tonight is special.

Another deep breath and he takes another step, towards the bathroom this time. He pulls the medicine cabinet door open, eyes going to the middle shelf where he keeps his ibuprofen… and finds a prescription— two prescriptions actually. He stares at the little orange bottles, both made out to him… one is acetaminophen-- and since he doesn’t have time to figure out why they are there-- he ignores the second and just takes the prescribed dose of the pain medicine and recloses the door. 

All he has to do now is to find his damn phone. 

It’s not in the kitchen, or on the coffee table, or out in his truck, or buried in the couch cushions… The last place he goes is back into the garage; lo and behold it’s there. The problem? It’s shattered. How it got shattered he doesn’t know. Possibly from his fall. 

He tries the side button and the screen lights up. It’s five thirty; he needs to go. He tries to carefully input his passcode: 5724. It doesn’t work. He tries it again. Still nothing. One more time and then another… he assumes the problem is the broken screen, but the phone disables for one minute and he doesn't have time to keep trying. Oh well, he can just leave now, and be there a little early. It’s not like it actually matters if he’s early, anyway. 

He goes back into the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror— reels at the images looking back because, damn. His eyes are bloodshot with dark circles and his face is puffy and drained of all color as if he’s been crying. Has he been crying? He pushes the thought aside and takes out his eye drops, dropping a couple into each eye and wincing from the pain tilting his head back causes. The medicine will kick in soon, the headache will subside. He will be early… but when is extra time with his boyfriend a bad thing?

*

He parks and climbs out of his truck, the remnants of his headache finally starting to fade away. He takes the stairs two at a time once he’s inside the building, getting that giddy little pep in his step he always gets the moment he reaches Evan’s floor. He strides down the hallway, feeling light on his feet— like he’s floating on air. He reaches the door, lifts his hand and raps against the wood… once, twice, and three times. 

There’s a quiet commotion from inside, accompanied by the sounds of voices— plural, so someone else is here. Tommy tries to think about whether Evan said he had any plans prior to their date… he can’t remember. It doesn’t matter. He bounces on the balls of his feet, feeling his heart pick up in speed as footsteps get closer to the door. The lock turns, the knob twists and the door opens. 

Tommy can feel the tug of his smile spreading high up onto his cheeks. “Hey—”

“Uhm… Hi?” A voice that’s not Evan’s replies— Tommy stares at a face that is not Evan’s… A man he doesn’t recognize; dressed in comfortable clothes-- practically sleep clothes-- with tousled hair and a sated look that instantly has Tommy feeling some type of way. He tilts his head to see the number on the door, thinking maybe he came to the wrong apartment. He didn’t, and so he’s left thoroughly confused at who this stranger is and why he looks so… comfortable in his boyfriend’s home. “Tommy, right?” The guy continues. He lets his eyes travel over Tommy, like he’s studying him, keeping a careful and friendly enough smile on his face. 

“Wha- uh, I’m… sorry. Do I know you?” 

“Doubt it. But I have heard plenty about you…” The voice is suave; his tone is flat but not necessarily cold. Who the fuck even is—

“Dylan?” That is Evan’s voice… Tommy peers around this guy— around Dylan to see his boyfriend come bopping off the stairs. “Who is it— oh… T- Tommy?!” Evan’s face blanks, and his arms stall just as he was starting to slip them around this— this— Dylan’s waist. Tommy thinks he might actually be sick. Evan looks just as debauched, in his gray sweatpants and no shirt— sweat glistening over his bare chest leaves very little to be imagined of what the two were up to before he knocked. He finally truly looks at Dylan and the shirt is Evan’s… his oversized faded Nirvana band tee. Tommy has had to quickly slip it on when they have been disturbed time and time before. “What are you doing here?” Evan asks.

A sarcastic laugh bubbles its way out of Tommy and he has to take a step back from the door— from them. “W- What am I doing here?” He asks.  “What am I doing here…” he repeats. His face is starting to flush and there are tears filling his eyes no amount of blinking speed would be able to push away. He dares a look back at Evan. Wants to see if he even looks guilty; does he even look sorry? He just looks shocked, and that pisses Tommy off more. “I can't believe this...” he mutters under his breath and turns on his heels, willing his feet to get him out of this nightmare as fast as possible. 

“Tommy?” 

Ignore him. 

“T- Tommy!”

Ignore him. Forget him.

The steps are easier to get down than up; he is practically jumping the whole way down each flight. He should have known… he should have prepared better… he should have never given him that second chance… Tommy knew this thing with Evan was only going to be temporary— Evan was figuring himself out, and Tommy was more than willing to be the kind, caring, and supportive hand through the journey. But Tommy knew one day he would reach the end, he wouldn’t need the security of Tommy anymore, and Tommy was prepared to bow out gracefully. He just thought they had more time. 

But this…

This hurts so much more than he had anticipated that that would. 

“Tommy…” 

A hand grabs his shoulder and he realizes he has stopped just outside the apartment building. The cool night air is drying out the tears that have already streaked down his face. His chest feels like it’s caving in… and great, his headache is back. He shrugs Evan’s hand off of him, and starts moving towards his truck again. 

“What— Dammit Tommy! Are you seriously going to be this stubborn right now…”

That stops him. He turns and glares at Evan, taking a step towards him with seemingly enough fury Evan stops in his tracks, keeping distance between them. “Stubborn…?” Tommy chokes out. “Are you really calling me stubborn right now?”

“I- I mean… yeah! That’s how you’re acting right now!” Evan crosses his arms, having the audacity to appear angry. “You come to my apartment, had a stare down with my boyfriend, then just stormed off with no explanation!” 

Tommy feels his heart sink— hell it does more than that… it falls all the way to the floor and shatters. “B- Boyfriend…” he repeats. This has to be some kind of a prank. It has to be. “How can you stand there and look so calm about this… You—” You asshole… You lying, manipulative— “Cheater…” 

The look on Evan’s face at that word almost— not fully, but almost— surprises Tommy. So stunned; his eyes bouncing around from Tommy’s, to the ground, to the cars around them, up to the sky… before finally coming back to Tommy’s. “Ch- Cheater? Tommy.. wh- what are you talking about.” Tommy huffs out another sarcastic laugh and turns to angrily storm the rest of the way to his truck, all the while knowing Evan isn’t going to just let him. Maybe there’s even a part of him hoping Evan stops him with a viable explanation, because this… this can't be how it ends— this is going to do more than just crush him… it’s going to annihilate him. “Oh my god…” Evan groans and as Tommy suspected he would, starts after him again. “Tommy! Can you please— just this once— stop running and talk to me?” 

“Talk about what, Evan…” Tommy all but screams and, oddly enough, that seems to stop Evan in his tracks. “What do you want me to say? That I should have seen this coming… That I should have known it was too good to be true. Or maybe admit that I always knew I wouldn't be your forever, no matter how bad I wanted to be… but I sure as hell didn’t see this—” he gestures frantically at Evan then up at the apartment building. “—being how it ended.” The more he let the words spill out, the more confused Evan looked. “Or should I just come out and address the elephant in the room— the man up in your apartment you’re cheating on your boyfriend with.” 

Evan’s brows pull together, hardening his stare into something Tommy has never been on the receiving end of; it hurts to see, instead of angering him like it probably should. “I don’t know if you’re drunk… or if this is some kind of joke… but it’s not funny— it’s not fair! You— You don’t get to barge back into my life unannounced— today of all days. Then— then you accuse me of— That man up in my apartment is my boyfriend, Tommy… he has been for eight months now.” 

Tommy feels like a bomb was shoved down his throat and detonated. His entire body trembles and goes through after shocks of what Evan said. Partially from the unexpected sting of jealousy at the thought of someone being with Evan longer than he has… but mostly because of the absurdity of it all; does Evan really expect him to buy into the nonsense he’s spewing; claiming he has been in this other relationship for this long— and on their anniversary. Except Evan looks serious. 

Tommy tries to find his voice; he tries to string some words together in his head to say something back. “W- What?” is all he manages to come up with; his voice betrays him, coming out small and broken. 

Evan steps closer to him, cracks clearly forming in the cold and serious look he was just giving Tommy, making way for looks of concern, or confusion… or maybe even of sadness. “Tommy,” he says the name for the upteenth time, and Tommy feels himself flinching at his own name like it assaulted him. “Are you— Are you okay? What’s going on? Why— why are you here?” He steps closer, Tommy steps back. 

Just like that the medicine’s effect dissipates and his headache comes rushing back with a vengeance. Tommy’s vision blurs and he gasps at the return of the pain, now with a spot to single the bulk of it to. He brings his hand up to the back of his head, fingers instantly touching something wet. 

“Will you stop— dammit Tommy, stop running away from me,” Evan continues, almost in front of him now, although his voice sounds muffled and far away. Tommy stops backing up and lets his hand fall down from his head, revealing bright red blood coating his fingers. “Oh my god…” Evan gasps just as a wave of dizziness sways Tommy backwards. Two strong arms grab him, steady him… but don’t exactly hold him, and that hurts as bad as this headache. Evan is so close Tommy wouldn’t have to lean in far to capture his lips… but he can’t. Not like this. Not while everything feels so off and confusing. 

He allows Evan to help him over to his truck, but shies away from his touch the moment he is able to lean on its bed for stability. Evan pulls out his phone and dials 9-1-1. “What are you doing?” Tommy asks when his jaw is grabbed, gently but firmly, and Evan is guiding him to turn his head. He is ignored as Evan talks to the dispatcher, giving the location and a short gist of what happened, before he stops talking abruptly.

“T- Tommy… were— were you in an accident?” 

Tommy can’t help the sarcasm heavy laugh at the ridiculous question. “Don’t you think you would know if I had been,” he says coolly. 

Evan sighs. “He has a pretty big wound on the back of his head,” he tells the dispatcher, and Tommy stares at him in shock. “There are staples but it’s been reopened.” Tommy feels his skin prickling. He feels this strong sense of unease, like the floors about to fall out from under him. “Hey… look at me,” Evan says, resting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and looking in his eyes, he turns his phone’s flashlight on and scans it over each eye. “His pupils are receptive. Do— Do you know what day it is?” 

Of course that’s a logical question but given everything it is like a stab into his already ripped open chest. “It’s… November 7.” 

“Okay, good. And the year?”

“2024…”

“Okay— wait. Wh- What did you say?” Once again Evan is staring at him confused. “You said it’s 2024?” Tommy breaks his eyes away; Evan is getting that kicked puppy look and he doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to make Tommy feel bad right now. “Tommy…” Evan pries. “You— You said 2024?” 

“Yes Evan, yes! It’s November 7, 2024! It’s our six month anniversary! But I guess that means nothing to—” His voice cracks. He covers his trembling lip with the back of his hand and tries to calm himself down. 

Sirens break through the deafening silence, and an Ambulance turns into the parking lot. Evan flags it over and it comes to a stop behind Tommy’s truck. Thankfully it’s not the 118, and Tommy doesn’t recognize the paramedics that get out to help him. They check over the apparent wound on the back of his head, and start asking him questions. Questions he mostly ignores because he is focused on Evan talking to the one of them off to the side. “He— he thinks it’s 2024…” he whispers but Tommy catches it anyway. 

“What do you mean ‘I think’,” he asks past the mountain of questions the paramedic accessing him is still piling on. Evan’s mouth clamps shut and he looks over at Tommy. “You said I think it’s 2024… what the hell does that mean Evan.” 

“I- I don’t— uhm…” Evan looks helplessly at the paramedics, avoiding looking at Tommy. 

“Sir, please, just calm down. Take a deep breath. We can get everything figured out at the hospital.”

“To hell with that,” Tommy snaps— which surprises even himself, because he is usually compliant with first responders, being that he is one. “I want everything figured out now. What do you mean?” 

“Tommy…” Evan begins, takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “It’s 2025.” 

“What?”

“It— It’s 2025,” Evan reiterates.

~~~~~~~~

Sooooo 😀 trying to actually get this fix rolling because I am not going to post the whole first chapter until it’s done! Fingers crossed I don’t lose inspiration before then 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼

Throwing out a couple more tags just incase you wanna share something fixing this mess thrown on our poor sad boys or just to heal yourself, or something entirely new! 🫶

@nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @30somethingautisticteacher @bangpop91 @racerchix21 @rdng1230

@somethingaboutfirefly @kinardsevan @bucksxkinard @unhingedangstaddict and anyone else who wants to share their stuff or just follow along 🫶

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 6

Part 5

Last Time: Nancy starts filling in the gaps of everything Eddie's missed

~~~

Max, Lucas, and Erica were the first to quit calling. Hell, they’d always been more Steve’s than Eddie’s, since he’d adopted Max with the last of his parents’ trust money when he turned nineteen. After the kids graduated, Steve had set himself, Max, and Robin up in a cheap two bedroom apartment in Chicago where they all started school. Then Lucas moved in only a few months later– Max and Lucas in one room, Robin and Steve in the other. Only for Eddie to then uproot Steve to LA just before he could finish his degree, selfishly isolating him from his family.

Dustin was the next to disappear. They were close, and Eddie considered the kid one of his best friends. It apparently didn’t matter, which–just like with the other three–he should’ve seen coming. Steve was practically a brother to Dustin, same as Max. Eddie just always thought the split was more fifty-fifty with Dustin. It was a thick pill to swallow, but he managed.

He reached his final breaking point when Nancy and Mike started ignoring him. Eddie could make excuses for the rest of them, they were Steve’s adopted, puzzle-piece family. The Wheeler’s were Eddie’s family by blood. 

His parents kicked him out for kissing the neighbor boy– well, his adopted parents. Turns out Karen Wheeler had put him up for adoption three years before she met Ted, but was too scared to reach out, hoping he was happy with his new family. When little twelve year old Eddie showed up with a social worker at her door the next day, however, Karen welcomed him with open arms. He figures he’d be dead if it wasn’t for them, caught up running petty crimes just like his dad.

But that all meant Mike and Nancy were supposed to love him, not Steve. He called non-stop once he’d finally understood what was happening, but they never answered. Eddie remembers lying in bed for days, ruminating on how they’d picked golden boy Steve Harrington over their own family. Old feelings of neglect and rejection curdled up in Eddie’s stomach. A reminder that he was just a burden. Some lost, broken, queer kid they never asked for, forced onto them when Karen and Ted already had three mouths to feed.

Eddie's resentment towards everyone carried the band through their first national tour. He wanted to kick-off on a festival tour in Europe once they finished, but the band was exhausted. They were desperate to take a break while Metal Munson was still riding on top of the world, a full-fledged rockstar getting invites to behind-the-scenes parties, walking the red carpet, and casually dating celebrities. 

But he still loved his Corroded boys, so he agreed, thinking the break would allow them time to recover and give him more time to reap the benefits of a rockstar lifestyle. 

Except staying out every night started to lose its shine. The parties were duller than he remembered, the lights less bright. Mindless flirting with boys only interested in Metal Munson strained his smile. Strange, strong hands started to feel like sandpaper across his bare skin, the tangled sheets between them constricting Eddie until he couldn’t breathe. 

It all came crashing down when he woke up in an unfamiliar bed next to a man with fluffy brown hair, moles scattered across his back. Brilliant, sky blue eyes staring back at him.

Eddie quit going out. Stopped answering phone calls– not that the calls came from anyone who actually mattered. 

Because Steve never called. Not once, still hasn’t. And Eddie doesn't think he ever will.

~~~

Part 7

Tag List!!!

@sadisticaltarts @5ammi90 @blacklegsanji21 @jaytriesstrangerthings

@thewickedkat you didn't actually asked to be added to the tags, but I included you bc of your comment on the last part. If you'd like to not be included next time just lmk <3

[weewookinard]

Tidbits tuesday anyone??

angst with no happy ending:

Buck frowns, desperate to get Tommy's image out of his mind, to concentrate on the one who will join him at the altar. How could his mind be mocking him so badly? Just two days ago, everything was fine. He was happy, looking forward to getting married to Aubrey. An extraordinary woman, the right one, as he'd been telling those around him for a little over a year. Buck had managed to banish the memory of his ex- boyfriend to a corner of his mind, to move on. Buck had managed to make Tommy his past, a painful reverie but one whose weight no longer weighed on his shoulders. A bubble more fragile than he'd imagined. It had only taken a few drinks with Eddie and a few words for it to burst, drowning him in memories of a happy past. How could such a short relationship have affected him so much? Six months, half the time he'd just spent with Aubrey. Six months and as much time to recover from the separation. Six months he cherished as much as he hated. Six months that might well be capable of screwing everything up today.

[holidayslinger]

several sentences sunday

okay y'all i've started a thing i promise it's gonna be a fix it fic but right now it is....not. i was tagged by @diazsdimples so i figured i'd post this little intro to what im working on for one of my prompt fills for a bingo event. Buck/Tommy, post 8x06, future.

Buck wakes blinks awake at 5 A.M. on May 11th. It's just an ordinary day, nothing special. He has work in a few hours, and he's going to Eddie's after. They're supposed to zoom with Chris - arranged by Chris this time because things are finally getting better. It's even looking like he might want to come home soon. Buck's happy for Eddie.

It's also a welcome distraction from the fact that it's been 6 months and 3 days since Tommy broke up with him.

It's kind of funny that they've officially been apart for longer than they were together, but Buck still thinks about him every day. He thinks he should probably be over that by now.

He's done what Tommy wanted - he's dated. He's dated loads of people. He's dated boys and girls and nothing ever measures up. He can't remember anyone, besides Abby, that he thought about for this long after the break up.

The irony is not lost on him.

He lies there, staring at his ceiling, listening for his alarm that will go off any minute, so he can get his day started.

It's like any other day. Maybe now he can actually move on - maybe now that he's further away from that relationship than he was in it. Maybe the next person he meets and dates will be the one. Not the one exactly, but the one that will allow him to move on. The one who will let him go to sleep without thinking the name Tommy Kinard for an entire 24 hours.

His alarm goes off, and he throws of the blankets to go about his day.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemicrofic January Prompt: Hole

Word Count: 404 | Rated: T for ample use of the word 'bullshit' | cw: Angst Without a Happy Ending, Break-up, Hurt/No Comfort It has been a hot minute since I've done a microfic. And oops, I made it sad. I promise I'll write another silly one.

'Bullshit'

“This is bullshit,” Eddie spits, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What is?” Steve demands, shrugging.

“This!” Eddie gestures to the four walls of checked wallpaper, “Everything! Hawkins! I…”

He stops himself and folds his arms.

“I… I just need to go…” he hums, looking at the floor – at anything but Steve.

“Leave!” Steve demands incredulously, “Here? And go without me?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He turns to the window and looks down – likely to the pool Steve hopes will finally open and swallow the house… Eddie... Himself into a deep pit of nothingness.

His legs buckle and he sits at the foot of the bed, hanging his head in his hands.

Bullshit. It rings in his ears and rips through his chest. Tears prickle up in the corners of his eyes.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

The word rolls over in his head, all lit up like a fucking slot machine.

“I just have to go.”

A tear drops onto Steve’s cheek as he looks up to find Eddie standing right in front of him.

He can feel his face pinching up, tensed and pained as pure white-hot rage courses through his body, down to his toes and to his fingertips at the note of determination in Eddie’s voice.

“I know you won’t come with me,” he adds, his voice infuriatingly steady like he’s been planning this out.

“I hate you,” Steve blurts, balling up his fists as he seethes.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Again.

Not after everything.

Not after Vecna. After months of hospital stays and appointments.

Not after all the flirting and longing.

The kisses. The fun. The laughter.

Putting each other back together.

For good, Steve thought.

He pinches his nose, resisting the urge to fling himself down on the bed.

He’s not going to give Eddie that.

Not right now when he’s looking down at him with pity. That same look he’s received time and again. From Nancy... His own parents...

As if it’s completely ridiculous to hold out hope.

Hope for a quiet life together. A house. A Family.

A life Eddie doesn’t want with him. Perhaps he never wanted it...

“Get…” he starts through gritted teeth, looking Eddie directly in the eye, “Out.”

It’s bullshit how easily Eddie does as he’s told this time – for once.

He walks out, each step of his worn Reeboks shooting a cavernous hole straight through Steve’s stupid, pathetic goddamn heart.

[nolassolace]

Newest fic for that last prompt for @nark-week

I went with memory 💕

[iltrpls]

fandom : 9-1-1 on abc

relationship : evan buckley x eddie díaz

rating : general audience

status : completed

serie : part 1 of “Waiting room”

summary : Voices carry, especially in a house that doesn't feel like home anymore.

Neither Buck or Eddie ever thought this would end like this, that they would end like this. They never expected to end this decade long marathon to get together with a screaming match and coldness in their eyes. No doors being slapped or plates rudely put in the sink, they never thought Buck would ever have to take the couch again.

How the hell did they even get here?

OR the buddie break up fic

[kweenkday]

Walked Through Hell

KevJean break-up/make-up, post canon, lots of angst

CH 1 of 3 [M, 7K]

Kevin signs with Jean's team, and Jean thinks that happiness might be in the cards for him, after all. They share an apartment, a bed, lazy breakfasts, and a semi-free life, and Jean is so in love he might die. But his bliss only lasts a few months before Kevin slips into a downward spiral. The life they were starting to build together slips through Jean's fingers and no matter how many shady bars he drags Kevin out of, wasted in the middle of the night, no matter how tightly he holds onto him, Jean feels he's losing him. But Kevin fucking loves him. He wouldn't just leave him like that, would he? Jean refuses to believe it. Until Kevin cuts his contract with their team without telling him first.

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

I have written a One Piece fic and surprisingly it isn't any of the WiPs I'm supposed to be working on lol I'll eventually finish my other WiPs, but that might not be for a while. Hope you enjoy ^u^

Link to the fic

[skyrigel]

Baby, you're mine.

Ex bf! Mattheo Riddle x gn!reader

Hi, umm kinda wanted a jealous fic where Mattheo's a complete jerk ( fool ) for you. Basically that one time he ruined your date and also the time he made up. Draco being a little shit but we love him.

" Isn't he a dork ? " Mattheo smirked, his fingertips brushing against your back when you snapped back at him.

" You're such a jerk matty." You perched your lips, crossing your arms as his smirk only widened, his eyes softening at the sight of you.

" For you, always." He added with a wink, you wouldn't smile, no, you will not give him that.

" Why don't you leave me alone ? " You turned to walk ahead, you were aware of your charms class that was just about to start.

" How about you don't go on this date ? " He suggested instead, catching up with you, few third year Hufflepuffs parted away.

" Marcus is a very good guy." You mumbled, Matheo scoffed hard and his malice was very much visible in the way he scowled at his name.

" Didn't you like bad guys ? " Matheo tried his soft, sweet voice, the one that always melted you, but not this time, you wouldn't let him.

" Does it matter ? Weren't you fucking Susan or was it Komal, i remember." You narrowed your gaze at him, your mouth tightening as his soft facade crumbled, his jaw slackened but he was quick to recover.

" It was...it meant.. nothing to me." He nodded his head, eyes blazing with sincerity but if only, if only.

" Mattheo, I know you haven't got heart—"

" Babe—"

"—but these girls have got one, so don't break theirs." You glared at him once before marching towards your charms class, eyes brimming with tears.

_

You should've known as soon as you entered the great hall when the silence on Slytherin table was too much, Draco was practically buzzing, his mouth was perked up around the edges, being not so subtle with his glances on you.

Mattheo was just another case, he was staring at you, not minding the concernful eyes that gazed him down, clad with longing and desire, he didn't care about them.You dutifully paid him no attention.

The mist cleared when Marcus didn't come that evening and it wasn't a surprise when you found him in hospital wing later , poor boy even refusing to speak with you. Well done, mattheo.

_

" Hey Y/n, heard you got stood up—" you shot bat boggey hex at Draco, with mere mumbling under your breath as you swinged your rucksack on one shoulder, feeling very tired.

Draco scowled but said nothing, Mattheo only smiled smugly.

" I was thinking—" Matheo started, you stomped your books down.

" Don't talk to me." You said, feeling anger boil inside you.

" I didn't do it on purpose." Mattheo dropped his gaze to your lips, you looked away.

" Oh really ?! " You huffed a humour less laugh that oddly sounded a croak.

" He..He talked shit about you babe, what was i supposed to do ? "

" Listen." Draco said, ducking his head when both you and Riddle glared at him.

" Well anything but to beat the pulp out of him." You cocked your head, wincing to think about the damage Mattheo had done, it would be a hard for Marcus to ever date again.

" He said he just wanted to fuck you and be done." His eyes glistented and you didn't know if Riddle could cry, he did when you broke up with him but—

" Said that he wasn't being serious so I shouldn't worry, just a fuck." He swallowed hard, his adam rolling up and readjusting again, every ring of his cartilage pressing around his skin.

" Tell me baby, what I was supposed to do ? Shouldn't I kill him ? What if...what if he broke your heart ? " He pressed down his forehead against you, Draco looked away, swaggering towards the other end of the corridor, others following.

You closed your eyes at the feel of him, Mattheo could be cold but how could you let go of this warmness that tingled your way, how could you forget the sweet darling boy who sung lullabies and wrote poetries for you, how could you ?

" He can't..." You gulped, " he can't break my heart Matty, you already did it." You sniffed hard, would it be okay if you just...just hugged him and kiss him for one last time, just once, would it be okay ?

" I am sorry darling, I am so sorry." He nuzzled closer, his nose caressing your cheek as he inahled you in, your scent, the way you made him crazy and feral. All of you.

" I hate myself for not hating you." You admitted, feeling your heart shedding off some burden.

" And I love myself for loving you, I tried..tried so hard and no one, my beloved, i can love no one like i love you." His lips pressed against the corner of your mouth, your whole body rippling in magnetic waves.

" You're a jerk." You told him, pulling him by his tie as a smile aroused him, soon it crashed against you, like lightening bolts set free as you tasted his sweetness, his tongue warm as you parted for him, let him take the lead.

A soft moan escaped and you shivered because you loved this boy, for so long you have, and only he could set you on fire and make you ablaze, only he could reduce you to ashes and breath you back in the air.

" Oh baby." He breathed against you, ever so handsy he grabbed for everything he could get, pulling you closer till there was nothing left you and him, his knees pressing between you legs as he relished in the sounds you could make, only for him.

" Matt..." Your voice was dazed with the pit in your stomach that lurched with the way he touched you, kissed you, had you.

" So long...so..my baby." He whispered against you lips, dipping to nib at your flushed swollen beaming lips.

" Oh my god." Your lids drooped back when his hands roughly slipped inside you shirt, kneading and squeezing your flesh, he was so needy and wild, like you always made him.

He downed your shirt, flushed as he pulled away when the bell rang and crowd started to emerge from classes.

"Go on a date with me." He pecked your cheeks, glancing to make sure your shirt wasn't riding up.

" Can't." You said, his nose scrunched up, " afraid my boyfriend might beat you up."

Mattheo's grin was splitting his whole face, his cheeks rushing with color and heat.

" Sounds like a jerk to me." He breathed, eyeing your lips and leaning in.

" Oh, he is." You winked, " always for me."

Don't blame me

[typicalopposite]

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚢 (𝙸 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕)

BuckTommy Fic | M | Chapter 3/7 | 5595 words

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | ao3

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎: 𝙸 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚈𝚘𝚞 (𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚎)

PLEASE READ TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

There’s a distinct noise a body makes when it hits the ground after a significant fall. A splat— a squelch— that’s unmistakable, and sickening. Buck has heard it far more times than he’d like to think about, and yet at the moment it seems the forest has gone silent for it. Like all of nature holds its breath along with him in anticipation of that god forsaken sound. 

Buck tries to close his eyes before Tommy hits the ground, but just like a nightmare (which is what this feels like; what he wishes it were) they stay wide open. He sees everything. He sees the exact moment the sound happens; this time up close and far more personal than any other. There is just a moment more of silence—like the universe is paying its respects for what it has just done—then all the noise comes flooding back. 

Buck stops moving—he can’t get any closer. He tries to take in a breath and it catches halfway. The air is suddenly too thick, and too hot… and uthere’s a good chance he’s going into shock. 

Tommy’s body is contorted in a way that’s not too gruesome, but enough that it’s clearly not natural. There’s no way—Buck can’t break his eyes away from his body, as much as he desperately wants to—but it looks like he is still breathing. He knows it’s just a cruel trick of the eye; dead bodies appearing to breathe. There's just no way. Buck finally looks away. 

Again he tries to take a breath; again he doesn’t get in much air before the flow is stopped by the ever tightening of his chest. There’s also a chance he could be having a heart attack. Bobby did, from the stress he was under… and this very well might have that stress beat. 

“Oh god…” he chokes out, voice strangled by the bile rushing up into his throat. He feels like he might be sick, or maybe pass out, and he desperately needs to scream or cry… or both… or all of the above. His head feels like it might explode… the amount of guilt and anger and grief filling it is just too much. 

There’s a soft rustling of leaves. So soft he almost misses it; his head is spinning so fast and his ears are buzzing so loud, he’s surprised he’s even still standing, much less able to pick up on random noises. He hears the rustling again. It’s coming from the direction of Tommy’s body. It could be an animal… he needs to look back. 

Tommy’s hand is moving. 

His fingers are curling into the leaves and twigs then stretching back out. Buck thinks it might just be nerves… because there’s no way— Tommy sucks in a deep breath, then groans. “Oh my god!” Buck gasps, his knees finally giving out and he collapses to the ground. Tommy is breathing; it’s ragged, and each breath in his face twists like it hurts to do so… but he is definitely breathing. 

His hand closes around the foliage again. He opens his mouth and exhales sharply: “Eh… ehh…v…” he manages, slowly turning his head to the side, before sucking in another pained breath. “Ev… Ev!” Buck gasps, scrambling across the ground to Tommy’s side.

He very gently, very carefully, slides his hand under Tommy’s, and the bloody hand grabs on weakly. “Hey— hey,” Buck says, hovering his body over Tommy’s. The non swollen eye is still closed; the other one crusted over. 

“Ev’n,” Tommy manages, his hand opening and closing around Buck’s. Blood trails run down his cheeks from his nose. His lips are dark red, teetering towards purple, likely from the lack of oxygen he’s getting from the staggered breathing. 

“Tommy,” Buck whispers, bringing his other hand up to Tommy’s cheek. He’s so scared to touch him, he doesn’t know what’s broken, or bruised, or sore. He would hate himself if he hurt him more than he can only imagine he already is… more than he already has…  Tommy doesn’t move, Buck holds his breath, fearing the worst has caught up to them. Oh how typical would it be if the universe let him live just to take him right after; literally right out of Buck’s hands… But he can still see the shallow breaths. He’s still here, for now. “Hey… I’m here. I’m— I’m right here. I’m with you…” 

Slowly the good eye cracks open—that’s such an understatement… it’s just the only one that can open. He blinks it a couple times before the eye turns and looks at Buck. It widens, the corners of his lips turning up every so slightly, and he lets out a sigh, squeezing Buck’s hand. “Bu— B- Bu— K..” 

Maybe you should just stick with Buck…

“Hey, no… no don’t—” Buck squeezes Tommy’s hand back, carefully bringing it up his lips, he kisses over the swollen knuckles. “It’s Evan… please… it’s still Evan…” That gets him as much of a smile as Tommy can manage across his swollen face; his thumb grazes slowly across Buck’s cheek, catching a tear. 

“‘M… s’rry…” 

“For— for what?! You didn’t— It’s me who should be apologizing…”

Tommy jerks his head back and forth. “No… ‘m s’rry…” His eye stares up at Buck, tears welling up in it until he blinks and it topples over.

“Okay, okay… it’s okay,” Buck says, a soft laugh escaping as he clings to Tommy’s hand. “We can work on apologies and who should and shouldn’t give them later…” He looks around, not even sure how far from a clearing they are. “Right now I just have to— I have to get you out of here…” But he can’t even remember the direction his Jeep is in— much less how he’s supposed to get Tommy back to it—he was just running so wildly in his panic. 

He removes his hand from Tommy’s cheek and goes into his pocket for his phone. No signal. There's a creak from above him, and he looks up at the helicopter. His first thought: there’s no way to get up to the radio; second thought, the radio is probably broken anyway; third thought, the helicopter is creaking… it’s falling… It’s going to fall, right on top of Tommy. 

Shit. 

If there is one thing Hen and Chimney has ingrained in his head about fall injuries… you don’t move them without a neck brace and backboard… and you definitely don’t move them by yourself. Another creak and suddenly those teachings seem to matter far less. He looks down at Tommy, who is still staring up at him with his one glassy eye; still almost smiling through the swelling and the blood; still clinging to his hand. 

“I— I have to…” he says, and Tommy squeezes his hand, gives him the slightest nod. Buck might have only imagined it, but he nods back, and moves until he’s at Tommy’s head. “Okay…” he whispers, letting go of Tommy’s hand, to hook his arms under Tommy’s. “Okay, one… two…” a louder creak, the helicopter shifts. “Three!” Buck screams and pulls Tommy across the ground. He sucks in as much air as his body will allow and grunts, his eye screws shut. 

It’s not nearly far enough. 

Buck moves back and again—as carefully, but as quickly as he can—pulls Tommy with him. He does this until they are far enough away from the helicopter it won’t affect them in a fall; and fall it does. 

There's another loud creak and the helicopter comes crashing right down onto the spot still covered in Tommy’s blood. Buck throws himself over Tommy’s body to shield it from the debris that is thrown at them from the crash, but they are otherwise fine. “Oh my— oh my god…” Buck gasps, looking back at the wreckage. If the radio wasn’t busted before… It is now. He looks at Tommy; he’s still breathing. Buck could cry… he is barely breathing, but still breathing. His eye is still closed, and Buck touches his cheek. “Hey— hey, just— just stay with me okay?” Tommy cracks it just enough to look at him a moment before letting it fall back closed. Buck laughs. He breathes a sigh, and checks his phone again… still no signal. 

It would take a miracle for them to be found, he thinks… then off in the distance, he hears the faint whirring of a propeller. 

“There’s no way,” he mumbles to himself. Looking up through the cracks in the treetops, as the sound intensifies… They are about to pass over. “You hear that?!” He laughs, looking down at Tommy. His eye is closed, and he doesn’t open it again, but he does squeeze Buck’s hand. “I’m gonna— I’m going to go try to flag them down… I’ll be right back,” Buck says, bringing Tommy’s hand up to his lips before gently laying it down on his chest. 

He pushes up to his feet, his legs still wobbly, and runs over to the wreckage. There’s a fairly big opening from the helicopter coming through, but he wonders if it’s big enough. The helicopter gets closer, the propellers louder, until it’s about to pass over the opening. Buck already knows his neck is going to go stiff from looking up so long but he doesn’t care, and starts screaming and flailing his arms. 

It passes over. 

He screams louder. Jumps up and down right on his bad leg. He’s sure he’ll feel that later, too, but he couldn’t care less right now. He just hopes they saw the opening; saw him. 

They did. 

The helicopter comes back to the opening and hovers. “Hey! Hey— yeah here. He’s— he’s here!” The door opens, and a ladder drops. McCarty pokes his head out, then turns and starts to climb down. The helicopter lowers enough the ladder is almost at the ground, just low enough that McCarty can safely hop off. “Oh god, I can’t— thank god…” Buck exclaims, teetering back; McCarty grabs him before he falls. 

“Whoa there, kid… you good?” 

Buck nods, points back to Tommy, then starts running back without warning. “Tommy,” he calls towards him. “Tommy! They— they’re here. McCarty’s—”

The rise and fall of his chest has stopped. 

The rise and fall of his chest has stopped. 

“Tommy!?”

“Holy shit…” he hears McCarty gasp from behind him. 

“Tommy!” Buck drops to the ground, and takes his hand back; it falls, limp. “No! Tommy… they— they’re here! P- Please…” 

“Collier…” McCarty says into his walkie, his voice solemn. “Take that clearing… we’re— we’re gonna need all hands… to— to move Kinard’s—”

“No!” Buck screams back over his shoulder. “He’s— he’s not— I just have to— I’m starting compressions!” Gently he turns Tommy’s body so it’s flat—as flat as he can get it considering… He wonders how much more damage his body can take, and CPR isn’t a gentle technique by any means. He starts it anyway. 

“Kid,” McCarty says, laying a hand on his shoulder after the first set and Tommy’s still not breathing. “Buckley,” he says more sternly after the second. 

“He’s alive!” Buck gasps! Looking back at McCarty. “I— I don’t know how… but he… he survived the fall.”

“The fall?” 

Buck nods, going back to blow air into Tommy’s lungs. The smell, and taste, of blood is so strong it’s making him feel sick. He finally feels air blow back. “See! See- see- see! He’s— he’s breathing!” Buck sits back on his heels, pointing frantically at Tommy’s chest; the rise and fall much slower this time… but once again there. 

“I’ll be damned… he’s— hell…” McCarty gasps, staring at Tommy in disbelief, he opens the neck brace he brought down with him and Buck helps him get it around Tommy’s neck. “Collier! Have you landed her yet?” McCarty says into his walkie. 

“Affirmative. We’re heading in now,” Collier replies. 

McCarty runs his fingers through his short cropped hair, and laughs. “Make it quick, sir… he’s alive!” 

“Come again?” 

“Tommy is alive! But he’s in pretty rough shape, we’re gonna have to be quick.” 

Buck leans over Tommy, touching his face. “Hey, did you hear that? They’re coming!” He slides his hand back into Tommy’s; it's limp, so Buck squeezes it instead. “You’re getting out of here…” He waits, hoping Tommy will open his eye again, but he doesn't. It’s okay… he tells himself, at least he’s breathing.

He looks up when he hears the crunch of feet on the leaves and twigs. Collier walks up to McCarty, looks down at Tommy in shock. “You— you sure he’s—”

“Yes sir… he’s breathing.” 

Two more firefighters are right behind him holding the backboard. Buck doesn’t recognize them. They are young, likely new; Tommy had mentioned getting a few recruits. One — their name tag says, Dominguez — looks around Collier and McCarty at Tommy’s body and pales. The other — Hicks — tears up and has to turn her eyes away.  

“Come on you two…” Collier snaps. “Get it together and get over there!” They quickly straighten up and run over to Tommy. Buck moves back, letting them do their job, even if every fiber of his being is itching to help them. McCarty and Collier join them, and in no time Tommy is strapped to the backboard, lifted up between the four of them. They all but run past Buck, in the direction they came and he doesn’t hesitate to follow after them. 

Dominguez climbs in and they feed the board through the door, carefully laying it on the gurney and securing it. Then Hicks climbs in, immediately going for blood pressure cuffs, and IVs. Collier radios into the hospital that they are coming in, then back to the station that they have him. Buck can hear someone talking back, their voice frantic… but he’s too busy staring at the empty seat next to where McCarty just sat down. 

“Can— can I?” He asks, knowing he doesn’t deserve this right; knowing Tommy’s team might not give it to him. 

Collier looks out at him from the pilot’s seat. “What about your vehicle?” Buck quickly shrugs; the forest rangers could keep it for all he cares. “Alright, make room,” he yells behind him. McCarty surprisingly smiles, and clears the free seat. Dominguez and Hicks give each other a look, but go straight back to working on Tommy. 

Buck sits quietly, watching them hook up a couple lines; getting him started on fluids, and oxygen. Dominguez uses a wet wipe on the swollen eye, and then pulls it open once the crust is cleaned off. He shines the light over both. “Both pupils are reactive,” he says, and Buck lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Hick looks up at him, not even trying to hide the scowl that crosses her face. 

“This is exactly what Lucy was afraid would happen…” she says, quietly… but definitely let it be loud enough Buck would hear it. McCarty sighs, and glares at her. “What?” she continues, voice now raised. “It’s true… I mean, look at where we’re at…” 

Buck feels his face heat up, and looks away from Tommy—from them—to his hands. Tommy twitches, and groans. “E- Ev…’n” 

“Oh shit…” Dominguez gasps. “Tommy? Tommy, can you hear me?” 

“Ev’n,” Tommy repeats, trying to turn his head. “E- Ev’n…” 

Dominguez looks at Hicks, who sighs, gesturing for Buck to come closer. 

Buck stalls. 

Look at where we’re at…

Why the hell does he stall? Because in that split second decision Tommy’s eye, that is cracked open—searching the limited vision space it has for Buck… for Evan—rolls to the back of his head. His body seizes up. Every machine they have attached to him starts blaring alarms. 

McCarty moves past Buck to help Dominguez hold Tommy’s body still. Hicks tries to get a reading for his BP, his pulse, his oxygen levels, something… anything. Collier lowers the helicopter onto the hospital's helipad. Buck… still doesn’t move. He stares—maybe he is in shock, maybe he should have expected this… 

Everything had worked out too well. It had been too… easy; too convenient; too miraculous. Something was bound to go wrong.  

The residents waiting on the roof for them, snatch the door open as soon as the helicopter touches down. Tommy is lifted out, placed onto another gurney and is quickly wheeled away into the hospital before Buck fully even registers they have landed. His eyes are burning; he blinks against the tears, and follows McCarty out of the cabin. Tommy is long gone, rushed off to an OR to access the damage… and Buck had stalled. 

Why the hell did he stall. 

He didn’t let him know he was there. He should have let him know he was there… and now he might never—

Buck looks at his hands.

“Buckley,” Collier calls from the helicopter. “You want a lift back to your vehicle?” A moment passes before he repeats, “Buckley,” a bit louder. 

Then there’s a hand on his shoulder, it’s McCarty. “You good? Do you need to be checked out?” He asks. Buck lifts his eyes from his hands to McCarty’s face. He blinks, trying to register what was even just said to him. It clicks, he shakes his head. 

“No, I’m fine,” he lies. Or, well… he mostly lies. Physically he is fine. Mentally, though? Emotionally? He’s honestly a wreck. But the pain in his heart—the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts and regrets running wild in his head—is not something anyone is going to be able to check out and fix; it’s not something anyone needs to worry about. He deserves to feel it. He blinks slowly, looking back down to his hands, suddenly hyper aware of how tired he feels from the adrenaline finally plummeting to the ground (as sickly ironic as that metaphor may seem now).  “I’m— I’m fine,” he repeats, thinking maybe doubling down on the statement will really sell it. 

He turns and walks away before either can respond; off of the hospital’s helipad through the sliding glass doors into the oh-too familiar white walls, and the strong scents of disinfectant, iodine, and saline. 

He probably shouldn’t be able to navigate the hospital as well as he has become accustomed to doing. He is a firefighter after all, not a doctor… Yet his eyes remain on his hands, rather than ahead of him, and he still easily manages to reach the elevator—taking it down to the emergency room floor—with no issue. 

A part of him desperately grasps for a shred of positivity. Internally he gives himself reminders of all the times he has been here before for some situation that seemed dire and then turned out alright in the end. A much bigger, much more negative, but logical, part of him replays the fall, the flight to the hospital, the hospital staff taking the gurney through the doors out of sight, over and over and over as if to say: How can this turn out alright?! 

The answer? It can’t. It won’t. It’s not possible. He fell from too high; he lost too much blood; he sustained severe internal damage. 

He continues to look at his hands…

“Buck,” a voice calls just as he steps into the waiting area; it’s Bobby. He looks up shocked to see his team there, unsure how they even knew to come, and wishing he could find some solace in the fact they are here, and he is not alone. He finds none. “What happened?” 

“He happened,” another voice says, so angrily it makes Buck flinch. Morris storms across the room towards Buck, face red and pulled down into a deep frown. Buck realizes his team isn’t the only one here… “What the hell are you even doing here, Buckley?” The man snarls, making it into Buck’s space. Bobby reaches out an arm to keep him from getting any closer. Morris scoffs: “You don’t have to protect him, Nash. I’m not stupid, I won’t touch him… Tommy wouldn’t want—” Morris takes a breath and steps back from Buck anyway. “Why don’t you just leave, kid…” he says, voice suddenly drained as if he put all his energy into the sudden burst of anger. “You’re good at that.”

Buck wilts. He tries to not let it be visible; he doesn’t deserve to let it be visible. He doesn’t deserve sympathy (he doesn’t think anyone is really going to sympathize with him anyway… maybe his team will… although they have been pretty upset with him too). “That’s enough,” Bobby says, staring down Morris like he’s daring him to speak again; it manages to make Buck feel better and worse at the same time. 

Hen approaches him, with Chimney and Eddie on her heels. “What do we know, Buck?” She asks, voice kept low so that the question stays within their circle. “How bad is it…”

“It’s— He— He’s… in surgery… I guess— I’m sure. I was so— so close, Hen—” Bucks shoulders rise up then fall in a helpless shrug. “I tried. I tried to get to him but he fell; I couldn’t— there was nothing I could—” 

He looks at his hands, they are trembling. 

He wants to cry. He wants to finally let go and break down, and just maybe someone will have pity on him enough to comfort him through it. He takes a breath and once again pushes the emotions away. He doesn’t deserve any kind of release. He doesn’t deserve pity, or comfort. He does deserve the anger… he has half a mind to chase after Morris just to be given another dose of it. He looks at his hands.

“Buck,” Eddie says, squeezing his shoulder. “You can’t— it’s not—” Buck looks up at him, eyes pleading for him to not go there. Don't attempt to take what is rightfully his. Don’t tell him not to blame himself. It is his fault. 

Buck looks at his hands… there’s blood on his hands… Tommy’s blood is on his hands.

“Where is he?!” Buck looks up to see Lucy running into the lobby. Her eyes are wide and bloodshot, and they easily find Buck—standing awkwardly in the middle of the full lobby, covered in blood and dirt—and lock on him. “Buck… they— Collier said you found him… was he— is he…” She walks up to Buck, looking to him for answers. Everyone is looking to him for the answers to what happened in that forest; answers only he fully knows. Answers he doesn’t know if he can share… not yet. 

Suddenly he understands Tommy’s reasoning for not telling him about Jay. Suddenly it all makes sense. He looks at his hands… He looks at Lucy. “I’m— I’m so…”

She grabs his shoulders, and shakes her head. “No… Buck you tell me he’s going to be okay! You tell me right now.” 

“Lucy… I— I can’t… he’s—” Buck takes in a shaky breath. “Lucy, I'm sorry—” 

“I don’t need you to comfort me, Buckley.” Lucy snaps, releasing him and stepping back, her voice ice cold in a way she’s never used with him before. “He wasn’t even supposed to be in the air today. Captain grounded him until he could get his head straight…” she narrows her eyes at him, the look slicing through Buck like a knife.”— til he could get over you.” She shakes her head, wipes a tear as it falls from her eye. “He never should have been up there… I was supposed to be the one who went…I— I should have been—”

“You can’t blame yourself—” Buck tries, reaching out to touch Lucy’s arm. She snatches back from him and scoffs. 

“I don’t blame myself,” she says, her scowl deepening. “I blame you.” The words hit Buck like a slap to the face, as Lucy draws in a deep breath, ready to take another swing. “If I had been up there everything would have gone smoothly. I would have actually cared about making it back in one piece… or making it back at all.” 

Buck can feel his eyes widen. “Wh- what’s that supposed to mean?” Lucy tightens her jaw, a hint of regret flashing across her face. “Lucy,” Buck tries again. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Why are you even still here?” She asks instead of answering Buck’s question. “Be- Because you feel guilty? You did your part; you got him to the hospital… So why are you sticking around?” 

Why is he sticking around? 

Because there is absolutely nowhere he would rather be, than here when (if… it's all just a big if right now and that thought terrifies him) Tommy comes out of surgery. He isn’t exactly sure what to say, because he knows he can’t say that. He doesn’t deserve to say that he wants to be here. He does, however, feel guilty, like she said. So guilty in fact it’s making him feel sick; making him feel like there’s a vice around his chest, steadily squeezing. 

“Look,” Lucy finally says after taking a few breaths to calm herself down. “If you honestly think, that the man who acts like you’re the center of his universe; who spends every second of downtime either calling you, texting you… or talking our ears off about you; the man who you’ve said yourself treats you better than anyone else has ever treated you… If you can without a doubt tell me you really think for even just one second that he is this terrible person you have been trying so hard to paint him out to be— then you never deserved him in the first place… And you should just go home and let those of us who do care be here for him.” 

I do care… Buck thinks. “I— I’m sorry…” he says. 

“I need to go call his mom…” Lucy sighs, turning her back to him as she pulls her phone out. She walks back to the 217’s claimed side of the lobby, and Buck is left alone. 

He looks back down at his hands and attempts to wipe the blood off onto his pants, but it has dried. 

“Where’re you going?” Eddie asks when Buck starts across the lobby. 

“I just need to— I need…” he tries, and fails, to find the right words to explain that if he doesn’t get Tommy’s blood off of his hands he is going to go insane. He points to the bathroom, and Eddie relaxes back into his chair. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles under his breath.

The extremely bright LED light inside the bathroom isn’t helping his raging headache, so he squints as he walks over to one of the sinks. He loads soap into his palm and starts scrubbing… avoiding looking into the mirror. Unable to look at himself. 

The water runs over his hands turning red as it falls into the sink and goes down the drain; his hands are still stained… he adds more soap. 

E- Ev’n…

He scrubs. 

B’ck…

The creak.

He remembers.

The snap. 

He scrubs. 

The water still runs red. He adds more soap. He pictures Tommy falling. He watches it play out again through his memory; Tommy frantically reaching for something to grab. The sound of the scream he lets out when he finds nothing. The splat of him hitting the ground. 

He scrubs. And scrubs. And scrubs.

It won’t come off.

He scrubs harder.

He was never supposed to be in the air today. 

He scrubs harder.

I don’t blame him, I blame you.

It won’t come off.

I think I see forever with you. 

He can’t get it off. 

They had plans… He was going to teach Tommy how to surf… Tommy was going to take him to the snow. “Ready to take some big steps,” Buck repeats the words Chimney had said to him when he thought Tommy was taking Buck to meet his mom. 

“She’s going to love you,” Tommy said when they had actually approached the idea. 

They still haven’t even gotten around to his flying lessons. They just never had time. He'd only learned a little Muay Thai… but Tommy always held back; always scared he might hurt him. Little did he know Buck was about to turn around and absolutely destroy him. 

He adds more soap; he scrubs harder. His hands are starting to feel raw. 

The door opens, he doesn’t look. “Buck,” Eddie says, softly at first, then again, panicked. “Buck stop.” He feels Eddie grab his wrists prying his hands apart. Buck fights against him. 

“I can’t look at it anymore, Eddie… I— I can’t!” Doesn’t Eddie see the blood? Doesn’t he understand Buck has to get it off. 

“Hey! Someone help me!” Eddie screams towards the door. 

“What the— hey! Buck, whoa— hey…” Bobby runs over to Buck’s other side, taking one arm while Eddie still has the other. “That’s enough, kid…”

His energy drains once again. He looks at his hands. 

The water is still running red, except the blood is no longer Tommy’s… it’s his. 

Buck looks down at his hands; from his fingertips up past his wrists is deep red, rubbed raw and bleeding. “Oh god…” he gasps, trying to take in a few calming breaths; instead it turns his stomach and he has to push away from the sink, away from Bobby and Eddie’s hold on him, to stumble through the door of the nearest stall. He collapses to the floor  holding his ruined hands away from the seat—the last thing he needs is an infection—as he heaves into the toilet. 

“Here,” Eddie says, handing him some paper towels. 

Buck sits back on his heels. “Thanks…” he says and begins to dab at the still bleeding spots on his hands. 

He wants to cry; he pushes it down.

A hand covers his, stopping his ministrations of trying to stop the bleeding. It's Hen. She offers a genuine smile—he doesn’t deserve that. He looks away. “Hey,” she says softly. “Let me see.” He opens his mouth to say that he’s fine… “I’m not asking,” she says before he can. “Wet these,” she instructs Eddie. “And find me some antibiotic ointment and gauze.” 

Buck hisses as she spreads it over the bleeding spots, avoiding her eyes. She wraps his hands and lays them back in his lap. Bobby and Eddie help Buck to his feet. He thinks he should probably just leave. He is causing more trouble than anything by being here… 

Chimney is waiting in the hall. He looks at Buck, with puffy red rimmed eyes, when he walks out of the bathroom. He looks down at Buck’s hands, and sighs. Buck braces himself for another attack. To be called selfish, and told this is all his fault, that he doesn’t get to take the attention from the person who deserves it by hurting himself. That he’s really being Buck… and he needs to just stop. 

Two arms wrap around him. Chimney holds him like he might just disappear if he doesn’t hang on for dear life. “He’ll get through this, Buckaroo…” Chimney says, and Buck thinks it might hit harder than if he were screaming at him. “Tommy’s strong and— and he will fight to get back to us— to you, okay?” 

Buck sucks in a breath and holds it. He doesn’t deserve this from them… why are they mad at him? The 217 seems to get it. This is his fault. 

They walk with him back to the lobby, and Sal has arrived, sitting with Lucy and Morris. They all look up as the 118 walks Buck to a seat, Eddie and Chimney sitting on either side of him. Sal glances over, the first person not on his team to look at him with pity rather than like he someone hijacked the helicopter’s controls and made it crash himself. 

Hours of a heavy awkward silence pass before a doctor finally walks out into the lobby. “For Kinard,” she says, seemingly taken aback when nearly the whole of the lobby’s occupancy stands up.

“How is he?” McCarty asks. 

“He coded several times during surgery, but he pulled through,” the doctor says. Buck feels the vice around his chest tighten with each injury she explains. Multiple broken bones, a ruptured spleen, a tear in his liver from a broken rib… Severe trauma to his spinal cord… More words to run, and rerun through Buck’s head. She looks over Tommy’s chart, and sighs. “I'm not going to lie to you all, it’s very touch and go right now. All we can do now is monitor him and wait for him to wake up. 

“Can— can we see him?” Lucy asks. The doctor looks around at the large crowd. “We know everyone can’t but—” She looks around her team, and even at the 118. “We’re kind of all he has until his mom gets here.” The doctor reluctantly agrees, says only a few can go in at a time. The rest have to stay in the ICU waiting area. 

Buck feels like his feet are cemented to the floor when everyone starts towards the elevators. He thinks he hears Morris mumble he’d have to go through him to get into Tommy’s room. He thinks he hears Sal say he needs to back off. He thinks he should just go home. Tommy doesn’t need him here, he has his team; he has Buck’s team, too. 

Chimney puts a hand on Buck’s back, breaking him from his thoughts. “Let’s go,” he says, giving a slight nudge that seems to break Buck’s feet free. They wait for an empty elevator and squeeze inside.  

_________

Tags <3

@bucksxkinard @kinkley-are-adorkable-flirts @sira1420 @30somethingautisticteacher @girlwonder-writes @do-androids-dream-ao3acc

(Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! <3)

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 5

Part 4

Last Time: Nancy had an unexpected guest while filling Eddie in on everything he's missed over the past year. Now: Nancy finally tells him what's going on with Steve

~~~

Nancy starts the story at the beginning of the end. 

Robin, Max, and Lucas flew out to LA and spent the last three days of Eddie’s ten day bender loading up boxes, carving Steve out of his life. After severing her lease, Robin and Steve moved into a small apartment in Chicago, only a train ride away from Dustin– which worked out when Steve struggled to leave the house for the first two months. All of the arcade and game store money Steve spent on the kids over the years was paid back in full to help cover the rent.

Eddie remembers the moment he opened their front door to a hollowed-out home. No toothbrush by the sink. No gold, wire-framed glasses on the nightstand. Just Steve’s matching guitar pick necklace next to two silver house keys, and a note which said ”don’t call” in Robin’s looped handwriting.

The first few months after Steve moved out are just a whirlwind in his memory. Countless parties and late nights and warm beds buried his grief, keeping it at bay, at least for a while.

Then Corroded Coffin’s new album Love Me. Hate Me. Fuck Me. Free Me. dropped. Eddie's lyrics filled to the brim with seething disdain, heavy with angst. The album found its target audience faster than anyone had expected, launching Corroded Coffin from an opener to a headliner in only a few months. 

The collective internet started raiding his past like the trash heap it was, and that’s when the interviews started. He was forced to defend his sexuality, his adoption, his shitty parents. Answering questions at the whims of anyone with internet access. Eddie held the rage like a lifeline, letting it fuel his shows and lace his words. 

He'd started showing up high to interviews. Even though he’s six months sober now, he’s never gone back and watched them, too afraid of what he’d find. He knows questions about his exes came up a few times. He can't remember what his answers were. Probably doesn't want to, with how his younger fans reacted. 

That doesn’t stop Nancy and she doesn’t sugar coat it for him. She tells him paparazzi and angry fans camped outside Steve's apartment building for weeks after Eddie mentioned Steve's full name in a drunken livestream. They were served an eviction notice a week after a fan threw a milkshake at Robin as she tried to open the front door. Steve was able to pull her inside, but his appearance only incensed the crowd into vandalizing their building. Apparently people didn’t take kindly to the idea of Steve dating a woman, proof that he only used Eddie as some sort of queer experiment. Like they hadn’t been together for almost eight years. 

Moving out required coordination and a decoy moving van, like something out of a goddamn heist movie. According to Nancy, that’s exactly what it was. They packed up their things for the second time, and were out within twenty-four hours. The kids snuck the two through the back in the dead of night, with Nancy dressed as Robin and Jonathan as Steve leaving out the front to distract the crowd. 

Looking back, he can’t believe how naive he’d been to think there’d be no real-world consequences. Eddie used the album as an opportunity to purge himself of overwhelming emotion and pour them into the music, like he always did. He indulged in the recurring fantasy of Steve holed up in his bedroom, brooding and crying while listening to Eddie’s songs over and over again. But he never thought for a second he’d be putting Steve in actual danger, let alone Robin or anyone else.

Nancy says that’s when they moved into her and Jonathan’s guest bedroom for two months. It was awkward at best, and difficult at worst. Steve would walk in on Nancy and Jonathan in the middle of a conversation about Eddie, or catch them watching interview clips. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, Steve seemed to see right through her. 

“Eddie,” Nancy sighs, wiping a stray tear from her eye, “I don’t think you understand how hard it was on everyone, not just Steve. You didn’t seem to care what we had to say, and when you called, you’d never ask about us. You only ever talked about yourself. All we heard about was Metal Munson, then had to watch Steve struggle with it all. It just– we didn’t know what to do.”

It took him longer than it should have to notice, since he didn’t call often. He was too relieved to care about the lack of messages or missed calls, sick of everyone constantly begging him to slow down. They’d see him online at some party or another, dancing next to some boy he’d never remember or drinking bottles on top of bars. Every new viral video brought a wave of concerned phone calls from Nancy and his friends. So really, it’s no surprise at all that he didn’t notice the change right away.

Because if Nancy’s timing is right, the month Steve and Robin moved in was when his family started blocking all contact with him.

~~~

ao3 (Homesick)

Alright turns out I'm terrible with exposition so this chapter is taking me FOREVER! I'm relatively happy with this part though so I'm ready to share. So I'm breaking it into bite sized pieces

Ooooo ALSO I started uploading all of A Desperate Fool to ao3 under the series Homesick. I'm going for full chapter updates on ao3 and little snippet updates here, so Tumblr might be just slightly ahead (never far though). Not sure what the rules are for marking the fic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson when they never interact, and Steve isn't even there, even though that's what the whole fic is about. Idk I tried to make it clear!

I've talked about how the first chapter with Robin was supposed to be a one-off. But the overall concept was born from the song If It Means A Lot To You by A Day To Remember. That song is gut wrenching, so hopefully my fic is too!

Part 6

Tag List!!!

@sadisticaltarts @5ammi90 @blacklegsanji21

[cozyrosykay]

Well….I made myself very sad 😭 I wrote this in like 20mins so it’s not amazing. But I wanted to get it down while I saw it in my head. I’ll tweak it and then add it to AO3. I want to make it more rip your heart out. As I am a Renee/Jean shipper and that will not change, but if I’m going to write them breaking up then I want to be absolutely destroyed by it 😳

@capcavan @broken-heart-raven-queen this is what ya’ll inspired 🥲

Renee stared down at her plate. Untouched food stared back at her. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to say goodbye. She didn’t want to break her own heart and his but she didn’t know what else to do.

They weren’t good for each other.

They weren’t right for each other.

She wished she could love him the way she wanted too and she knew deep down that he didn’t love her romantically either.

But how do you say goodbye to someone that you love? Who hasn’t done anything wrong? Someone that she did love with all her heart just not romantically. How do you say goodbye to a person who has been through so much and who looks at you, as though you hung the sun itself. And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? His affection often felt more like worship than love. She didn’t want to be on a pedestal, she wanted to be loved and wanted for the flawed human being that she was.

She knew what she had to do. And now was the perfect time. Alone in his apartment and she was leaving for the PeaceCorp in two weeks. She could mourn alone and away from her friends worried gazes. And he would be going to stay with Kevin next week for a month so he wouldn’t be alone.

Jean stared at Renee. She wasn’t eating even though he had fixed her favorite and her eyes were sad. He knew what was coming. He knew that she was just working up the courage to let him go.

He hated it.

But also knew deep down that she was right. He just wasn’t strong enough to be the one to end them, to let her go; but she’d always been stronger. He was alive because of her strength.

He had known long before now, that what they had wouldn’t go the distance they didn’t love each other the way people who stayed together and got married and had children with a white picket fence love each other they.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure he would ever want to be a father. And he knew that being a mother was something Renee longed for one day in the far off future.

They loved each other, but not enough.

He often felt that she loved him with the care a mother, a good mother unlike his own, loved her child, or the way a deity loved their disciple. Part of that was his own fault, he held her up on a pedestal and it made her uncomfortable. But how could he not? She was his savior. He stopped believing in God, but he would never stop believing in Renee Walker.

So yes, he knew it was coming when he caught her looking at Matt and Dan with the same naked, longing that he knew he wore looking at Andrew and Neil. He never thought he would be jealous of Neil now that he was also free from Edgar Allen. But he was when he saw the fierce but subtle adoration that Andrew and Neil held for one another.

He knew it was coming and he knew it would be today; at this dinner. She would want clean break before leaving for the Peace Corp, and she wouldnt want him alone. Which is probably why she had enthusiastically encouraged his trip to see Kevin.

He didn’t know how he was going to live without her or if he would want to because being loved by Renee even when it was lacking in what he wanted was better than being not loved at all. What if she left and and his parents were right that no one would ever truly love him? Would she stay if he begged? No one else ever had. But he knew that she would, and eventually it would destroy them both.

Jean startled when he saw a tear roll down her cheek. And the small, shocked sound she made had him thinking that she hadn’t realized that she had started crying.

“I can’t do this” she whispered, her voice husky with the husky tears she was trying to hold back.

“I know”his voice was weak and sad.

At the sound of his voice Renee gave up the fight with her tears “I’m so sorry Jean”

“I know” he said again, his own tears beginning to fall “I am too.”

Renee choked on a sob “I do love you.”

Jean looked to the ceiling, hating to see her in such distress and also hating the awful feeling in his own chest “I love you too, it’s just not enough.”

Renee got up from her chair and moved to his lap, burrowing her face in his neck as she cried, and he clung to her tightly, afraid that this might be the last time he ever held her in his arms. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you in my life” he hated the words as soon as they left his mouth, hated their weakness. He wasn’t shocked when she pushed herself out of his arms but he was shocked to see the fierceness in her eyes “You will NEVER not have me in your life Jean. As long as I’m breathing you will always have family and someone who loves you. The end of our romantic relationship is not the end of us in each others lives.”

The relief that Jean felt at her words was overwhelming, he knew she meant them. He was not losing her completely. Their relationship would change but not end.

He hugged her back to him fiercely “thank you” he whispered against her ear.

“You will find someone Jean Moreau, you will find someone who will love you in the way the I can’t. They will adore the ground you walk on. They’ll see all the amazing things that I do and they’ll fall head over heels in love with you, and at first I’ll be jealous that it couldn’t be me and then I’ll love them because they love you.”

Jean sobbed into her neck. He believed in Renee Walker and hoped that she was right.

[giosele]

one time again | 2/5 | Cyno/Alhaitham | Time Loop AU / Samsara AU | Rating: E

“What is your problem?" Asks Kaveh. "Today’s a big day. You two lovebirds are finally seeing each other after weeks. I thought you’d be ecstatic.” “Is that what we are?” Alhaitham asks, without opening his eyes. “Huh?” “Lovers,” Alhaitham mutters. “He was supposed to be back three weeks ago. Do you truly think he loves me?” -- Time Loop AU where the Samsara happens first. Alhaitham and Cyno relive the day of their reunion again and again and again, until they fall apart. Loosely follows the events of Sumeru’s AQ.

[harmonyandco]

Harry and Ginny have actually gotten along a lot better after the divorce, making everyone wonder if they were going to get back together. Everyone including Hermione, who was reluctant to reveal her own feelings for Harry if that was likely.

via @johnburtonlee