#but he fails to realize that it is only a dream

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Start Again (Honkai: Star Rail Short Fic)

Tingyun (Fugue) x Reader

It's 2am as of writing, I get up at 7 for work, but I refuse to sleep until this brainworm has left. Burn by FLOW and many Gundam Unicorn songs inspired this piece. Post edit note: IT'S 3:44 AM BUT THAT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT Content: Angst to Comfort(Considering the circumstances, anyway) Word Count: 1.6k Apologies if this is OOC, the brainrot was VICIOUS

Fugue's dreams have led her here again. Sitting at a familiar setting, with a familiar face by her side.

It takes her a moment or two to recall where exactly she is. The...Earl?

The exact name escapes her, but she knows the feelings it brings her. Comfort, yet sadness. She knows returning there on the Loufou will not be as it once was.

But the person next to her smiling? The one holding her hand, failing to contain a laughter that instantly makes her at ease? She could never forget your name.

And yet in this instance, your lips move, but no sound comes out. The only noise that she can hear is her own breathing, one that grows ragged with every second she looks at you.

Her hands squeeze yours back without her input, feeling her own lips move. But just like you, she says yet another line lost to time, and still your eyes glimmer with such excitement.

What promises had she made to you back then?

What promises will she not be able to keep?

Just as Fugue had gotten bearings of her surroundings, the dream seems to fragment yet again, as her vision fades into darkness.

...

Fugue's eyes rapidly blink, forcing her daze out and focusing back on the present. She can see the reflection of herself on the glass, half expecting to see her past appearance.

She was aboard the Astral Express, staring out into the stars again. Fugue continued only for a few seconds longer before realizing that she wasn't alone in the car, with the Trailblazer standing behind her.

(Fugue) "Oh, Benefactor! My apologies, I didn't know you were standing there."

Fugue smiled with a hand over her chest, though the pain from the memory had yet to fade. Something that was all too evident, apparently.

(Caelus) "Are you okay? You're crying."

Fugue's hand immediately reached for the corner of her eyes, finally feeling the trickle that was building up, and with a sigh she let her hand drop back down to her waist.

(Fugue) "...Would you mind indulging in a question of mine?"

The Trailblazer leaned against the glass next to her, crossing his arms as he gave a thoughtful nod.

(Caelus) "Ask away."

Fugue turned back around to face the stars, trying to compose herself and find the proper way to ask Caelus a nagging thought of hers. Before, she could have easily found away to articulate her thoughts, but alas that was yet another part of her taken.

Her eyes drifted along the rim of the windows, eventually staring out into space again.

(Fugue) "What would be the first thing you would say to someone who thought you were gone forever? Someone who loved you more than anything else?"

Fugue didn't hear a response from him, not for a little while. When it was clear that was her only question, Caelus eventually sighed and gave her an answer.

(Caelus) "I guess...Hey."

...Hey?

That was it?!

Fugue immediately turned her attention back to Caelus, who was now awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck at her sudden frown.

(Fugue) "That is wildly inappropriate! How can the first thing I say to them just be a simple greeting?!"

Caelus's lips curled into a smile, moments away from saying something either witty or irritating, only to stop at the last second as his expression became serious again.

(Caelus) "You remember (Y/N)?"

(Fugue) "...So you've met them too."

Caelus nodded, motioning towards the nearby couch for them to sit down. After they had gotten comfortable, he leaned forward with both his hands clasped together.

(Caelus) "Only a few times, when they were with...-"

Fugue suddenly felt it hard to breathe, imagining the pain you must have felt realizing the person you loved was actually a monster wearing their skin, thinking that you would never see them again.

Caelus's next response immediately snapped Fugue out of her reverie.

(Caelus) "-...They still love you, Fugue."

She said nothing, taking a moment for his words to settle in.

(Caelus) "If I saw someone again after a long time, anything they'd say would be of some comfort. At least, that's the way I see it."

Fugue looked again towards the stars, but this time her reflection in the glass seemed all the harder to ignore.

(Caelus) "That's why I think a greeting is a way to start again. The best way? Probably not but...It's better than nothing, or just leaving them alone."

Fugue's gaze eventually trailed down to her own hand, her tail slowly swishing to her side.

(Fugue) "...Even when the person they loved is no longer the same?"

Caelus leaned back into the seat, staring out into the stars with his friend.

(Caelus) "Even then."

...

You decided that it'd be a good time to take a small break, and relax on a nearby bench, hearing the distant hum of starskiffs from above.

This was a quieter part of the Loufou, though it could never become entirely silent. Regardless, it always helped calm you down, at least somewhat, when your mind began to race again.

Truth be told, you wish you could be busy to keep your mind off things. Even though almost an entire year had passed since the funeral, your mind still couldn't help but think about Tingyun.

Sighing, you began to move off the bench when a familiar voice called out to you.

(???) "H-Hello, (Y/N)..."

Your swore your heart stopped for a moment or two as your body quickly swiveled to the person you swore was-

(Y/N) "Tingyun...?"

The woman in front of you looked almost exactly like your now dead girlfriend. Though her hair was longer, the clothing darker-The details differed ever so slightly, but you were sure.

That's Tingyun in front of you right now.

You wanted to reach out and hug her, to start crying on the spot and begin shouting to the skies how much you missed her. And yet...

Her eyes. Her eyes that once held such warmth for you alone, no longer sparkled in that same way. As if...she were talking to a stranger.

What seemed like a small eternity had passed before she sighed, sitting at the bench beside you, though not quite close enough, leaving a noticeable space between you two.

(Y/N) "...Are you really?-"

(Fugue) "Yes and...No."

Calling herself 'Fugue', she began explaining what exactly had led to her return, and although she was the woman you loved, at the same time it wasn't.

Her memories were fragmented, and although the finer details were lost forever, certain people and things that held significance to her seemed to be the only things intact.

Meaning that you were one of the anchors allowing her to even survive.

(Fugue) "...And now, I have a second chance at life, perilous as it is still."

(Y/N) "...What exactly do you remember of me, if I can ask."

Fugue pursed her lower lip, brows furrowing as her expression alone told you how little actually came to mind. Every second that passed was like a dagger twisting further into your heart, only stopping momentarily when she collected her thoughts.

(Fugue) "Besides your name...your smile...How warm your hands are, and how nice they feel when I hold them..."

Fugue tried with all her might to recall that dream. Even though it was so damn vivid every night, why did she struggle to recall it the moment she needed it the most?

(Fugue) "I...I think we had tea in front of the...Earl...?-"

(Y/N) "The Sleepless Earl, hah..."

You closed your eyes as tears threatened to spill out. Hearing her speak again was agonizing, yet relieving all at the same time. It was her, yet not her...Despite that, you finally knew in some capacity, she was safe and breathing next to you again.

Though, you must have done a poor job of masking your emotions since you felt a familiar touch you've missed brush against your cheek, feeling a thumb wipe away a tear that fell out.

(Fugue) "I...I didn't mean to hurt you. I shouldn't have come to you. I'm so-"

(Y/N) "Don't!"

Your body moved faster than your mind, immediately grabbing her hand when it tried slipping away. Fugue was somewhat startled, yet she quickly relaxed, seemingly soothed by your touch as well.

(Y/N) "...Sorry."

Clasping her hand again, you struggled to let go before gently putting her hands on her lap and maintaining that respectful distance.

(Y/N) "Knowing that you're alive again is more than enough for me. E-Even if you are on a razor's edge right now."

Truthfully, you didn't know if that was actually any better. You weren't sure if your heart could handle seeing her die again, but the illogical part of your brain was just happy to see her, to hear her speak, to hear her call out your name-

(Fugue) "(Y/N)."

You turned back to Fugue, who now had tears prickling the corners of her eyes too, her hand sitting in the middle of the space between you two.

(Fugue) "Do you know what my name means?"

You nod. You weren't oblivious to the symbolism of her new name.

(Y/N) "A loss of self."

(Fugue) "...And someone who's starting again."

She shifts her hand, her palm now facing outward. Now, she's giving you the smile you adored for all these years, one that never failed to make your heart race and cheeks flush.

This time, her smile is making tears rush down your face freely.

(Fugue) "I think it will take some time, but...I'd like to start again with you. And...to fall in love with you once more."

The smile you give back seems to have the same effect, even if Fugue doesn't entirely know the reason why she feels connected to you.

Not that particular bit stopped you from wiping away her tears this time, and letting your foreheads rest against each other.

Starting again didn't sound too bad.

[kookoomyboy]

learn you

⊂❀⊃ pairing : jungkook x oc

⊂❀⊃ genre : husband!jk, potter!oc fluff, angst, if you squint

⊂❀⊃ wc: 1436

⊂❀⊃ summary : drabble | seeing you cook with your injured hand after an argument; as your cold husband

⊂❀⊃ a/n : jungkook cooking is my fav /srs

< jjk titles,,> ♡ kookoomyboy ®

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

Another miraculously orange morning and you excitedly pace towards the small out-house where you spend half of the day at. You were a potter, one with immaculate skills and rated a whooping five-star among the customers who you attended to. You have signature styles and originality in whatever work you do. A pretty little smile danced across your excited face as you opened your workstation for the day, setting aside all the created pots ready for delivery, you removed the curtains, revealing the bright sun shining their way into those hazel eyes. Taking a sip of some freshly brewed coffee, your mind suddenly diverted to thoughts about your husband, Jungkook. He was a CEO, from an ordinary family. He wasn’t born with a diamond spoon, nor had superlative parents. 

It was his dream, hard-work and perseverance that gave him the life he had today. Naturally, you never had the time for love and wasn’t really interested in a love-life. So you eventually got arranged to your dad’s college mate’s son, who’s your loving husband, Jeon Jungkook. Snapping yourself back into the present, you cleansed your hands before starting to work on new orders. At that very moment, the wooden door swung open and a head popped through the opening. 

“Good Morning!!” Your husband chimed and opened the door further with a tray of pancakes and maple syrup.

You peek further into the tray only to find some pancakes that barely made it alive and the majority completely burned off. You shook your head at his failed attempt in cooking, which wasn't something new.

"Lord, you cooked?" You approached him after washing  the clay off your hands and drying them.

"You don't seem impressed.. Do they look that bad?" He carefully checked the tray in his hold, and his pouting doe eyes stared at yours, waiting for a response.

"Okay okay, let's see how it tastes first, then I'll say, yeah?" You picked up the fork and dug into the relatively good one.

"It's not bad, I see, you've definitely improved." You smile and he spins around in victory. None knows how cute he is with that eye smile and rosy cheeks, totally in contrast with how he behaves with anyone else other than you. You pat his shoulder and he scurried off to clear up the plate. 

"Man has work and he's making me food huh? How enticing. No wonder he's my husband." You chortle at the end of the thought that crosses by, and indulge in work once again.

"Bye Y/N !! I'm leaving, see you soon and please take care." His daily reminders pass through your ears once again, as you wave at him enthusiastically with those clay coated hands of yours, a result of the amazing designed pots you're crafting.

"Cute" He stares at you through the open door again, before driving off for work.

Your eyes divert back to the small pots you've already made. There were five, but you needed two more to finish with an order. It was for decorating a baby shower venue, so you had to make it colorful and cute as much as possible. 

"I got this. Remember the smile on the people's face when they see these, all cute and bubbly." That's one way you motivate yourself from any block that deviates your concentration to something else.

But it didn't seem to help today.

The moment you started the wheel, its sharp blades wounded your hands, and you jerked them back in pain and reflex.

"That.. hurts… where's the first aid." You gaze around the room in such a hurry and it adds to the giddiness in your head along with the blood loss as you somehow manage to get the coffee and gulp it down quickly before tightly tying the cloth you use to wipe your hands, to stop the blood flow.

Plopping down on the couch back at home, you stare at the clock, realizing the time, you quickly rush towards the kitchen in order to prepare something before Jungkook arrives. There wasn't time for making breakfast in the morning, which ended up in Jungkook's burnt pancakes, so you needed to do something proper for dinner, but with those injuries, it was hard.

Weighing the condition and thinking about what to do snatched away the remaining time left, as the sound of Jungkook’s car pulling up into the garage became evident.

"Crap, he's here, what do I do" Nevertheless, you rushed towards the door to open it, only to hit your injured palm on the coat stand nearby as you hissed in pain, and Jungkook walked in on the sight of his wife holding her palm and wincing in pain.

"Y/N?! What is this, there's so much blood !! Didn't I tell you to stay safe and take care? Is this what I get in return?!" He raised his voice, throwing away his suitcase aimlessly before cradling your hands in his.

"I'm guessing you injured yourself while working,, damn it Y/N why can't you be careful?? If you can't be, then please don't do something you cannot." He blew onto your palm to soothe the pain down, but you jerked your hands off of his grip and stared at his eyes.

"Do not tell me to stop what I'm doing just because I'm injured, it's my fucking job, something I love and I will continue to do it until I perish."

You snapped at him as he widened his eyes seeing your figure walk off cutting his words, right in front of him.

He shut his eyes tightly in rage, before storming upstairs, upset at the happenings of the day.

You had to cook dinner anyways and there's no other alternative, thus you managed to set the pan and crack open some eggs, deciding to fry them and finish it off with some cup noodles and chicken.

"Damn this is so hard how do I stir them now" in the end, you had to use your elbows to try beating the eggs, which was done in an uncomfortable position. Just then, a hand was placed on your waist, straightening your figure up, before taking the whisk in the bold hold of someone none other than your husband, Jungkook.

"I'm sorry, please let me do this. Go sit down." He apologized and decided to help you, but you wouldn't budge.

"If you wanna eat today, move. I'll manage this." You said, with a tint of coldness in your voice.

His breath was fanning over the subtle skin of your neck as he bent forward and placed a kiss there, and it kinda tickled your senses, as they fluttered into a lovely fluttering feeling that arose from the pit of your belly.

"Please." He raspy as your hands involuntarily left the whisk as he started beating the eggs, you still trapped between the counter and him.

Such close proximity and intimate pecks were new to your relationship as it was always the soft love until now. He somehow poured the eggs onto the pan and got them ready as his gaze diverted to your small figure, which he towered.

Once the eggs were perfect, a triumphant smile made its way to his face as his doe eyes bore into yours. You, cradled between his arms, did something to his senses, blood gathering at places he shouldn’t even think about right now, because he was a man. 

He places his lips on yours for a brief moment, but oh did he ever wonder, your small hands rising up timidly to his nape, continuing what he started as if you were starved. The makeout session did last for a while, as his hands trailed over your smooth skin, thighs and hands alike, your sleeve lightly giving up, as his lips traced you. 

"See, dinner is done now." His smile was worth fighting for, as he continued;

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier, princess, I was worried when I saw you whining and wincing in pain. I can't tolerate when my lovely woman is in pain. You don't know how I hurt, do you?" 

"It's okay, but never say anything against my work, please, I kind of hate it, anyone may it be." 

"I understand. We are in the first few chapters of our relationship, there might be a lot of likes and dislikes, and I'm ready to learn everything about you. Are you?"

"Yes I am." 

I'm ready to learn everything about you, was the new "I love you". 

[melankkholy]

anyone who knows what love is (will understand)

✎ Legend has it that the better you spend your last day of the year, the merrier your whole year promises to be. As superstitious as it may have always sounded to you, after a night without your boyfriend Leon, who abruptly left for “work” one night, perhaps you will change your mind about that particular wisdom.

cw(s): very angsty lol, fem! reader, smut but make it established relationship, t!t sucklings, lots of praises and metaphors, some lyrics from some specific songs cuz why not, p0rn with feelings obv, fingerings, p in v, MDNI

Late December in the city, the sky is gray and the air is tacky. You find yourself drifting in and out of sleep. In the mornings, cloaked in faceless clouds, you let the pale sun scorch the grass, and sometimes the hexagonal lace of snowflakes rattle your kitchen window. They are the only friends you have alongside the bitter mug of coffee you brew after you open your eyes to the dawn. For the last few days, you’ve been no different from a protagonist who could be the subject of the words written on any page of a book in which Dostoevsky describes his essential loneliness. More precisely, since the day Leon walked out that door. Your soul’s silence is deafening, yet there’s none but you in this very house. 

Who knows where he has gone?  

The joys of a romantic relationship with someone like him at first tasted delicious, and it left a taste in your whole chassis like a rare fruit that you were sure was not even from this terrestrial world.   

And sometimes, while you lay in bed, lost in dreams only God could understand, Leon’d slip away from the four-cornered plot of land you shared, that would always be your “home.” So quietly, so effortlessly, that you’d never suspect he was silently slipping into the night.

That’s what happened a week ago, and that’s what happened for the first time in weeks. Just like this morning, your arm that you threw out to wrap him in a good morning hug landed on his pillow with an idle and poof sound.   

He’s been gone for exactly a week. Hasn’t been answering his phone; the line is always busy, and after failed attempts, you stare at your screen for a couple of hours, followed by his long, inane apology messages.

“At work. Give me a sec. I’ll call you right back.” 

Wrapped in a relapse, this endless repetition of drama brings you to your knees. You keep watching the washing machine, its whirring and spinning, like some mechanical symphony. The phone rests heavily on your lap.

The clock strikes ten in the evening, and your eyes are raw, bloodshot from hours of staring at the unmerciful glow of the screen. The beeping of the washing machine cuts through the stillness, a mocking Bronx cheer to the cavernous emptiness inside your head. You rise from your knees, groggy, and load a few pieces of linen into the dryer.

The rumbling of your stomach has no hesitation in reminding you of your worldly responsibilities. You find yourself back in the kitchen as you realize that you’ve been on a cup of caffeine all morning.  

The nagging hope that maybe Leon will show up this evening pushes you to toss a little more pasta into the boiling water. Tonight. For sure. He must show up. 

Otherwise, you’ll take your leave. 

You ladle yourself a spoonful of the meal you’ve prepared for both of you, then sit at the table with two chairs. The chair opposite you is an empty, silent sphere. 

It’s eleven o’clock, and you chew and swallow your morsel until the lump in your throat tightens, refusing to go down. A dismal dinner tonight. The wine is thick as blood, but… it’s flat, uninspiring. The end of the year, and you’re dead alone.

There’s no energy left in you to answer calls from your family, even though you’ve been repeating the same things for a week straight, doing nothing else. Wake up, drink your coffee, do your vacuuming, cook for the evening. Bet your boyfriend is on his way. 

But he’s never on his way. 

Just as the clock strikes twelve, the afterglow of the snowfall lingers in the air, blending with the flashes of thunder from fireworks meant for the Fourth of July. A riot of colors, wild and unrestrained. Every shade is tangled and merged, each hue reaching out for the other. Everything that was meant for each other finally comes together tonight.

By the casement window, you entomb yourself in a troglodytic corner. It feels as though a year has slipped away since your boyfriend vanished without a word last week. The frost-bound gusts of snow from the foothills of the mountains have descended upon the city in a blanket of fog, yet the dark gray gloom seems to have done nothing to dampen the spirits of the people outside. 

The streets are teeming with joy, faces glowing beneath bundles of fur and mohair. They hold hands or hurl balls of fluffy snow at each other—men, women, and children. Their laughter rings out in the same exuberant vein as their voices when they counted down to the new year. 

Enough with all the peeping. 

You do envy them, because you once had a heart more floriferous than theirs. Yes, it’s trivial, this foolishness of pinning your welfare on a single man. But the heart knows better. Reason and logic are pushing up daisies.

So, you close your window and crawl into the saffron-colored sheets, just in time to spend another night alone.

This is Leon for you. He’s nowhere again. He owes you countless debts for the night. He owes you, big time. 

The avenue grows quieter and comatose with each passing detail of the late night. It’s a white orchid night with the first day of the new year in January, and the sky sheds its amber harmony to a royal blue. As the sun prepares to greet the city, the sound of keys jingling at the front door of your apartment vouches for the intruder’s safe intrusion.

Leon steps into your home at five in the morning and the odd minute before dawn. The space is haunted by an ageless calm, the grey walls of the room adding a suffocating dullness to the atmosphere. Nothing is in sight—neither you nor your adorable Van Cat that you adopted many months ago. 

Hanging his jacket on the coat rack in the foyer, careful not to make a sound, Leon hangs the keys onto their holder.

He’s a piece of work; he’s a dirtbag, and to face you like this, with his sores and boils, is the most humiliating indignity he can ever indulge in. He’s thought about telling you many times. If he does tell the truth, what can it do but forge a stronger bond between you?

If the DSO regulations weren’t so fucked up, he could have told you everything that was up in his head and everything else that was weighing him down. You’d listen to him forever. Besides you, he has no one else to turn a sympathetic ear to him.

When Leon opens the bedroom door softly, the sight of the silhouette in the corner of the bed sends a cold blast of chill down his spine. Here he is, right in front of you. Every time, even though you yearn to desert him, you never quite dare, because every time, the sublime, untouchable magic of something draws you here, into this vicious spiral. Yet he… He doesn’t deserve you, without knowing, without understanding, and yet you’re condemned to stay here, voiceless and stiff-necked. 

Sleep has forsaken you, perhaps. The filth of everything beclouded in this world that passes before your eyes hangs over you like rotten thoughts seeping from every corner, and Leon’s the only one to blame for it all. But, unfortunately, you don’t even have the gumption to reproach him. Maybe the root of this whole putrefying relationship was somewhere right here, in that eerie limbo. That limbo that is ready to wrap around you like a snake, implacably heinous.

Neither the creaking of the door nor the thud of his boots bouncing inside can alert you anymore. When he sits on the edge of the bed, his unaccustomed presence forces itself on you—his strange weight, his attention that doesn’t belong to you. In that fleeting moment, you wish you hadn’t turned your face to him, in those most vexatious moments of all, when all you have to witness is that breath he takes. 

A terrible ennui has possessed him, like a pallid shadow. The blues in his eyes have taken on those scarce, moonless shades of blue you hardly ever see, as if he carries all this overload—the cumulative weight of years—inside him. In those blues, your reflection is eclipsed. 

To see your reflection in his eyes… To be privy to this singular pleasure for weeks. It’s beyond words, but to experience it is hell descending on an already hellish world.

The knots in your throat refuse to let you spill your words. Even if you could, you would be shouting at him in an embarrassingly shrill volume, which would only serve the narrative of you playing the role of his already downtrodden damsel in distress in his estimation. 

You don’t want to be forward; you don’t want to cut corners. You savor this with all that’s inside you. The bittersweet road to a possible breakup and the most precious fragments of your mind, the scenarios hidden in the corners of your thoughts, still playing out in this bed. 

You’re biding your time. 

“Are you cheating on me?” Clear and unequivocal, but the way your lower lip quivers is another nuisance. Leon never thought he’d hate himself quite as much as he did at this juncture. Is he worth your tender tears? For that vent hesitating to flow, trembling with a mulish intonation? 

No. Not at all. 

Every second counts. You can’t read him, and the pall of obscurity is a parasite that wriggles inside you; it eats you. How poisonous. How venomous. 

“Never.” Leon shakes his head in disapproval. Funny how you’ve gotten to the point where you can now tell whether he’s fibbing or not by the look in his eyes. What an honor. 

“Where have you been then?” You pose the question with the desperation of a raving lunatic, bleeding and lost of all hope. Surely you must have startled him, for seeing him recoil pains you, too. 

“Work.” He slashes it off curtly. 

“Work? The hell are you, Leon? Fucking Batman?” 

Leon’s eyebrows carve a grimmer furrow. 

“Like you’d understand if I spit it out.” 

“I can’t understand because you won’t tell me!” 

You don’t know it, but he’s dying. You’re his salve, but your rebukes are toxic piles of tribulations that sap the life out of him. Even so, you’re in the right. Anyone else in your shoes would do the same. In fact, they’d walk away without giving any heed to all this. Why would anyone have a pash on Leon Kennedy in the first place?

He doesn’t make a fuss; his eyes are drawn to your trembling hands clutching the sheets, and he’s like a dog being berated by its owner. 

The problem is you can’t handle it. Never. You could never give up on him. Walking away is never easy anyway. 

The crude stitches on his right eyebrow, patched over a gash, attest to something he confronts every time he leaves you. You’re not blind. Your boyfriend is a man who is up to no good, but why is it so hard for him to clarify matters with you?

“What’re you so afraid of?” The question, now trickling out in a calmer whisper, reaches its destination. 

“Nothing.” He lies, looking you straight in the eyes. How dare he. 

The only thing he’s afraid of these last days is losing you. This thing, this house, that cat and everything else.

You don’t care. You pull his face closer, palm resting amenably on his cheek—your inmost sincere search. 

“You’re a big big liar.” 

Beautiful in your hands, but out of your hands, he’s something entirely different. He’s like a temperamental child.

He sows tender kisses into your open palm. Warms your bones. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your boyfriend like this. Now he’s in your hands and in your arms, no more Potenkim villages to hide behind. All that is right and all that is wrong is yours for the taking, and nothing is meaningless with him.

“Fuck me.” A dusted whisper of his demand leaks through his kisses, tangential to your skin. 

He’s a pretty straightforward guy, to be honest. 

As you gawk at him, he lifts his head and winks at you, as if he hasn’t made you vomit blood for eons. It’s a figure of speech, surely, but he gets the gist. Truly. 

“Ride me.” Once again, he describes what he needs. Sweet talk, after all, is the snake’s way out of the pit.

It’s absurd to hold back, especially in these precious last waking hours you share. All you do is look at each other, timid, esurient, and uninhibited. The profound coveting and the overwhelming silence of homesickness and something about nostalgia.

You promptly pull back the duvet and, on your knees, and reach for him to chastise at his frost-kissed lips. 

As forewarned, he doesn’t back down. In a fraction of a second, he reciprocates the kiss and winds his arm around the delicate curve of your waist. Congratulations. You’re on his lap, ass snug against the rough palming of his maneuvers. When you retaliate by pulling up the hem of his t-shirt, he, in return, pushes a thrust of his hips against you. The sizzle of his whispered “fuck!” rips through your ear. The hand at your waist inches upwards and lingers on the outline of your breast, and he palms the supple flesh carelessly.

Frenetic pairs of hands are everywhere, pawing through each layer of clothing, solely focused on the kiss or the lingering zest of wine from New Year’s Dinner on your lips. The razor-edged gasp from your mouth wafts across his lips, and he takes a brief pause from the kiss to undo your bra. Tentative yet fulsome kisses alight at the center of your chest—a tiny mitigation for your little broken heart—one you’re more than capable of forgiving him for. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Wet and warm kisses ramp up from the center of your chest to your fleshy curves. Across your ribs and higher and higher. You expect the same treatment and reverence for your beautifully diamondized nipples, but then he suddenly bites down on your sensitive nipple.

“Oh, fuck you!” Your hissing voice crackles with the throes of torment. 

A characteristic grin spreads across his face as he slides his hand down the elastic waistband of your panties. He tastes the wetness on his fingers, and you already find yourself shifting your hips closer to him. Unlike his cold touch, your pussy radiates warmth, and Leon relishes it, torn between biting his tongue and stifling a little groan. 

“You’re always wet for me, aren’t ya? Even when you hate me, even when you fucking love me.” 

Reflexively, you shake your head and implore him with a mock pleading frown. Your cheeks are tinted with a mauve splash of tint, and your lips are pressed tightly together. A strange sorrow grips you, standing on the precipice between hating him and loving him—a catharsis that’s tailor-made for you. 

“Didn’t you just want me to fuck you?” You grit out.

“Mmm. No kidding. I still do. Just wanted you on my fingers first.” 

“Been gone for some weeks, angel.” His whisper burns into your skin as he gently presses his finger into your slit. “Let me take a good look at you.” It’s as if he’s testing you. Almost instantly, you greet him with a tight grinding of your hips. Leon knows he has to give it his all. And so, he pushes his ring finger inside your drenched cunt, his thumb lingering on the pillow of your clit—his muscle memory hallowed. 

“Let me make it up to you.” 

It’s not that simple, of course, but right now, you’re the one sucking his fingers inside you. Blaming it all on him is silly anyway. 

The sheen of slickness, the familiar tightness stretching around his finger, and the burning desire in your eyes are more than enough incentive for him to move forward. The heat in your stomach intensifies as his pace quickens. The thought of his finger filling you with your own cum shames you so deeply. No shit. You weren’t that “enamored” of him. 

“Save it for the best, sweetheart.” 

Irrespective of the ultraviolet and blueberry bags under his eyes, his dirty humor in the early morning hours is such a Leonian rollercoaster. The sheer pressure of his erection against your thigh jolts you, a flash of realization. Oh. Shit. You’re really bouncing on top of your boyfriend, riding his fingers. 

Letting your boyfriend lap his sugar-coated finger against your lips, you don’t hesitate to take it in your mouth. Dumbstruck by the moment, Leon observes you with iridescent eyes brimming with mischief as your tongue orbits around his finger.

Now, it’s easy to get what you want from him when you want it. For the first time ever, you peel off his jeans and lift his t-shirt slightly to see the scars hidden beneath his layers of clothes. His color is so blue, the richest shade. His scars, his eyes, even his thoughts and pills—they’re all part of him. Your touch, something new and aglow, is something he ratifies you to lay on him. 

Beneath you, though, he smiles at you, pretty and unvigilant as he withdraws his finger out of your mouth. Oh, what could he be hiding from you?

If only you knew. 

“Eyes up, doll.”

There’s not a second of disgust on your face to protest him. He fishes out your panties and folds them in the palm of his hand, as you lower your hips towards him. He doesn’t move, only watches you arch, a moony curve, and the tip of his cock glides a smooth entrance.

“So tight—fuck! So fucking flawless,” he breathes, his words satiated with tenderness, slightly patronizing but wrapped in arrant affection. You adjust yourself, taking the girthy volume his cock deep inside, so so costively. The rest follows as he undulates his hips from below, making you feel like a dumb-fucked fool in the best way. 

Always supportive, always there for you—that’s his motto. But does he know how much you try to memorize how he moves inside you? The pattern of his golden lashes fluttering every time you dip your hips for him? How your heart races each time? How about you? In your warped mind, do you have the remotest idea that every time he pounds into you, of how he holds himself back and keeps you at arm’s length so that he might not hurt you? 

“You still won’t tell me where you’ve been.” You tap a sob against his chest, but it’s a façade, a mask for how much you’re affected by the situation.

So that serious talk will come in the middle of everything. He’s really going to have to do it. 

“There’s only one thing you need to know.” He’s so out of it, dyspneic. So much so that his skin is bathed in the valedictory waves of the morning sky and the blue gleams, rendering his skin milky as fig’s blood.

“Whatever I do... is for you now.” One faint whiff just after the succeeding one. Lips parted and flushed like pearl pomegranates. 

That’s what kind of an answer that is. The languor of his words just sticks to you. The cock that digs in and throbs inside you is another story, of course—are you falling in love for the first time or dying here?

Leon can’t perdure like this. He can’t. 

He pivots your body around, albeit he’s well aware that the fleshy tugs on your ass are slugs that perforate your dewy skin. 

The roles are reversed in a heartbeat; you now are thrashing beneath him, buried in your flowery-scented sheets and squelching mattress.

His teeth sink into his lips, and his jaw, working its way up your collarbone, races across the pulse-drumming veins in your unguarded throat. 

“Please. Tell me the truth... yourself.” You beg, so to speak, just against the shell of his ear. 

“Need to know.”

The words go where they are going, but Leon can’t help himself and takes a single bite of your tender skin. Hard, reckless, certainly, judging by your fingernails marring his biceps as you carve thin and grisly lunula trails. Custom-made, just for him.

“Sh-shit!” he stammers gruffly against you, where the piquant scents waft from your inner bosom. So, you really are angry with him, pinning him down and all. You’re such an asshole, Leon. That’s what he thinks. Of course, you’d grow indignant with all the shit you’ve been through because of his ebbing and flowing assholism.

Before you can pepper him with another question about where he’s been, his stroke on your cervix cuts off your breath; your sobbing and puffing sounds break into shrill whimpers. 

“Leon! Fuck!” 

His name is a litany on your lips; it’s nothing without you, nothing without your breath mingling with his. Your walls flutter around him, and he swipes his thumb across your puffy clit with a delectable token, his forehead melded with yours.

“I fucking love you—’n promise you—I’ll tell you everything.” 

You cum before him, plummeting into a deep, profound oblivion as he recognizes the ending of his languid thrusts. He can’t go on like this; it would be a miracle—the kind of miracle they write about in those religious tomes—if Leon could last much longer with your lovely pussy walls squeezing him like this.

Still, he’s not done. He churns inside you, trying to pour himself out to the last drop, give you all of himself. His breath jabbers in serrated gasps as he stills, paradoxically, and buries the sharp end of his jaw on your shoulder blade.  

Not a syllable from you or him transiently, only the soft chirp of the morning winter birds outside, the distant meow of your cat in the kitchen—everything seems to fade away in the causatum of your ephemeral serenity. 

“I’m... listening to you.” 

He can’t distract you from the subject and from finding the certain replication you’re counting on, can he now?

“I’m still inside you, and you’re still going on about my job?” 

He can barely flex his eyebrow, cross-examining you. 

You nod in response, and yes, you know you’re being ludicrous. You screw your face in a sour pitch. From him, you elicit a deep, vibrant snort of chuckle.

“Gotta make breakfast first,” he says, lulling your face in his hands dotingly. “Just for you.” 

“And you’ll tell me everything and anything?” 

“Yep.” 

“Promise?” 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

With a butterfly fugacious kiss on your forehead, he pulls out of you, and then the heat of his lips brushes on the tip of your nose. Bodily-liquids do strain the newly-washed sheets as the dewiness drips down on the velvety tissue of your thighs.

“I know I’m pretty useless,” he does impeach himself and lowers his gaze between your thighs, “I’m the reason you had a shitty last day of the year, but let me make the first day of your new year extra sweet. Just this one day.” 

Upon a small pinky promise kiss against your navel, he smiles at you, and you smile back at him. This is the ultimate make-or-break moment for him and you hope he uses it wisely.

[straightoutthehexcore]

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙖… 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩…?"

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧: Jayce Talis, Viktor

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧����: You're a tech designer tasked with assisting with designing and creating Hextech goods for Viktor and Jayce, and during a delirious frenzy (you crashed out) while designing, you thought of the logistics and design for something... new.

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: NSFW themes (mainly pegging, humiliation if you squint), AFAB reader

"Alright, as for design ideas, I only have one, and I'm going to ask you to please hear me out on this one..."

"Alright, let us see it."

"I uhh... are you... absolutely sure?"

"Why must you stall? Come, show us."

"...if you insist..."

𝙑𝙞𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨

"...this must be a gag, yes? I'll admit, this is intriguing."

He did not believe his fucking eyes. Using the hexcore as an energy source for... that? All he can say is that he definitely never thought about it.

He tried to play it off as a joke, sardonically commented on how vulgar it was, and after he realized it wasn't a joke, he looked at you and then looked back at Jayce, genuinely confused and not hiding his flushed face very well.

He pored over the blueprint and sketches, genuinely analyzing the design and the features of it, and had two immediate thoughts. 1) They took this... really seriously. Such depth to something so... trivial. 2) Not even in his dreams could he take that absolute MONSTER. But it was a blueprint, so things can change.

"Is... is there something you want to tell us...?

You tried to act business oriented but when you kept fumbling your words, it became increasingly obvious that you had zero idea what you were on about. The fact that Viktor stared dead into your eyes, watching you trip over your tongue, sure wasn't helping.

"It's a market rarely touched by other companies--" "it can aid in more funding for more important things-" "Bullshit."

Both you and Jayce looked at him, shocked at the profanity. Neither of you could tell if he was angry, flustered, or a little bit of both.

"You know you don't need an excuse, right? I'd much prefer forwardness, though this is... forward. In a different way, albeit."

"You think that's what this is about?" "I know what this is about, dear." "...very well." "That said...? Jayce, the final judgement is yours."

Viktor playing coy, everyone act surprised lmao

𝙅𝙖𝙮𝙘𝙚'𝙨 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨

"This is... what is this?"

While he looked at the sketches and initial blueprint with intent, he also tried to cover his face with it long after he read through everything. His face was insanely flushed, and he was worse at hiding it than Viktor.

Jayce was also utterly terrified by the size of the HexStrap, and that's part of the reason he got so flustered.

Started dissecting the materials listed down on sketches and trying to remain serious about the proposal, and Viktor looked at him like he was crazy because he was trying to seem actually, unironically serious, whilst failing miserably.

He was trying to back you up and make any excuse for its existence too, and it looked so pathetic to both you and Viktor (in an endearing way.)

"I mean they has a point with the... the sales aspect. Sure we have Councilor Medarda's funds, but it would still be beneficial to--"

At some point the knowing looks from both of you pierced through him. Viktor already called you out, but Jayce is still coping. He is coping hard. At some point, he gives up and leans forward in his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose.

It felt like he was deliberating more with himself and his conscience than he was with you or Viktor. He was, 100%.

He all in all accepted the proposal but for purely selfish reasons, as was made evident by the very visible boner and his hidden face. Teasing him would be too cruel and you were coming down from your own heightened anxiety, but God did you want to tease the crap out of him.

After that awkward session, Viktor did that job for you.

"Looking forward to... er... testing it, are we?" "I never said that, where did that come from--?" "Look at yourself." "Hey--"

Random idea I got, decided I'd add to the HexStrap discussion with how they would initially react to and come to accept the HexStrap :D

Thanks JayVik truthers, Rosey <3

[adoremio]

tasm! Peter pushing reader away bc he realized his deep feelings for her. He doesn't want another Gwen situation to happen, but reader reels him back and they make up?

wc: 1400 tw: g-dawg's death, peter imagines you dying, me trying to write like donna tartt and failing pretty badly

When Gwen died, it was deep into October, and New York City was at its most obscene––a cityscape draped in ochre leaves, gilded in morning frost, and stained by the cloying sweetness of pumpkin spice wafting from every corner cafe. That autumn, the sky was bright and brittle as shattered glass everywhere Peter went and the leaves fell in ghastly similarity to her.

Gwen’s death was his fault. He knew this. Knew it with the startling clarity of remembering a fever dream, and the dizzying weight of his own body pressing into the mattress on sleepless nights. Unable to outrun the guilt, he made a promise. Never again.

And then, of course, there was you.

🕷

It was early September when you walked into the chemistry lab, sunlight from the high windows casting a halo around your head. You’re not like Gwen. You don’t have her hard edges and sharp wit, more a soft kind of presence, like how the warmth of a fire hugs snow-bitten knees through a blanket. Peter had watched you drop your bag onto the bench beside him, casual, almost careless, and wondered why it made me feel like someone had struck a match inside his ribcage.

The teacher paired him with you, and you smiled like a whisper. "Peter, right?" you said. His name sounded strange in your mouth, too certain, too right, and it made him feel fourteen again, clumsy and stupid, trying to keep up.

Your voice was perfect. This thought was a wild, unwelcome one, but all the same drawn by the irrefragable veracity of his heart. 

“Um, I- yeah, that’s, uh, me.”

That was the first time he embarrassed himself in front of you. Not the last, though—God, not the last.

🕷

Falling for you was a slow-motion car crash, inevitable and excruciating. He told himself it wasn’t happening. He told himself he wouldn’t let it happen. But every week, there he was—sitting across from you at the cafe near school, your laugh wrapping around his ribs like wire, your smile making him forget, if only for a moment, the constant thrum of shame in his chest. 

He can remember one instance clear as day.

“You ever wonder, like, if the universe is infinite, are we already dead?”

Peter chokes a little on his coffee. “Way to have arbitrary thoughts fit for a study session.”

“No, it is though, because, if this isn’t real, then I shouldn’t-”

“Study? Yeah, I’m sure that will help your grade. ‘Mrs. Hornstock,’ I didn’t study because the universe is infinite.’”

“I don’t sound anything like that.”

“Oh my god-” He’s finally torn away from his computer to where your third finger is perched on the top of your mechanical pencil. “Don’t hold it like that, are you a psychopath?”

He tugs it out of your hand. “You click it with your thumb, see?” 

He looks up when you don’t respond, seeing the lock of your eyes on where he’s still holding your fingers. He drops you like he’s been burned and you snap out of your stupor. 

“Oh,” you rasp, quickly returning to your ramble with a frenetic urgency. “I just meant, like, what day is it? I don’t know, October-something, right? So-”

Peter doesn’t hear anything after that. It’s October. That hits him like a blow to the stomach, his ears ringing. It’s already been a year. He feels a nauseating sense of deja vu.

“-so like, in a hundred Octobers, when we’re both dead, today will have barely been real, you know? In the context of infinity. Are you listening?”

Peter is startled slightly. “Today will always be real.”

Nothing is scarier.

🕷

One day in February, Peter realized he liked you. And not in the safe, distant way he kept telling himself. No, this was something worse, something unbearable. Something with teeth. He liked you in a way that felt like betrayal.

That night, he dreamt of you dying. He saw it all, clear as day: the blood, the scream, the stillness afterward. He woke up gasping, the sheets twisted around him, Gwen’s name—or was it yours?—caught in his throat like a splinter. It was always the same in the dreams. The same unbearable ending, the same awful, whispering refrain: your fault.

You were waiting for him at the cafe the next afternoon, sitting at your usual table by the window. You had your phone in one hand and a paperback in the other, your bag slung carelessly over the back of your chair. The light caught in your hair, turned it into a crown of fire. He stood outside, his breath clouding the glass, and knew what he had to do.

He walked away.

The next week, the lab partners were reassigned. You ended up with someone else—a boy who always smelled faintly of Axe body spray and wore his backpack slung over one shoulder like a badge of honor. he sat across the room, meticulously measuring chemicals into a beaker, pretending not to notice the way your gaze flicked toward him every few minutes.

"Peter," you said, catching up to him in the hallway after class. "Peter, wait."

But he didn’t wait. He kept walking, his shoulders hunched against the tide of students, his heartbeat loud and erratic in his ears. He didn’t have the strength to look at you, let alone explain. What could he have said? That he was trying to protect you? That he was trying to save you from a fate you didn’t even know was possible?

You called after him one more time, your voice breaking slightly on the last syllable of his name. And then he turned the corner, and you were gone.

🕷

One day, after class ends, you corner him in the exit you knew he would take out the cafeteria.

His name escapes you, hurried like he could disappear at any second. “Peter," 

His eyes are fixed on the ground as he fidgets under the ten-ton weight of your stare. "Uh, yeah?" 

Fuck. He thinks. Don't look at her, don't look at her, don't look, don't-

You shake him a bit and he reflexively lifts his head, but that’s what he’s been trying not to do, and-

Oh. You look perfect. 

"Where- where have you been?” You ask quietly. “I  haven't seen you since october, I’ve-"

His big brown eyes snap up to meet yours and you have to stop talking for a bit as you register how close he is. His freckled nose is just a nose away from your own, and his lips look soft and pillowy.

His lips quirk to the side in nervousness.

You’re sure if anyone else were still in the room they’d yell at you two for blocking the doors, but it’s just you and Peter. Alone in the big open space of your school's underfunded cafeteria, flickery lights highlighting him.

“Peter?” You try again.

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?” You’re not sure why that’s the question you choose, not for lack of interest in the answer but mostly because it’s really not the point of the conversation. Except maybe it is. Something in the widening of his eyes tugs at your chest.

"I- yeah. Yeah, no, I’m, I’m great.” There’s a rawness to his tone that scares you slightly, even as his mouth breaks into a fake smile.

Your thumb presses the little dent in his inner elbow in a slight indication of worry and he flinches.

His head drops into your shoulder.

“Hey, Spidey, look at me.”

His head springs up in shock.

There’s a beat of silence. He watches you, fidgety.

“You know?” “Of course I do. I know you. You think I haven’t noticed all those bruises, and the fact that you never sleep, and the fact that he looks like you?”

“Under the suit?”

“Yeah. He looks like you. Your shape, and how you move.”

“I swing from buildings like how you would expect?”

You nod, and he laughs but there’s a tremble in his lips.

“Everything’s gonna be okay.” You slide a hand over the leather jacket on his back.

“You can’t know that,” and as you’re pulling him in all he can think of is Gwen, and-

“I love you, Peter Parker.” He can hear your heartbeat. “We’ll be okay.”

🕷

omg this is my first fic i hope you like it :)) please send requests if you did

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

2024 Writing Roundup

I've published way less this year than prev. Did publish 70k though.

FEBRUARY

The Ghost of You

Steve x Eddie. E. Grief, smut, ghost!Eddie, vampire!Eddie, unfinished WIP.

Steve regrets failing to protect Eddie, especially now he realizes his feelings for him. Eddie is in his dreams every night, and on his mind every day, but when Steve starts hearing his voice, and a strange man enters his life and asks him out, that’s when his connection to Eddie feels more… real. Almost like he is still alive.

Or, Steve is grieving what he could have had with Eddie, while Eddie is pulling the strings from the Upside Down to make sure they can be together. Set during the summer of '86.

APRIL

Messy Apology

Loki x Mobius. E. Apologies, introspection, blow jobs.

When Loki miscalculates a prank, they end up on their knees begging for forgiveness the only way they know how. But will Mobius forgive them?

MAY

Tell Me Some Things Last

Mobius and Sylvie. T. Emotional hurt/comfort, healing, happy ending.

Mobius is paralyzed by his grief after Loki sacrificed himself to save the multiverse. It will take Sylvie helping him to face his emotions to give him his own happy ending.

NOVEMBER

Reach Out From The Inside

Loki x Mobius. E. Angst, falling in love, disguise, pregnancy, little bit of sex, rescue, timey wimey.

Mobius walks through a timedoor and finds himself in a completely different place and time, meeting a beautiful tall black-haired green-eyed woman calling him Don.

Or, Mobius discovers his past in a way he never expected, uncovering things about himself and Loki in the process.

Under A Green Arch

Loki x Mobius. G. Wedding, family, fluff.

Mobius and Loki get married in their backyard in front of their friends and family. That's it. That's the fic.

12 drabbles for wanksgiving

Loki x Mobius. M/E. Various kinky and smutty shenanigans.

Belonging

Desire

Spit

Little death

Full

Dream

Need

Dagger

Say It

Harder

Wound tight

Trickle

Tagged by @cha-melodius 💕💕

Passing the tag onto @elodiah @kcscribbler @in-my-loki-feels @lokimobius @thosegayoldmen

@distracteddream @mobiusismycomfortcharacter @insomniaflarrow @blackbirdofasgard @dreamycloud

@lgwilt @mirilyawrites @underthebluerain @dancingwiththefae @dilfmobius

@megglesthegeek @eriquin @mojowitchcraft @andthekitchensinkao3 @highwarlockofphilly

And anyone else who wants to do this

[inell]

Only 100 links were allowed so here are the last few from 2024.

October

If Ever I Fall. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5600. It’s a rainy autumn night when Buck comes over to distract Eddie with pumpkins to carve.

Hall Pass. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5600. After Buck and Eddie take Jee and Mara trick or treating, Chim and Maddie play a trick of their own to help Buck finally make a move on Eddie.

Just Right. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4700. After getting injured on a call, Buck wakes up the next morning and tries to piece together what happened, accidentally changing his relationship with Eddie in the process.

At First Scent. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4150. When Buck visits Maddie, he meets Chris, a magic user needing his sister’s help learning how to use his powers. He also meets Eddie, Christopher’s dad, and feels a connection that he’s only ever dreamed of finding.

Sweet Surrender. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 4750. Sometimes, especially after a rough shift, Buck will have a specific itch that Eddie’s been learning how to scratch.

Failing Up. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4400. Buck accidentally kisses Eddie, feels like he made The Big Mistake, and finally talks to Eddie about it. Feelings get revealed, and Buck realizes maybe it wasn’t a mistake, after all.

A Little Reminder. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 2450. Whenever Buck gets into a mood where he feels like maybe he doesn’t deserve Eddie, Eddie is always eager to remind him that they belong together.

Secret Weapon. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 3500. Buck makes Eddie a few promises that his stubborn partner is refusing to let him keep. He has to use his secret weapon to get Eddie to surrender.

December

Napping. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 885. Buck and Eddie wake up from a nap.

To Know Who I Am. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2400. The feelings that Eddie has stirred within him are something new. Something that Buck’s never experienced before, which intrigues him and scares him all at the same time.

Tagging: @dangerpronebuddie @hippolotamus @cal-daisies-and-briars @theotherbuckley

@kitteneddiediaz @monsterrae1 @tizniz @diazsdimples @disasterbuck @lonelychicago

@lover-of-mine @littlefreakbuckley @queerdiazs @eddiebabygirldiaz @glorious-spoon

@becausebuckley @swiftiefirefighters @elvensorceress @honestlydarkprincess @hotshotsxyz

@absolutelybifurious @chronicowboy @clusterbuck @playinginthunderstorms @daffi-990

@dragonydreams @steadfastsaturnsrings @thatbuddie @treasurehuntbuck @tidesreach

@lookforanewangle @watchyourbuck @rosieposiepuddingnpie @organizedstardust @lesbianrobin

@not-so-secret-shipper @veronae-buddie @untherapized-eddie @half-bakedboy @spotsandsocks

@smilingbuckley @bekkachaos @shealwaysreads @sharpbutsoft @ithilien-writes

@butchdiaz @semperama @saucerfulofsins @bucks-daddy-issues @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

2024 Fic Round Up

I was tagged by @exhuastedpigeon & @rainbow-nerdss . This took me longer than expected but here it is. In 2024, I was able to break out of a block when I discovered a new fandom and fell in love with Buddie. I’m hoping that my writing beans return to me asap & 2025 is another great writing year for me. 🤞

A huge thank you to everyone who has read my fic this year, who have left comments and kudos and recced my words to others. It’s truly appreciated! Meeting new friends, reuniting with old friends, and continuing great relationships with mutuals and followers who are also into 911 has helped keep me inspired and creative.

Total fics written in 2024: 109

Words written in 2024: 552,421

April

Nightcap. Buck/Tommy. Adult. WC: 4366 After their first date goes a bit astray, Buck invites Tommy to his loft for a nightcap.

A Subway Ride. Bucky/Stiles. Teen. WC: 3030. Bucky and Stiles take the subway to Grand Central and have a talk on their way to meet Tony and the rest of the team.

Regrouping. Bucky/Stiles. Teen. WC: 4440. Stiles and Bucky find out what Jarvis has learned, and the team takes time to regroup.

Eyes Wide Open. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 3365. Tommy drops by and wants to talk, which has Buck drawing some wrong conclusions.

A Six Pack and an Ambush. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2500. Eddie has been avoiding him, so Buck ambushes him to find out why.

A New Chapter. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Teen. WC: 5450. Buck goes to Tommy’s house expecting bros night with Eddie. Instead, Tommy and Eddie have a surprise for him.

The Twelfth Date. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2100. Buck and Tommy go hiking on their twelfth date. Feelings are revealed.

Revelations. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Adult. WC: 2750. It’s a hot summer afternoon, and Buck is watching Eddie and Tommy work on a car when he accidentally says something out loud that changes their relationships.

A Surprise Visitor. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2521. Buck gets a surprise visitor when Tommy shows up after his shift.

Prize For the Night. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Adult. WC: 4505. When Tommy and Eddie get super competitive playing poker, Buck finds himself becoming part of their bet.

Hole in One. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2000. Buck and Eddie have a life-changing conversation during a game of mini-golf.

Mr. July. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5400. It’s time for the annual hot firefighter calendar to begin shooting, and Buck and Eddie are surprised to learn that they’ve both been selected to be Mr. July.

Surrounded By Idiots. Chimney & Buck. WC: 1700. During a ride with the team, Buck asks Chimney a question

Normal is Overrated. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2455. Buck and Tommy join Eddie for drinks, and a confession is made that changes their relationship.

Something Special. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 3825. Buck surprises Tommy with lunch during a shared day off.

Gonna Need a Miracle. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3970. Eddie is working an overtime shift when they get a call about a MVA with injuries. When they arrive and he sees Buck’s Jeep, he comes to a few realizations.

Resisting Temptation. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2420. When Christopher calls Buck to come check on Eddie, Buck isn’t expecting to have to resist temptation.

Finding Home. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 3270. While Buck takes a shower, Eddie uses his laptop to order some food. Only he finds something surprising in the open browser window that changes their relationship.

A Theory. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2830. Buck expects to have a fun night of bowling with Tommy and Eddie. Instead, Eddie gets an attitude, and Tommy has a theory.

Connect the Dots. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 10,560. “Let’s see how much we can get away with before they open their eyes and realize we’re together,” Buck says, moving his hand up Eddie’s arm to cup his jaw.

“If this backfires, I’m gonna blame you,” Eddie says, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss against his mouth. “But I’m in.”

Take a Leap. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 1405. Tommy and Buck have their first argument, which leads to a serious conversation.

Don’t Walk Away. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4000. When Buck starts avoiding Eddie after injuring him during a basketball game, May forces him to get out and have some fun.

Salvation. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2965. During the past few months, Eddie has learned a lot about himself and the true nature of his feelings for Buck.

It Takes Time. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 1590. Tommy knows that there’s still a lot that he and Evan don’t know about each other.

Best Laid Plans. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 6735. Buck goes to karaoke night with Maddie and Josh to distract himself from his jealousy over Eddie’s new friendship. His plan doesn’t work when Eddie shows up at the bar with Tommy , so he comes up with another plan—this one involving Josh and a fake date.

A Little Bruised. Buck & Maddie. Teen. WC: 2150. After Tommy breaks up with him, Maddie comes over to give Buck some big sister comfort.

Bright Like the Sun. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4800. A routine call causes Eddie to make some decisions that help him move his relationship with Buck to the next level.

Breathless. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2775. Chaperoning a middle school dance isn’t how Buck expects to spend his night off, but he can’t ever say no to Eddie.

Never Felt Luckier. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2301. After the 118 has a tough night, Tommy takes care of Buck and Eddie.

Where He Belongs. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3575. Christopher surprises Eddie with a conversation about life and happiness, which encourages Eddie to take a risk regarding his relationship with Buck.

First of Many. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2630. While the 118 is on a rescue mission, Eddie and Buck share a moment that changes their relationship.

Dinner and a Show. Buck/Eddie/Tommy. Adult. WC: 5500. Buck has been dating Eddie and Tommy separately for months. Tonight, they’re finally coming together as three, and he’s got it all planned.

Unexpected Proposition. Buck & Ravi. Buddie. Teen. WC: 3050. When Buck picks up an extra shift, Ravi gets pushy and helps him realize a few things about himself and his feelings about Eddie.

May

Orange Crush. Buck/Connor. Adult. WC: 3500. After losing Devon at the roller coaster, Buck is having trouble sleeping and dealing with the failure of his caller dying. Connor offers to help him relax so he can sleep.

Downtime. Eddie & Hen. Buddie. Teen. WC: 3100. It’s a quiet day at the station when Hen checks in with Eddie, unexpectedly leading him to talk to Buck about his feelings.

Two Plus Two Equals Five. Buck & Chimney. Teen. WC: 4530. A couple of days after Chim and Maddie get married, Buck goes to visit Chim in the hospital and fill him in on everything he missed.

SOS. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 6000. When Eddie receives a SOS text from Buck asking for his help, he isn’t expecting for a sex toy mishap to lead to them admitting their feelings for each other.

Like a Bronte Heroine. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3900. Eddie keeps getting lost in his thoughts while waiting for Buck to come over to watch the game.

Weather the Storm. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3700. The morning after they confess their love, Eddie and Buck navigate telling Christopher about their relationship.

Special Couple Smile. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2700. During a rough shift, Eddie and Buck find some time to talk and have a moment together.

A Good Surprise. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4050. When Buck gets back to the station after an appointment, Bobby tells him there’s a surprise waiting for him upstairs.

Dilemma. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2840. Buck and Eddie go for coffee after their shift.

Distorted. Eddie/Kim. Adult. WC: 1185. Eddie goes to Kim’s house after a second date, and he realizes he’s fucked up.

Love Dares You to Change. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 7650. After realizing that Abby isn’t coming back, Buck goes to a club to find someone to share his night. He ends up meeting Eddie, who changes his world.

Stir Crazy. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2070. When Buck has to take medical leave for a few days, he gets so bored that he finally reads a book he’s had buried in his closet while waiting for Eddie to come over.

You and Me Forever. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 7900. When Buck gets struck by lightning and enters a coma dream, he chooses to go back to the real world, even though Eddie doesn’t know that they’re soulmates.

Paint the Sky. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2200. Buck and Eddie take Christopher and his friends to play paintball.

A Little Cliché. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3000. Buck takes Eddie to a lake for a relaxing day that leads to them confessing their feelings for each other.

Afternoon Coffee. Buck/Tommy. Teen. WC: 2600. Tommy wakes up in Evan’s bed and reflects on their relationship.

Brain Fog. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3000. When Buck has the flu, Eddie comes over to help take care of him. Too much cough medicine leads to an unplanned confession.

Before Dinner Snack. Buck/Tommy. WC: 3002. Tommy has Evan over for date night, and Evan’s craving a snack before they order dinner.

Catch My Fall. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5330. During a search to find a missing hiker, Buck and Eddie get trapped and feelings get admitted.

June

Bullseye. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5100. After another awful shift with Gerrard, Buck is surprised when one of the captain’s verbal attacks actually bothers him. Eddie offers him support and makes a confession during the commute home.

Man Down. Buck & Ravi. Buddie. Teen. WC: 4365. During a warehouse fire, Ravi and Buck work together and have a talk about their current circumstances and possible future.

Chance Encounter. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3330. When Eddie and Buck go to the Hollywood Farmer’s Market, Eddie doesn’t expect to run into his ex-wife for the first time since moving to LA two years ago.

Take the Lead. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 1300. Buck and Eddie finally have a conversation that they’ve needed to have for months, if not years.

Plenty of Time. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2800. Buck died, and it turned Eddie’s world upside down. Now, a week after Buck returns to work, he’s dozing on Eddie’s couch, and Eddie’s waiting for a sign.

Being Selfish. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4075. It’s been a little more than six weeks since Eddie’s life became a chaotic mess. Luckily, he’s had Buck’s support and constant presence to help him get through it.

Walk With Me Out on the Wire. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3800. Chris has been gone for two weeks, and Eddie is handling it as well as he can, but Buck refuses to let him deal with it on his own.

All of Me. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2550. Buck has been there for Eddie during the nearly three months since Chris went to Texas. Eddie is in a good place and makes a confession that changes their relationship.

One Look at You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4000. Eddie and Buck are enjoying a night out when lines get blurred and feelings are finally admitted.

A Love as True as Mine. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4300. After Buck gets injured during a call, he overcomes some personal issues and ideas of love with Eddie’s help.

Cursebreaker. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4450. Buck is nervous about his apparent dating curse ruining his first date with Eddie. Lucky for him, Eddie doesn’t believe in curses.

The Moment is Here. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2550. Eddie has been in love with Buck for longer than he cares to remember but he’s been scared to jeopardize their friendship. Lucky for him, Buck is feeling brave this morning.

July

A Good Time Not a Long Time. Buck/Connor. Teen. WC: 3200. Buck and Connor have been casually having sex while Buck’s enrolled at the fire academy. When he decides to try to take their relationship to the next level, he realizes that he and Connor aren’t on the same page at all.

I Can See Clearly Now. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4800. During a simple call, Buck finds himself locked in a lab after a possible exposure with Eddie and the rest of his team on the other side of the glass doors.

Talk to Me. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5505. Buck takes Eddie camping to get away from the city when Chris is in Texas. During the hike to their campsite, they talk about the past and realize they have a future together.

And There You Were. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4200. After admitting their feelings for each other and spending the night together, Eddie wakes up to find Buck in the kitchen and decides to distract him.

Kismet. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5810. When an old friend asks him for a favor, Eddie temporarily trades his turnouts for a camera to help film a reality dating show. He certainly doesn’t expect to fall in love with Buck, the star of the show, though.

A Promise Made is a Promise Kept. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 52,036. When the 118 gets called to a multi-vehicle accident, Buck doesn’t expect to find a familiar face amidst the wreckage, and he makes a promise that ends up altering the course of his life. Fortunately, he has Eddie and his family to help, but he soon realizes that his relationship with Eddie is also changing.

Sparks Fly. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 570. Eddie meets his match when reporter Buck shadows the 118.

Seeing Stars. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 715. Buck and Eddie are best friends who have been pining for a while when Buck finally makes a move.

Go For the Gold. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 1600. It’s the last Olympics that Buck will be part of, and Eddie doesn’t want to lose him.

The New Probie. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2300. Eddie and the rest of A shift don’t know that Bobby’s hired a new probie until he meets his new partner, Evan ‘just call me Buck’ Buckley.

Eternal Flame. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 2700. Buck and Eddie are part of the California Interagency Hotshot Crew, and they’ve been friends for years. When they’re trapped in the middle of a raging wildfire, the extent of their feelings are revealed.

August

Sketches of You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 8100. After Christopher went to El Paso, Eddie’s had a lot of time to think while also rediscovering his interest in drawing. He’s finally ready to tell Buck how he feels about him in the best way he knows how—through his art.

I’m Yours. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 6105. While helping Eddie do some home renovations while Chris is in El Paso, Buck has been encouraging him to make choices based on what he wants. Eddie applies that lesson to their relationship and decides to be selfish for once.

How Our Story Ends. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 6100. When Buck and Eddie are sent into an apartment building that’s on fire to search for squatters, Eddie finds himself in a situation where he prays that the universe is actually real and listening to him.

Choosing You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3105. Eddie has been patiently waiting for Buck to be ready to take their relationship to the next level. After a couple of months, Buck realizes that the ball is in his court.

Learning to Compromise. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4050. Buck and Eddie moved in together two weeks ago, and they’re learning how to compromise about the things that never came up until they were living together. Case in point, preferred grocery store for their weekly shopping trip.

First Date Nerves. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 5140. Buck and Eddie are on their first date, both nervous about taking their friendship to the next level. Neither one wants the date to end, though, so they continue it at Eddie’s house.

Perfect Fit. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3110. Buck drops by to talk to Eddie after his break up with Tommy ends up with an unexpected offer. Eddie realizes that it’s time for him to finally make his move before it’s too late.

Keep Holding On. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3230. When a rescue goes wrong, Buck and Eddie find themselves in danger and feelings get admitted.

The Way to a Man’s Heart. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5400. When Eddie texts Buck to ask him over for dinner, Buck thinks something odd is going on, but nothing prepares him for what Eddie has planned.

No Regrets. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 4800. Buck and Eddie’s relationship changes with an impulsive kiss during a rerun of Chopped. It’s now a few hours later, and Buck wants to make sure that Eddie doesn’t have any regrets

Crazy For You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 4600. While hanging out watching a baseball game & drinking beer, Eddie shares his honest opinions regarding Buck’s relationship. Four days later, he confronts Buck to find out why he’s been avoiding him since then.

Kindred Spirits. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 73,280. Eddie has been a member of Paranormal Research Group for nearly four years after being recruited during one of their investigations. During that time, he’s found a job he enjoys, created a family that cares about him, become an unwilling reality TV star, and fallen in love with his best friend and partner, Buck. The team is traveling across the country filming the second season of their hit reality show, Haunted Case Files, and Eddie’s unknowingly going to find his skepticism challenged when Buck sets out to prove that there’s such a thing as destiny and fate, and that some things are meant to be.

Sealed with a Kiss. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 8100. When Buck goes to the beach to get away from Abby’s empty apartment, he ends up saving a kid from drowning. He isn’t expecting to meet Christopher’s father, Eddie, who also happens to be Buck’s soulmate.

September

Perfect Opportunity. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 8000. Buck and Eddie are working a shift together several weeks after their relationship became something more than just friends. It’s after midnight when Buck finds the perfect opportunity for them to make one of his fantasies come true.

Constant Craving. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 7800. Buck and Eddie have recently started dating, and it’s their third official date. While playing a game of pool, they make a little wager, and Buck gets to indulge a craving he’s had for years.

A Possible Connection. Bucky/Stiles. Teen. WC: 6205. Bucky has to go to Poland with Natasha to pick up Clint, and Stiles finally finds a clue that might help connect Carrie Hill with Tommy Mata.

Friendly Advice. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 6800. When Ravi asks Buck and Eddie to have dinner with him, they don’t expect him to ask them for advice on how they remained friends after breaking up. The issue? They’ve never been a couple.

Pretty Kitty. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 3700. After a rough shift, Buck helps Eddie shake it off and let go.

Negotiations Over Spaghetti. Bucky/Stiles. Teen. WC: 5315. Stiles meets up with Peter and Lydia before work. When he gets to the hospital, he catches up with Susie.

Reaching For You. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5600. While getting Eddie to safety after a sniper attack, Buck realizes that they might be soulmates and has to make a difficult choice.

Ready Now. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 5150. When Eddie starts to avoid him, Buck decides to find out what the problem is so he can try to fix it.

Helping Hand. Buck/Eddie. Adult. WC: 5200. When Eddie arrives early for their date, he catches Buck in a compromising position and offers him a helping hand.

Overkill. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 3700. Buck and Eddie figure out the best way to approach an important conversation with Chris. As per usual for them, they go overboard and have to revise their plans.

Happy Accident. Buck/Eddie. Teen. WC: 6150. When Buck gets some good news, he accidentally kisses Eddie, which leads to a conversation that changes their relationship.

To be continued

[heavenlymorals]

The Tragedy of Dutch Van Dir Linde

Warning: spoilers ahead for both Red Dead games.

Dutch Van Dir Linde is one of the finest characters I've ever come across and that I think about a lot because in many ways, he is represents the dreams that people have and the awful reality of it too.

Heytham, what the hell do you mean that this manic, selfish, delusional piece of shit is like you or me?

Here is an example. When you were a kid, did your parents tell you that your dreams will come true if you worked hard? And did you believe it? I know I did. I studied often, got a great SAT score, joined many extracurriculars, did volunteer work regularly, got a part time job, had all high grades in advanced level courses and in AP/honor programs and I had one goal. To get into my dream college.

I made my resume. I did everything right. I listen to what people better than me told me to do and I waited for that acceptance letter- so confident that I would get into the university. Never once did I imagine that I'd get rejected, but I did. For a 17 year old kid, it felt like the world was ending. I remember sobbing myself to sleep, waking up, and then just laying on my bed disappointed in the world and the lies it fed me. In a perfect world, I'd have gotten accepted. Worst people than me got accepted, why couldn't I?

But I moved on. Life continued and I was fine. I was bitter, sure, but I managed to get over it and work towards better paths and a better future.

But what if I didn't? What if I got hung up on that forever? What if I fought the rejection? What would I have done? What would I have not done?

This little experience, one that many people have gone through, is kind of a microcosm of the much bigger human truth that the world will never be an ideal place due to the human nature.

If I was like Dutch, I would have fought the rejection- I would stick so diligently to the ideal that I believed in so hard, even though that failure was more than likely a guarantee. I wouldn't find an alternative to be better and do better things. I'll get hung up on a dream and never move past it.

That's his dilemma. He believes in the ideal, like we all do, but he will fight tooth and nail to make that ideal real while we will sigh and realize that life will never be the way we want it to be.

Dutch feels betrayed by the world, or at least by his vision of the world- especially America.

America was a country built on the promise of all men being born equal under God and under the law. All men.

That was the dream, the hope, and the promise.

What happened instead? The continuing of the institute of slavery, the massacre of natives, the monopoly of magnates, and the constant discrimination of those not considered 'white'.

It was disgusting and awful and it should've never happened- but it did and people tried to remedy it in ways that were gradual but real. They found different paths and different dreams and though there is still much work to be done, people are finding a way.

Dutch couldn't do that though. He refused to do that. He wanted the ideal and he wanted it immediately, even though it was impossible. He killed for his ideal, he robbed for his ideal, and he led people to hell for his ideal.

But it didn't matter. His ideal will never exist and he couldn't accept that- which leads to his end.

He won't be caught. And he didn't get caught by commiting suicide- a final fight. He wouldn't surrender to John or the Pinkertons, because that would mean admitting that his entire life was a struggle for nothing because his vision will never be realized if people like Cornwall or Favours or the professor continue to exist. Life was hell because of those people and the American dream did not exist because of those people.

"What a beautiful dream. So poorly rendered," - Dutch to Arthur.

And Dutch is right! From the very beginning that this country was created, it relied on an ideal that turned out to be a lie.

And Dutch couldn't handle that and wanted a perfect world that can never be realized and he tried to get that perfect world by lying and stealing and cheating and killing. What a depressing dichotomy.

Now, of course, when it comes to the personal motivations of Dutch, whether pride, hubris, narcissism, or any of that, they can all by factors to Dutch's pointless battle, but his motivation has always been clear and it never changed-

"Yeah, I know it's tough. You like Dutch. He's a charming fellow. He makes sense. He's like one of those nature writers from back East. Only he takes things a tiny little step too far. Rather than just loving the flowers and the animals and the harmony between man and beast, he shoots people in the head for money. And disagreeing with him. Now, I'm not a great intellect, but the metaphysical leap from admiring a flower to shooting a man in the head because he doesn't like a flower, is a leap too far." Edgar Ross to John Marston.

Dutch lived and died to create an ideal that would never be real because he could never accept reality and that is one of the saddest fates a man could have.

[soniclozdplove]

Got more mermaid thoughts because of @skumhuu and their au. I guess you could consider thus a hasty continuation of my last one but it's really based on a fic I'm writing in my notes that will likely never see the light of day because I refuse to take credit for any writing I ever do

[hirokiyuu]

look at my alternate yuu concept boy

[tenwhiteandalusians]

pertaining to the idea of tenax’s band of strays i do think it’s touching that the kids are the ones who saved him and waited outside the door to make sure he’s okay. for all tenax claims to be harsh and cruel it’s a fine indicator of his character that the kids won’t rest without him and are there every time he’s in danger.

[usuallydyinginside]

"No One Mourns the Wicked" is about Glinda, not Elphaba

Okay, but hear me out. Wicked songs are so good at saying one thing and meaning something entirely different once you have more context. For instance, "I'm Not That Girl" is Elphaba singing about Glinda initially, then in Act 2 flips to Glinda singing about Elphaba. Because it turns out, Elphaba IS that girl and Glinda is not. When we meet the Wizard, he sings about how he always wanted to be a father. When you get to Act 2, you get the sad little reprise in the background music as he realizes that WHOOPS, he was one and he destroyed his only kid. "Defying Gravity" starts with "I hope you're happy" in the sarcastic sense and ends with them both using the same phrase to genuinely wish one another well.

"Thank Goodness" is set up as a cheerful engagement song where Glinda genuinely means "thank goodness for how great my life is" and ends in a place where she's insisting that she IS happy even as she realizes her engagement is a sham, her best friend is gone, and she's left with the Wizard and Madame M, who she doesn't even like.

You get the picture.

Basically, the whole musical is about subverting what you expect, starting with the base premise of "what if the Wicked Witch was the hero of the story" and digging in from there.

Honestly, I'd never paid much attention to the first song. It's a good opener, sets things up well, but it has some big competition with later songs. However, in the movie the staging and camera choices made me really notice it for the first time. Because you know what? Someone DID pay attention to that song, and you can really really tell.

For those who need a refresher, the lyrics to the chorus Glinda sings are: And Goodness knows The Wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The Wicked die alone It just shows when you're Wicked You're left only On your own I was always so busy noticing Glinda's grief over thinking Elphaba was genuinely dead that I failed to notice Glinda's grief over her OWN fate. The movie did such a good job with this because every time we get to the pink lines about being alone, Glinda IS alone. She is standing apart from the crowd who adores her. Standing above them. Standing at the center of a bunch of people yet still, isolated.

Because in the end, we know that Elphaba DIDN'T die alone. We know she wasn't on her own. We know her life WASN'T lonely ultimately. She had her flying monkey and animal friends. She had Fiyero.

And who does Glinda have?

Everyone, but realistically, no one. She is an ideal, not a person to most of Oz, just as much as Elphaba has become the token scapegoat. Where Elphaba is the "Wicked Witch," Glinda is "Glinda the Good Witch" - she is literally supposed to be the embodiment of goodness.

And what does Glinda have at the end of this whole thing (as of this song at least)? A disastrous end to her engagement, the death of her best friend, a sorceress who has hated her, demeaned her, and dismissed her from the start, and a con man who is also just a symbol more than a person.

I think it really hit me when Glinda throws the fire on the giant effigy of Elphaba. Ariana's acting was SO good there, because I'd expected us to see that private moment of horror or regret. What I didn't expect was the sort of determined and almost angry glare at the effigy.

But it makes sense. At this point, Glinda has realized that she lost everything and everyone she actually cared about.

As she so aptly puts it in "Thank Goodness"...

Though it is, I admit The tiniest bit Unlike I anticipated. But I couldn't be happier, Simply couldn't be happier, Well, not "simply" 'Cause getting your dreams It's strange, but it seems A little, well, complicated.

There's a kind of a sort of cost. There's a couple of things get lost. There are bridges you cross You didn't know you crossed Until you've crossed!

And if that joy, that thrill Doesn't thrill like you think it will Still-- With this perfect finale, The cheers and the ballyhoo! Who wouldn't be happier? So I couldn't be happier, Because happy is what happens When all your dreams come true.

Well, isn't it?

Happy is what happens when you're dreams come true.

It's not Elphaba's fault that Glinda has ended up this way. Glinda chose it every step of the way. Yet, if Glinda had never met Elphaba, (if she'd never known her, you could say), she might have stayed shallow and vain. She might never have been challenged to look deeper and realize how empty it all felt.

So as Glinda sings "No One Mourns the Wicked," she realizes that even if the Munchkins are singing about the "Wicked Witch," she's not.

She's singing about herself.

The one who traded her morals, friendship, and love for a taste of the admiration and power over those who don't really know her. The one who was so worried about being likable that she herself doesn't like who she's become.

Even after she makes things better for Oz and herself by sending the wizard away and getting rid of Madame M, it just leaves Glinda by herself as the leader and source of goodness in Oz. It leaves her on a pedestal she can never step off of.

It leaves her lonely.

Entirely alone.

[readwritealldayallnight]

I would love a take on boyfriend Ghost coming home to surprise you, but he finds your bed empty and doesn't realize that you are in his room in his bed. Thanks.

The placebo effect, was what he kept trying to convince you it had to be, no matter how many times you rolled your eyes and told him he was wrong

How else could one explain your insistence that Simon’s bed smelled so much like him, becoming your safe space when he was away on long deployments, when he only ever slept with you in your bed most nights to begin with

Hard to believe it was nearly three years ago now that you’d told your friend since childhood, Johnny, about how your search for a new flat was going miserably. You remember how he’d perked up and recounted with a mischievous glint in his eye about how his Lieutenant was apparently searching for a flat mate at the moment, someone who’d be looking after the place while he was away for work

Unsure about living with a strange man you’d never met before, but trusting Johnny’s judgement (though the way he seemed just a bit too eager about this meeting did kind of throw you off-) you had reluctantly agreed to meet with him and at least give the flat a glance before you simply turned him down

It wasn’t until you were knocking at the door of the address Johnny had written down for you, that you’d realized he’d never even given you the man’s goddamn name, only ever referring to him at Lieutenant or LT

Johnny apparently also failed to mention the absolute SIZE of the guy, his huge frame blocking nearly all of the light from behind him as he had swung the door open and stood in the doorway before you

In a slight panic, thrown off by the massive man before you and the way the butterflies in your stomach suddenly began to flutter at the sight of him, you had greeted him for the first time with a squeaky, unsure voice saying ‘Um, hi, are you the Mr Lieutenant?’ (something he has never let you live down since)

He knew then and there that you would be the one

Not just his flatmate (though what a generous flatmate he was when he offered insisted on moving all your boxes out of your old place and into his that very same day), but the one, something he reluctantly had to give Soap credit for, seeing as he was the one who wouldn’t stop talking his ear off about you

You would be his other half, his better half

And all these years later, the two bedroom flat truly only acted as a one bedroom, considering that from the start Simon was always falling into your bed with you at the end of each night, limbs tangled together under the warmth of a lovers embrace a thousand times more comforting than an actual comforter

Still though, that first time Simon had to be gone for work longer than a few weeks, you found the lingering odor of him clinging to his bedsheets to be one of the few things keeping you sane in his absence, taking to sleeping in his room for the time being, imagining that the pillow you cling to your front was a strong muscular arm instead, littered in scars and tattoos you feel confident you could recognize from touch alone

And when his long awaited flight back home to you landed a few hours earlier than expected, tires touching down in the dark, stillness of late night hour, he decided he’d surprise you and come straight home, rather than calling you to meet him at the base like you’d insisted, not wanting to wake you

Barely able to contain himself, he decided the elevator ride up to the seventh floor would take too long, take away precious seconds that brought him closer to you, and so up the flight of stairs he went, taking them two or three at a time, rushing to see the face etched behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes, to hear the voice that haunted his dreams each night

Quietly as a man his size could, he crept into the flat, snuck his way into your room, expecting to see your sweet, sleeping form cuddled up amongst the blankets and pillows. But his heart dropped when he noticed the bed was still perfectly made, not a thread out of place.

Trying to remain calm, though his mind was instantly swarming with every possible scenario that could have taken place, he knew he saw your shoes and jacket by the door, you couldn’t have gone far… but where were you?

He glanced into the living room, wondering if he missed you sleeping on the couch after a long day, he poked his head into the bathroom, even went so far as to check the small balcony, but finally there was only one door left to open.

And there you were, safe and sound, a tiny ball curled up into the center of his huge bed, clinging to one of his old masks and holding it close to your chest as though it were a security blanket (you’d been sleeping in his bed so much you needed something that still smelled strongly of him, you were getting desperate)

Stripping himself down to only his boxers, he tiptoed towards the side of the bed, his mind finally feeling more at peace than he ever had, gently pulling the sheets back just enough for him to slip in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you into his muscular chest

Though it should be alarming to suddenly feel a pair of hands roaming over your skin, a body holding you firmly against their own, it’s as though your body knows who it is before your mind does

Any tension you were still holding onto during his absence instantly melts away, your own hands coming to land over top of his, giving a slight squeeze of acknowledgment, not yet willing to fully leave your half asleep state, but needing to touch him, to confirm he really is here

“Hmm,” You hum, voice groggy with sleep and a smile slowly stretching across your lips, snuggling further into his embrace. “You’re home.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in, wishing he could bottle up the scent of your shampoo and lotions and perfumes, if only to have something to hold onto while he’s away, understanding now why he found you in this bed rather than your own

“I am.” He whispers into your hair, sensing that you’re already drifting back into dream land, safe in his arms and his bed, knowing he’ll be there when you wake. He feels his chest tighten when he knows that you weren’t talking about the fact that he’s physically home, in the flat, but something more, something much more, because he means the same thing when he tells you, “You’re my home too, love.”

[sunarc]

Geto’s tired of listening to you fail to get yourself off. It's another late night of your touching yourself but seemingly unable to bring yourself to an orgasm. He doesn’t think he can go another night listening to the frustrated sighs probably because your fingers don’t reach the spot you’re desperately craving them to touch. If you need help why don’t you just ask. He’s more than willing to give you what you need. 

He sat leaning against the wall listening to your whimpers. His hand moves in slow motions pumping himself to your voice. 

“Just let go baby it’s so easy” he whispers eyes closed listening to your harsh sighs.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock while his head lulls back. He knows you need him. He can have you cumming in seconds. His mind is running a mile per minute with thoughts of how pretty you probably look with your legs spread stretching yourself out with your fingers. His thoughts run rampant but they are cut short by a frustrated groan coming through the walls. Something takes over Geto because before he realizes his actions his knuckles knock softly against the wall. He hears you shuffling before you whisper softly.

“Yes?”

“Do you… need help?” he’s not sure what has possessed him. This can go one of two ways and he’s praying it goes how he's imagining it. 

You’re silent for a minutes presumably contemplating his question. The silence feels like it's clawing at his brain. He almost wants to take back what he said but it’s far too late for that. 

“I-” he’s cut off by your voice

“Yes” you whimper.

Geto’s heart feels like it might jump out of his chest. Did he hear that right? He scrambles to his feet realizing that he now has to act on his words. His feet carry him to your room and it feels like he might be floating. When he opens the door there you are spread out just as he imagined with a pout on your face. 

“Please help” you whimper. 

Geto is by your side within seconds eyeing the way slick drools down your cunt. “Fuck you look so good” he breathes. 

He moves your hand gently and replaces it with his own. His fingers feel so much better than your own. He reaches spots you can only dream of reaching. 

Geto’s eyes watch the way you arch into him feeling the way his fingers glide against your walls. A small smirk appears on his face as he watches you close your eyes feeling pure bliss. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good princess?” his voice is soft whispering the sweet words to you. 

You nod your head too focused on chasing after your orgasm to reply with words. 

“Look at you. You needed me didn’t you? Look at how your falling apart for my fingers. Wait until you get my cock baby.” He leans into you pressing kisses against your neck. His arm holds your body close to his while his fingers massage your core send sparks of pleasure through your body. 

“Come for me pretty, Let me see you make a mess” he groans in your ear. 

You body jolts from the orgasm. Your hands grip onto Geto shaking from the orgasm you were chasing. 

“That’s it, just like that, so good for me” he kisses your shaking form. 

You don't have enough time to come down from your before Geto is flipping you over and push you down into an arch. 

“Let me get a taste before I fuck you to sleep princess”

His hands spread your ass cheeks so he can see your slick cover cunt. His tongue glides between your folds. He licks and flicks your clit while his hand massages the fat of your ass. 

“Taste so good baby” he breathes 

His groans sound heavenly as he licks between your folds as i you’re his favorite meal. He’s in a land of pure bliss tasting you. He hums as his tongue dips in and out of your hole messily eating you. Geto has never felt himself losing control in this way. There’s something about you. Something that possesses him. He wants you, needs you in the most lewd way. Thoughts of you cumming on his cock plague his mind. His heart is beating in his chest harder than ever. This doesn’t even feel real. To have you in this way spread out with your ass in the air all for him has his cock achingly hard. 

“You ready for me Princess?” he groans pulling back taking a deep breath. Your slick pools down his chin. 

You nod your head desperately while your hand grip the sheet eager to feel him at your entrance. Geto places the tip of his cock at your entrance treasuring the way you whine for him to put it in. He loves how desperate you are for him. He lovees that you crave him the same way he crave you. 

“I’m gonna take my time with this” he whispers. 

His hand massages your hip as he inches his cock deep into you. He’s big and no amount of finger could have prepared you for him. You burn with pleasure feeling his cock stretch you out. 

“‘ S-so big” you whine.

Once he bottoms out he holds that position. He bites his lip while his fingers hold onto your hips.

“Fuck- you don’t understand how long I’ve wanted to do this” he lets out a heavy sigh as he closes his eyes. His pace start off slow. He wants you to feel every inch of his sliding inside of you. 

“You’re taking me so well baby” his voice soothes you as he fucks you. His thrusts are slow and long.

You look so pretty like this. Your back is arched, hands stretched outward taking all that he has to give you. Geto’s soaking in the moment. His heart feels like it might burst out of his chest. He finally has you and he’s taking advantage of every second. Your moans bounce off the walls echoing through the room. Your so loud taking his cock no wonder he could hear you through the walls fucking yourself. 

“This is what you needed isn’t it” he groans “You needed me, needed my cock. It’s okay I’m here now princess. All you have to worry about now is making a mess on my cock.”His thrust are filled with passion.   

His hands part your ass cheeks so he can get a view how how your cunt swallows his cock. 

“Look at how much this pussy loves me” he moans eyes low staring at where the two of you connect.       

He throws his head back groaning at the way you clench around him. 

“Fuck its so tight and warm” he can’t control himself. 

His picks up speed thrusting into you wildly chasing after an orgasm. 

“I need you so bad, Please fuck- please cum for me” he’s never known himself to lose control like this. 

His moans turn into whimpers as he continues fucking into you softly holding you. He can feel you’re close. Your face presses into the pillow muffling your moans. 

“Come on baby, Let me hear those pretty moans, don't hide them from me”his thrust are constant. 

He leans down to press kisses up your spine to your shoulder. His thrust are slow but they leave yo0u shaking on the brink of your orgasm. 

“Cum for me princess, I know how bad you need it” His voice is like silk whispering the words to you. 

His words send you over the edge. You completely lose yourself cumming around his cock. 

“That’s it, you're so good for me” he chuckles with a shaky voice. 

His thrust do not stop. He lets out a deep sigh before sitting up to fuck you faster. Your hand moves to push against his hips whining about how it’s too much. He chuckles and intertwines his fingers into yours. 

“Too much? We’re just getting started princess” a sly smirk grows across his face.

“I told you I was going to take my time. Let’s see how many times I can get you to cum tonight”

[reiyaus]

imagine construction worker! toji being in the crew who’s helping you build your dream home.

visiting every week to almost everyday because it was your only way to see him, the thought of just asking him out never came to mind. you weren’t exactly as slick as you thought, however.

it’s when you only approached him everytime you had a question did he realize you had a thing for him. not that he minded, though. he liked how flustered you’d get when he’d flex his biceps or when he’d grunt extra loud if he sensed you getting near.

the way you took so much time to prepare talking to him was cute too. how your throat bobbed up and down before clearing your voice; gently poking his arm (intentionally) before muttering his name.

toji would pretend not to hear at first, and ask you to repeat until you were practically yelling- only because he liked the sound of his name with your voice.

if honest, he didn’t actually know the answers to half of your questions. like how you didn’t know what the stuff you were asking him about meant anyways. for both of you, it was just an excuse to hear each other’s voices a little longer, and to see each other before your house gets complete.

it’s so obvious to his boss and co-workers that you’re absolutely smitted, like he is with you. it frustrates them when the building process fails to meet the deadline, having to work overtime because of a little work romance.

it doesn’t bother you though. there was nothing wrong with staying at your grandma’s a little longer. and he had no problem ditching his friends to have lunch with you.

yet, when the house does get finished, you felt a sense of loneliness, failing to remember that you can still contact each other outside of work. he becomes gloomy too, but watching you walk around and surveil the interior made him proud to have taken part in making your life better.

you’re about to thank all of them when he pulls you aside and brings out a little flip phone, almost like a bread crumb in his hands. his lockscreen was a low-quality photo (fitting to his ‘old-man’ persona) but 3 figures were you able to make out: two furry friends and one young boy in between.

it takes you some time to realize that the picture isn’t him as a young boy, but rather this child. you glance at him, his face practically sweating bullets and a shaky grin on his lips.

“this probably isn’t the best time to say this but, do you want to go on a date… someday? an actual one this time- i mean. i’ll introduce you to my son, and hopefully we can take things further now.”

[mggslover]

Through thin walls

In which Spencer finds solace in the sounds of his new neighbor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: perv!spence, mutual masturbation Word count: 1,7k A/n: i wanted to write a smut with a more sensual, almost poetic approach?? let me know what you think of it bc i truly don’t know how to feel about it… also tell me if you'd be interested in a part two where they would meet!

Spencer wasn’t one to find much solace in sleep.

Once, it had offered him comfort, a refuge where he could momentarily let go of his worries. But that was before his dreams started to haunt him. He was often praised for his eidetic memory, but what people failed to consider was that it also meant remembering your worst memories in precise, vivid detail. 

Of course Spencer was aware of how crucial sleep was, how sleep deprivation could wear a person down to the point of breaking them. But when sleep was the very thing that tore at him, what good was it? He did try to rest—clinging to the rare moments on the jet, where the hum of the engines and the presence of the team offered a shield against the nightmares that awaited him. But in the stillness of his own bed, the darkness pressed in, suffocating him until sleep became a burden he couldn’t bear.

When Spencer prepared for another attempt at sleep, he braced himself for the familiar routine: tossing and turning in tangled sheets, silently reciting The Parliament of Fowls in a desperate effort to reclaim the peace it once gave him—back when his mother would read it to him as a child. He’d pace to the kitchen for a warm glass of milk, anything to calm his restless mind, only for the alarm to blare the moment his head hit the pillow.

What he didn’t expect, though, was to hear a sound from the other side of the wall.

Soft at first, like it was testing the air—a breath, a hum, something faint but undeniably there. Spencer sat up against the headboard, his face turned toward the shared wall. The walls in his apartment were thin, but he hadn’t heard anything from next door in ages, not since his neighbor had moved out.

He waited patiently, listening, and then—there it was again. A faint gasp followed by a low moan. Spencer’s breath hitched as he made out that the sound came from a woman. He tensed, his mind immediately jumping to conclusions. Was she hurt? His pulse quickened. The moan was deeper this time, echoed by a soft, shaky exhale. 

He pressed his ear closer to the wall, straining to make out the sounds. A faint shuffle of movement reached him next, followed by a distant buzzing. Was someone else with her? His thoughts raced as he waited, not sure whether to jump to action. 

The sounds didn’t stop. In fact, they seemed to intensify, morphing into a rhythmic string of moans, sounding almost…sensual. 

Spencer sat frozen as the realization hit him. His stomach fluttered, a flush creeping up his neck and across his face as he struggled to grasp what was happening. He should turn away, should stop listening, but the sounds—her sounds—kept pulling him in. Her soft whimpers seemed to draw out something deep inside of him, an unfamiliar curiosity. 

Another moan sounded, higher pitched, followed by a low, drawn-out whine that made Spencer flinch. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop the flood of thoughts from rushing in, but it felt like his body was magnetized to the sound. There was nothing but that—the rasp of her breath, the unmistakable signs of pleasure seeping through the thin wall.

The sound of buzzing grew louder, and when a curse left the lips of the women next door, Spencer couldn’t help but let a deep groan escape from his throat. He quickly bit down on his lower lip, heart pounding in his chest. The sounds from the other side of the wall abruptly stopped, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. He held his breath, muscles tensed, every nerve on edge, waiting for what might come next. It felt like an eternity before the buzzing started again—this time softer, but still unmistakable. Spencer let out a long, shaky exhale, the weight in his chest lifting slightly.

Spencer was a firm believer of the mind having control over the body. He’s seen enough cases where people’s minds compelled them to commit horrific acts they wouldn’t have otherwise. In Spencer’s case he’d learned to ignore the nudges of his body, quickly pushing his desires aside as a mere biological function he shouldn’t linger on for too long. Maybe it was his lack of sleep, or the desperation for a change of routine—because this time around his body was getting the best of him. 

The tightness in his pants grew simultaneously with the pretty sounds next door. His hand clenched around the fabric of his sheets, but it didn’t stop the tension building inside of him. 

He tried to shift his focus back to something logical. Distracting himself by thinking back on his chemistry thesis on Dipole-Dipole forces, how simple the alignment of the polar molecules sounded, but how complex it actually is—how the bond isn’t as intense as with ions, but something that builds steadily over time, almost imperceptibly at first, until it becomes undeniable. 

As his mind went on thinking about the invisible, magnetic pull between the opposing charges, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities with the situation he was in. She, like a molecule with her own electric field, creating a captivating attraction, slowly drawing him in with every sweet sound that escaped her lips. He could only wonder what would happen the moment they would meet—if their charged particles aligned—how it could release something greater than either of them could anticipate.

He imagined the woman next door. He pictured her as a shadow first—a soft silhouette just beyond his reach, blurred by the apartment wall. But in his thoughts, the edges of her figure sharpened.

He wondered if she was touching herself, if her hands were trailing along her body in the same way he traced her in his mind. He wondered what her skin would feel like under his fingertips. Would it be soft, the kind that invited touch? Or would the gentle curve of her shoulders be warmer, more textured and defined? 

His hand moved without permission, fingers tracing his own jaw, his eyes fluttering close. His fingers brushed against his neck, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch her there, to feel the pulse beneath her skin. 

Another moan slipped through the wall, soft and pleading. Would she react the same way if I touched her? The thought sent a jolt of heat through him. Spencer’s hand twitched as he unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt, his hand gliding over his bare chest. 

Each breath, each noise from her, felt like a thread pulling him closer to the edge, closer to her. His body moved on his own accord. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, and he’s hit with the sensation of warmth and need. 

He wondered if she knew how beautiful she sounded. If she was even aware of how loud she was. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. Maybe she liked how much she affected him with her whimpers and gasps. 

He imagined the way her body would move, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the delicate arch of her back as she gave herself over to the sensation. He could almost feel it—like a phantom touch—her skin against his, the way she would shudder beneath him, lost in the same heat he was drowning in now.

His hand drifted lower, unable to stop. He pictured pressing her body into the sheets, hearing her moan against his ear as he would lean in and hide his face into the crook of her neck. He wondered whether she would surrender herself to the pleasure or try gaining more by wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer. Whether she would like him to take it slow, savoring every touch, or if she would want him to be rough, to make her feel an ecstasy she hasn’t experienced before. 

Another sharp gasp came from the other side of the wall. Spencer stifled a groan as his hand moved more urgently, guided by his growing pleasure. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus. Fully consumed by the thought of her—so close, yet still so out of reach. 

Spencer wasn’t sure where his sounds began and where hers ended. He was swallowed by the overwhelming sensation, his mind too hazy to make out the border between reality and his imagination. His grip on himself tightened, spurred on by her sounds that seemed to match his own rhythm. 

She had slipped so deeply into his mind that he could feel her, in every breath, in every shiver of his skin. Spencer felt it in his chest, the way his breath quickened, the way the pressure built. She had become more than just the sounds next door, more than a figment of his imagination. She had become a need. And in this moment, he had no choice but to follow where it led.

Her moans became more frequent. Spencer’s body responded instantly. His hand moved faster, drawn by the pulse of her release, feeling the way it thrummed through him as though they were one. 

He could almost see her—her legs writhing, her eyes closed, her lips parted in that delicate, breathless moan. His mind painted the picture so clearly, it felt as though she were right in front of him. 

Her release ignited his, a wave of heat rolled through him, pulling him under. His breath caught, his body shaking as he followed her, their climaxes crashing together—separate, yet so intimately tied.

As his breath slowed, Spencer lay still, his mind buzzing with the aftershocks of what had just happened. He could still hear her lingering moans in his mind, like a melody he couldn’t shake. His heartbeat, once frantic and wild, slowed to a steady rhythm. The air in the room felt lighter, less suffocating, the weight of longing finally lifted from his chest. 

The exhaustion that pressed down on him was different from the nights before. It wasn’t the weariness of a restless mind, of memories from the past gnawing at him. It was the deep, almost tender exhaustion that followed from his release. 

Tonight, there were no nightmares waiting at the edge of his consciousness. Just quiet. Just calm. Just her.

PART TWO