#but i never really stick to that very long

[firewasabeast]

I Never Really Had a Friend

A Buck-focused, bucktommy story. tags: Starting Over, Grief/Mourning, Getting Back Together, Ending Friendships, Bobby's death is mentioned, Eddie's toxic/abusive tendencies are briefly discussed, Bobby's suicidal thoughts are mentioned, Happy Ending. Rating: M. 5.4k. read below or on ao3.

Buck is sitting in the hospital, holding his nephew, thinking about the past few months of his life. The past year, really. The good, bad, and downright painful. He tries to remember the last time he was happy. Really happy.

He thinks it might be when he stumbled into his house, lips attached to Tommy’s, the two of them giggling like teenagers getting away with something.

Maybe, more precisely, it was the next morning. After he said it didn’t have to mean anything, and Tommy asked why not. For a brief moment, all the stars aligned, and everything felt right again.

Until, just as quickly, it all fell apart.

He blinks away tears, sticks his finger out for the baby to grab onto, and smiles.

Chimney’s talking to Maddie, getting her lunch order. She’s been craving an Italian sub for months, but wants it a very specific way, so Buck phases out of the conversation and focuses on his own never-ending train of thought.

Because if he really thinks about it, most of his happy memories from the past year include Tommy.

It sort of felt like the ground underneath him gave way the day Tommy left his apartment and, ever since then, he’s been trying to climb out of a gravelly pit that crumbles more every time he takes a step.

Something deep in his gut clenches when he thinks about Tommy for too long. He’s got ten unanswered messages from him, waiting for a response. Two each week since Bobby died.

Five missed phone calls too. The most recent was yesterday.

Consistent.

Buck wonders how long he’ll keep doing it. How long will he keep texting and calling before he gives it up? Before he realized Buck isn’t worth it.

He’s surprised Tommy has lasted this long, honestly.

It wasn’t that he had meant to ignore him. Tommy hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was just that Buck missed the first message, and the second one. Then he wasn’t by his phone for the first call.

And once he saw all that he’d missed, he started to write out an apology text.

Then he got distracted.

And now it felt like too much time had passed.

Time.

Buck wonders how much of that he’s got left. He feels like he’s lived a million lives already. Feels like he’s used up all of his luck. Next time… next time it’s him in that lab. Next time, he’s the one out of a third option. Next time, they’re carrying him out of the church and following behind his casket at the procession.

It makes him think of Bobby.

Bobby who, eight years ago, wouldn’t have cared to die in that lab. Who would have found nothing but peace inside of him when he realized he was infected. Wouldn’t have shed a tear.

He would have gone willingly, happily, maybe even purposefully.

The bonds he formed with everyone at the station never would have happened.

He never would have married Athena.

Never would have gotten all those extra years.

Wouldn’t have had people to miss him, to ache for him, every single moment of every single day if he’d given up back then.

He’s not sure how it all connects in his mind. It’d probably be a jumbled mess to anyone else. But to Buck, it’s clear as day.

He knows what he needs to do.

*****

Tommy’s hair is a curly mop of a mess when he opens the door. He’s half asleep, a blanket draped over his shoulders.

It’s the middle of the day, but Buck knows he just got done with a shift a couple of hours ago.

“Evan?” His head is slightly tilted to the side, face scrunched up in a sleepy confusion. “Dreamin’?”

Buck smiles, breathes out a laugh. “No, um, I- I needed to talk to you.”

Tommy moves out of the way, holding the door open for Buck to come inside.

“Sorry for not calling or texting you first,” he says as Tommy shuts the door behind him. “I just… it needed to be now.”

“It’s fine,” Tommy assures him, running his fingers through his hair. It does nothing but make his hair poof even higher. “Are you okay?”

Buck nods, a bit too enthusiastically to be believed. “Yeah, I- I’m good.”

“Mm.” Tommy tries to blink the sleep from his eyes. He points towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna fix some coffee. Try to wake up a little bit.”

Buck follows him to the kitchen, smiling as he listens to the sleepy patter of his feet. Tommy is a machine at work. Ready to jump up and fly at a moments notice. But, when he was home, he let his body rest. Let himself fall into a sleep so deep that, sometimes, Buck was sure the house could collapse around him and he’d never hear a thing.

Buck was actually surprised he’d heard the ringing of the doorbell… even if he did ring it twenty times in a row.

When it takes Tommy two tries to remember which cabinet his coffee is in, Buck nudges him out of the way. “Sit,” he says. “Let me. Least I can do after waking you.”

Tommy doesn’t argue. He sits at the barstool and waits, quietly. Buck doesn’t look back until the coffee has finished brewing. He half expects Tommy to be asleep, head tucked into the crook of his elbow.

But Tommy is watching him. Reading him. Studying him.

Buck looks away, pours Tommy a cup. “I probably should have called,” he mentions again.

“It’s really fine, Evan. I don’t go back to work for two days. Plenty of time to sleep.”

Buck finishes fixing his coffee, then slides it across the island. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. So, what’s up?”

“Just, take a few sips,” Buck replies, pushing the mug closer to Tommy. “Let yourself wake up a little bit.”

Tommy grins, lifting the mug and taking a sip. He sighs as it goes down.

Perfect.

“How was work?” Buck asks, keeping conversation light until Tommy is ready.

“Not bad. Not much downtime, but that seems to be the norm lately.”

“Yeah, it’s th- the same at our station too.”

Tommy takes another sip, then straightens his posture. “Okay, I’m awake now.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

A deep breath, a nod, and Buck begins. “I’ve been thinking, a lot, about a lot of things. My mind feels like a hamster on one of those wheels lately, just spinning, spinning, spinning, spi-” He waves a hand, stopping himself. “Anyway, um, I feel like my life is nothing like I want it to be. There’s a lot of things I thought I’d have by now, and there’s a lot of things I want, but I don’t say anything about it. I just shut my mouth and shut down and let things happen.” He squints at Tommy. “Am I making any sense?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. So, I- I’ve been wasting time. A lot of it, this last year. Well, maybe not the whole year, but most of it. And Bobby, he- he spent so long being unhappy, you know? Years of his life were spent in this- this limbo. And now he’s gone. I just… I keep thinking that in the end, all we have is time.” He’s rambling. He knows it. Tommy knows it. He reels himself in. “Tommy, I don’t want to keep wasting time, and I don’t want to die without telling you how I feel. I want to be with you, i- if that’s what you want. I want to try again. I want to do this right. I want to be honest. I miss you. I’ve been missing you for months now and I hate wondering if each time I see you will be the last time."

Tommy stares at Buck for a moment, then looks down at his cup. “Maybe one more sip.”

Okay. Now Buck was going to panic.

“I- I’m sorry,” he rushes out. “I’m doing it again. I’m being impulsive and I’m m- making it about me and I don’t-”

“No,” Tommy interrupts, his voice as calm and polite as ever, “it’s… here.” He pushes out the seat beside him, giving it a pat. “Will you sit down, please?” Buck comes around and sits, anxiously wiping his sweaty hands down his pants. “Evan, I’ve tried talking to you for over a month.”

“I know. I- I’m sorry for that too.”

“No, I’m not… Evan, you don’t need to be sorry. I get it, I understand. I just- part of me thought-” he sighs, searching for the right words. “I figured you didn’t want to talk to me. I kept thinking I was bothering you, but I had to do something. When I opened the door I was kinda figuring you were here to tell me to leave you alone. Things have veered in a direction I was not expecting.” He lays his hand out on the counter, palm up, ready for Buck to take.

So he does.

“You have a way of doing that, you know?” Tommy says, a smile playing on his lips.

“Freaking you out?” Buck offers.

“Surprising me,” Tommy responds. He gives Buck hand a squeeze. “Evan, I… are you sure?”

“About wanting to be with you?”

“Yes.”

“I think it’s the only thing in my life I’m one hundred percent sure of right now,” he answers honestly. “But I want you t- to be sure. I don’t want you to say yes just because you think you ha-”

He’s cut off as Tommy stands, places a hand on either side of his face, and presses their lips together.

For a second, Buck freezes. His hands curl into fists, then they relax, and he’s taking a deep breath, and grabbing onto Tommy’s shirt and the blanket he’s still got wrapped around him.

For a moment nothing else in the world exists. This, right here, a sturdy body with a gentle soul, is everything in the world.

And then Tommy pulls away.

“Sorry for the coffee breath,” he whispers between them, their foreheads pressed together.

Buck laughs.

A real, genuine laugh.

It feels scary.

It feels wrong.

It feels amazing.

“I don’t care,” he replies. “Just do it again.”

*****

Buck is standing in the middle of Eddie’s living room.

No. His living room.

At least for one more week.

It’s almost empty.

He wishes he’d never put all of his boxes out for recycling. He never thought he’d need them again, and so soon.

He feels as empty as the room looks. A hollow shell of a person.

He shouldn’t. He recognizes that. This is good, in the long run. It’s exactly what he’s wanted.

He’s not about to be homeless. He offered to go. Offered to give Eddie the place back. In a surprising turn of events, two weeks after getting back together, following a failed date night and a round of sex that never happened due to an accidental kick to the groin, Tommy had grunted out the words, “You should move in with me,” right as Buck placed an ice pack on his crotch.

They discussed it for the rest of the night.

Then had successful sex the next morning.

So Buck isn’t upset about leaving. Not really.

But it’s in this space, this room filled with memories and ghosts, that Buck decides he’s never really had a friend.

Because, yes, he’d offered the place back to Eddie. It’s why he decided to sublease it in the first place. But then Eddie bought a place in Texas, and the move seemed permanent, and Buck… Buck moved in.

So when Eddie decided they were coming back, the words stumbled out of Buck’s mouth without a thought. “That’s great! When do you need your place back by?”

And Eddie responded with a date.

He didn’t ask if Buck had anywhere to go.

He didn’t say he could find a new place of his own.

He didn’t even say thank you.

He responded with a date.

Buck didn’t think about it at the time. In the silence of this house though, a house that once again fills with echoes at the slightest sound, it’s all he can think about.

He decides, right then and there, to make a change.

Test the waters.

He becomes unavailable over the following weeks. He settles in with Tommy, and Eddie settles back into his old home. Then Eddie calls, invites Buck over on Friday.

Buck almost says yes, but something stops him.

Or, rather, he stops himself.

“Why, what’s up?” he says instead.

“Well, you know that woman I met at the building collapse?”

Buck does, vaguely. “Mhm.”

“She gave me her number and we made plans to go out. I figured you and Chris could hang here, catch up.”

Buck loves Chris. He really does. He’d do anything for the kid.

Which is why he pauses for nearly five seconds before replying, “Sorry, Tommy and I have plans. Maybe someone else can watch him for you. Gotta go.”

Two more offers to babysit comes up in less than two weeks time. Buck declines each one. He waits until Chris texts him himself, asks if he wants to hang out, play video games, eat junk food.

Buck and Tommy pick him up together, head back to their place, have a guys day.

Buck and Tommy have talked about it, the way Buck feels. The way the scale never quite evens out. He tells Tommy one night, “I know I can make things about me, I know I can be selfish, but I feel like I’m never able to talk about how I feel at all. Like, i- if I do, I need to feel bad about it… or that, maybe, next time, he’ll do more than get in my face. I don’t think that’s what friendship is supposed to be.”

“Evan,” Tommy had responded, pulling him in to lay on his chest, “you’re the least selfish person I know. Anyone who makes you feel otherwise… I’m sorry, but, they don’t know you at all.”

And that was the thing.

Eddie didn’t know him at all.

Because every time Buck had tried to open up about anything serious, Eddie slammed the door in his face.

"Want me to talk to him?" 

"No. Thanks, but no."

“Why don’t you talk to him about it?” Tommy suggested. “Tell him how you feel.”

Buck huffed out a laugh. “I like the way my nose looks now.”

*****

While he does reduce his time around Eddie to working hours only, he ends up spending more time with Ravi. As Hen takes over as captain, Eddie becomes a licensed paramedic. Buck and Ravi are almost always paired up at work, and they end up working really well together. Maybe it’s because Ravi spent years learning all of Buck’s little quirks, but he can usually figure out what Buck needs before Buck actually realizes he needs it.

This works both ways, and they find they’re a spectacularly efficient pair.

Things might’ve started out a little rough for them on the friendship front, but somehow they end up at the same bar, same time, same day, every week.

“Anyway,” Ravi says, sipping on his third drink of the night, “after Hen talked to her, the lady said she decided not to press charges. Which is insane in the first place, because how could she press charges on me for pulling her out of a burning building?”

“Sounds like she had an interesting way of showing her gratitude,” Buck replies with a shake of his head. “It’s always crazy to me how some people will actually get mad when we don’t let them die in a horrific way.”

“Right?!” Ravi sets down his glass, gives Buck a nod. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“How are you doing?” Ravi asks.

“Oh,” Buck waves him off. “I’m fine. How’s your family?”

“No, no.” Ravi wiggles a finger at him. “I just spent half an hour complaining about my life. The next half hour is yours.”

Buck contemplates his response. Opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again.

Then the words spill out like a dam breaking open.

He talks about Bobby, about feeling like the 118 is a shell of its former self. He talks about the fact he spends a lot of nights crying, especially when he has work the next day. He tells Ravi how Tommy does his best to console him, tries everything to make it better. But it’s not really something he’s able to fix.

Buck talks about how he feels like a friendship spanning the better part of eight years now feels like a lie. How he feels used, belittled, and like he gave and gave without ever getting anything back in return.

He talks about the good stuff too. How well he and Tommy are doing. How comfortable they are with each other. How he feels comfortable having flaws, because he knows Tommy loves him anyway. How he feels safe, even when they argue, because Tommy is the most gentle human being he knows.

He talks about Hen, and what a great job she’s doing as captain. How happy he is for her; how much she deserves it. That’s why he feels so bad about the fact that he hates coming into work. Hates being there. It feels wrong. It doesn’t bring him the joy it once did.

And Ravi… Ravi listens. He nods along, and interjects when necessary, and he asks questions. In the end, he may not be the best at giving advice, but he replies with, “Man, that sucks,” and Buck feels like a giant weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

Getting everything off of his chest with someone he works with, someone who he is beginning to consider a friend, feels like a fresh start.

He doesn’t cry the night before work.

Tommy holds him anyway.

He falls into a rhythm. Things are different, but they’re okay.

He has Tommy to talk to, and Ravi. He and Maddie make plans when they can. It usually ends with him spending the most time with his niece and nephew, but he can’t complain about that.

Hen becomes more comfortable as captain, Chimney and Eddie settle in as a duo, and they all still operate well as a unit.

Buck cooks, when he can. Maybe not everyone sits down together for meals anymore, but the majority of them do.

It’s good. They laugh, they talk, they compliment his cooking.

He begins to think he can do this. That maybe it just took more time than he expected to find a new normal after Bobby.

His weekly outings with Ravi become less about complaining and more about general talking and catching up on the little things.

He settles.

Until it all blows up in his face.

He and Ravi have been sent out to help with training new recruits for the day. It’s a normal day, everything is going well.

It hits five o’clock, time for everyone to leave, and Buck is in the middle of giving a pep talk when his phone rings.

Ravi takes over as he accepts the call.

It’s Hen. She heard over the radio that Tommy fell from a ladder while working ground ops. He’s at the hospital getting checked out, but he’s alert now.

There’s one particular word that sticks out to him.

Now.

Buck asks what she means, that he’s alert now?

Hen proceeds to tell him that when he was first brought in this morning, he wasn’t conscious. But now he’s awake and answering questions. Hen, Chim, and Eddie are already at the hospital, waiting for more updates.

There’s a whirring noise happening. Buck feels like he’s stuck in a fun house, surrounded by mirrors, all of his reflections laughing at him.

“You heard this o- over the radio?”

Hen hesitates. “Yes, but Buck-”

“So you’ve known since this morning?”

“Buck, I didn’t want you to think the worst without us knowing first. It’s-”

“I’m on my way.”

Ravi drives him to the hospital.

Buck tries his best to bite his tongue, but as soon as he sees Hen he’s livid again, and he lets it be known.

“You have no right to decide what I can or can’t handle. He’s my partner, and I should have been here with him eight hours ago.”

“Buck, I didn’t-”

“How would you feel if it were Karen?” Buck interrupts. “Or one of your kids?”

“Hey, chill, Man,” Eddie says, sticking his hand inches from Buck’s chest. “She didn’t want you freaking out for nothing, which is exactly what you’re doing.”

Buck’s pretty sure he’s never felt the level of rage he feels in this moment.

He takes a breath, wonders if the steam is actually visible as it escapes through his ears.

“You get your hand the hell away from me, Diaz,” he warns and, to his credit, Eddie takes a couple of steps back. Buck focuses back on Hen. “I’m gonna go be with my boyfriend, like I should have been since this morning. You all can go.”

Before Buck has a chance to walk away, Chimney speaks up. “You need us to get anything for you?”

He sounds embarrassed. Buck hopes he is.

“I can get whatever he needs,” Ravi replies. Buck feels eternally grateful for him. “Go see Tommy,” he says as the others filter out. “Text me whatever you need. I’ll be here.”

Buck can’t help himself. He pulls Ravi in for a hug so tight it knocks the air out of him.

“I’ll see what Tommy needs too,” he says as Ravi returns the hug. “You can come right to the room after.”

“Okay.” Ravi gives him a pat on the back. “Now go see your guy.”

In the end, it’s a hairline fracture in his leg, a sprained wrist, and a minor concussion. Nothing too serious. The only thing Buck and Tommy end up needing from Ravi is a ride home, so he joins them in Tommy’s hospital room and they keep each other company until Tommy is released.

Once Buck gets Tommy into bed, he sits beside him. He props himself up with a couple of pillows, his laptop resting on his thighs. He keeps a hand in Tommy’s hair, running his fingers through his curls.

With his free hand, he types, scrolls, and does research until the sun starts to rise.

He takes the next two weeks off.

Spends it studying for the captain’s promotional test.

*****

He keeps it a secret for as long as he can.

He tells Tommy, who spends all of his recovery time helping Buck study and research and prepare in any and every way possible.

He lets it slip to Ravi on accident, who promises not to say a word.

He actually keeps his promise too.

It’s refreshing.

He manages to take the exam without anyone else finding out. Passes with flying colors. He, Tommy, and Ravi go out for celebratory drinks.

But there’s more to it than the written test.

There’s tactical exercises, role-play scenarios, multiple interviews that include evaluators from outside the department. Even an interview with the department fire chief.

He gets scheduled for role-play scenarios and his first interview before Hen calls him into the office.

“Is this because of what happened with Tommy?” she asks.

He could keep it simple. Say yes.

But that wouldn’t be the entire truth.

“I started looking into it after Tommy was hurt,” he answers instead. “But I’ve been thinking about it since… since Bobby.”

“You’d be put at a different house, Buck,” she reminds him. “We’ve got B and C shift already covered.”

Buck nods. “I know. I- I think that’s part of why I want to do it.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, Hen, you- you’re a great captain. You were meant for this job. If it can’t be Bobby, you’re the only other logical option. But I… I’m not happy here anymore. I don’t think I have been for a long time and I think I- I need a fresh start.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then she smiles softly at him. “If you need help,” she says, “pointers, tips, anything, you can ask me. I just went through the process a few months ago, Buck, I’m sure it hasn’t changed much in that time.”

He accepts the help, but they don’t have much more time to talk before they get a call.

He’s not sure how Chimney finds out, or who tells Eddie, but Eddie never says anything about him going for captain.

Chimney does. Chomping his gum, asking Buck what he’s thinking by leaving their family.

He means well, so Buck doesn’t tell him it stopped feeling like a family a long time ago.

He makes it to the final part of the process. Remembers Hen’s advice. Answers the questions the way he thinks Bobby would.

He passes.

He feels his body relax for the first time in weeks.

“Congratulations, Captain Buckley,” Chief Simpson says as he shakes his hand. “I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

*****

He swears he sees God when he comes on Tommy’s cock that night. He can’t help it when Tommy has traded out his usual pet names for “Captain” and “Sir” and “Boss.” Keeps asking him for advice, whispering in his ear, “Am I doing this right, Captain Buckley?”

Chief Simpson calls a week later. It’s sooner than Buck expects.

There’s a captain retiring at Station 13 in six weeks. Buck could start now, train under him, take over as captain of B-shift once those six weeks are up.

Buck accepts without hesitation.

Three days later, they throw him a party at the 118. Tommy comes, Chris comes, Maddie brings the kids, Athena makes an appearance between calls.

When he walks out at the end of his shift, he doesn’t look back.

He starts at Station 13 two days later.

Captain Fredericks isn’t a bad man. He’s a good captain, and treats his team with respect, but there’s little camaraderie between them. When they aren’t on a call, they’re all doing their own thing. The station is quiet most of the time. And when Buck tries to chat with the rest of the team, he’s often met with what he can only describe as “polite resistance.”

Each week, Fredericks takes an extra step back and gives Buck a little more to do. By the end of the six weeks, Fredericks has taken on a mostly silent role in their partnership.

He feels confident as he starts his first week on his own.

It lasts a total of one hour and thirty-two minutes.

Jacobson, who wasn’t an issue for the entire six weeks, manages to undermine Buck multiple times on a single call.

The rest of the day doesn’t go much better.

He overhears Jacobson making jokes about him, and mocking his stutter.

When he makes a meal for everyone that evening, they grab a plate, scoop their food, and go into their own corners to sit and stare at their phones while they eat.

On their last call, instead of having Jacobson rappel down to get a hiker that fell thirty feet off the side of a cliff, he just does it himself. He ends up with a banged up knee, and multiple scratches that bleed for longer than he’d like to admit.

Tommy draws him a bath when he gets home. Puts medicine on the scratches. Rubs his feet and legs. Holds Buck as he cries himself to sleep. The next morning, when they wake up all tangled together, Tommy tells him about Bobby and Sal. It’s a story Buck has heard before, but it helped to hear it again. Especially now.

During his next shift, when he hears Jacobson mutter “weasel” under his breath after Buck gives him an order, Buck stands tall, looks him dead in the eyes, and tells him to repeat what he just said.

Jacobson does.

Buck asks if they have a problem.

Jacobson reminds him that he’s forty years old, and Buck hasn’t even made it to thirty-five yet. How the hell is he supposed to respect him?

“Respect is earned,” Buck tells him. “You don’t know me enough to respect me, I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m your captain now so, while you may not respect me, you do have to respect my authority. If you can’t do that, I’d suggest transferring to another station before you lose your job.”

That seems to quiet him for the rest of the day.

Jacobson puts in a transfer request three days later.

Four days after that, another transfer request hits his desk.

But this one is someone asking to transfer to his station.

Ravi Panikkar.

With Jacobson gone, and Ravi filling his spot, Buck starts to feel settled again.

The rest of his team are good people.

There’s Abarca, who is young and full of both spunk and anxiety. She’s nineteen years old and Buck is pretty sure she’s been on her own for longer than she could drive.

Smith and Smith, not related, are both paramedics. Barry Smith, who goes by Smith, has been at 13 for twenty years. Victor Smith, who also goes by Smith, changed careers two years ago. Went from working as a manager in a grocery store to graduating top of his class and getting his choice of station.

Buck thought having two Smith’s would be confusing, but they guaranteed him that they would know who he was talking to as soon as he called for them.

They haven’t been wrong yet.

And then there’s Carmen, who judges everyone, and Buck loves her for it. Her facial expressions alone can shut up even the most annoying humans. It also helps that her wife is a baker, and she gives Carmen anything she has left over to bring to the station.

One day Carmen’s wife comes in herself, and Buck introduces himself to Shiela. He asks her how she makes her eclairs? He’s been trying to get that right for a long time now and the texture always feels off.

This becomes a thirty minute conversation that ends in Shiela inviting Buck and Tommy over for dinner and a dessert class.

Tommy and Carmen have a great time watching and being taste testers.

They make it a regular thing.

Buck invites the team over for a barbecue after a couple of months. He invites the 118 too. It’s nice having everyone together. They have a good time.

That night, when he and Tommy are in bed, Tommy is peppering kisses down his chest. “You know,” he says, nibbling at Buck’s skin before soothing the spot with his tongue, “I see the way your team looks at you. They look up to you already.”

“I don’t, mmm, I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Tommy insists, kissing him just above his belly button. “I’m so proud of you.”

And if tears leak from his eyes as Tommy takes him in his mouth, well, they’re happy tears now.

Buck keeps cooking dinners every shift. While Ravi has taken a seat beside him from the start, he calls attention to the others when they start to walk away with their plates.

“Everyone, I- I’d like for us to all sit at the table today,” he says, clearing his throat when they all give him a confused look. “Actually, I- I’d like for us to, um, to sit at the table every day, for dinner. My old captain, he- he used to always have family dinners for us. We sit together, eat together, talk about stuff. I- I want us to do that too.”

There’s a few more seconds of stares, then slowly they start to make their way to the table.

“Family dinners?” Abarca questions.

“Family dinners,” Buck confirms.

She shrugs her shoulders. “That sounds cool.”

The others nod, take their seats, and begin to eat.

It’s here, in this moment, with these people, that Buck realizes Bobby was right.

He is going to be okay.

And he found the people who need him.

[l4ndoflove]

ln4 and 72 please 🙏

ocean eyes

feat. lando norris

lyrics there are two different types of "ocean eyes": magui's, icy perfection, and... lando's

maddie i really can't write a happy one-shot for my life :|

1405 words

It started stupidly enough, like most things did when it came to Lando.

You were sprawled out on the floor of his apartment, chest rising unevenly after he’d made you laugh for an hour straight, the movie you’d put on earlier only adding to your chaos as it kept playing in the background, long forgotten.

Everything—from the sound of his high-pitched chuckles to the smell of cheap takeout spring rolls—felt so familiar it was almost like being sixteen again: just the two of you, some junk food, and a bad rom-com you never actually watched, too busy mocking the corny lines to care about the plot.

Except now, it wasn’t just the two of you.

“Ugh.”

Magui’s groan echoed through the room like a cruelly timed reminder of her presence, making your head snap up from the carpet.

She was curled up on the couch, golden locks framing her face in perfect waves even as she tossed and turned restlessly, clearly struggling to find a decent angle for the selfie you figured she was trying to take.

You didn’t say anything, leaving Lando the honor of being the considerate boyfriend he always was.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Right on cue.

Your best friend jumped up from his spot beside you, resting his chin on the cushion where the blonde lay while staring at her with the same questioning gaze of a lost puppy.

“It’s just… why is the lighting here so bad? I mean, look at my eyes—they’re not supposed to be gray!”

The Brit squinted at the phone his girlfriend had shoved in his face, tilting his head to the side as he carefully inspected her reflection on camera.

Then, he entered the frame.

“Damn, look at this beauty,” he smirked, winking at himself through the screen.

Magui scoffed and pushed him away. “You’re not helping.”

“And you’re mad that my eyes look better than yours.”

You almost expected him to stick his tongue out at her like a toddler—so of course he did. Having known Lando for almost all your life had taught you quite a few things about him (some you weren’t very proud of).

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re a sore loser.”

“You’re blind.”

“You’re blind.”

God, it really felt like you were third wheeling—scratch that, babysitting two children who constantly bickered over the most random things. It was entertaining, sure, but draining in the long run.

“You’re neutral. Sort this out.”

You didn’t realize they weren’t speaking to each other anymore until you felt both their gazes fixed on you, your brows furrowing in confusion at the sudden request.

“I–what?”

“You’re neutral,” Magui repeated, slower this time, like you were a little slow yourself for not understanding something so simple. “So you get to decide whose eyes are better.”

Your heart stuttered, almost as if it knew something you didn’t and was trying to warn you.

“Neutral? She’s literally my best friend!”

You silently thanked Lando for pointing it out, though something in that sentence grated on your ears like chalk on a blackboard—loud and out of place.

“Exactly,” the blonde nodded, her voice sugary sweet, “which means you won’t have any… effect on her since you’re just best friends, right?”

Every single word that left her mouth was calculated, aimed straight toward—what? You weren’t sure yourself, and that scared you more than anything else.

“Yeah, makes sense.”

Okay, that might actually be worse.

You opened your mouth to try and talk some sense into both of them, but Magui beat you to it.

She leaned down so that you were at eye level, elbows propped on her knees as she held her face between her hands, waiting.

Waiting for what, you asked yourself, your approval?

Not that she needed it: her eyes were strikingly beautiful, two captivating gemstones that reflected even the faintest specks of light, no matter how “bad” it was. The kind only princesses in fairy tales and models on magazine covers had, and that everyone fell in love with at first sight.

Including Lando.

Looking at her now, you didn’t find it hard to understand why.

“They’re… really pretty.”

You weren’t lying, and judging by the unimpressed expression on her face, Magui knew it. Who would’ve ever dared to say otherwise, after all?

“Alright, alright, my turn,” the Brit waved her off, already scooting closer to where you were sitting.

Too close. Definitely closer than he needed to be, anyway.

Classic Lando—getting in your personal space since when you were younger just to annoy you. Poking your cheeks when you were upset to earn a smile from you or making weird faces that would always make you laugh even after the worst arguments.

Your logic said you should’ve been used to him acting this way—but that didn’t seem to stand a chance against the storm raging in your chest.

“Get out of my face, Norris.”

Please, you wanted to add, but that first sentence already sounded more desperate than you intended it to.

“What, you can’t handle my handsome face?”

No, you couldn’t.

You couldn’t handle his stupid face being so close to yours, your noses almost touching, breaths mingling together.

You couldn’t handle knowing by heart every little detail of it, from the moles scattered across his cheeks and jawline to the shape of his lips—which you should’ve never looked at in the first place.

But most of all, you couldn’t handle his eyes.

Even after you’d grown up mirroring yourself in them, watching you both age and change, they still managed to mesmerize you every time.

Maybe it was how those unfairly long lashes grazed his cheekbones whenever he blinked, or the deep blue edges that faded into a green so light anyone could miss it if they didn’t pay enough attention. You couldn’t really tell.

They were a different kind of pretty from Magui’s, though—two icy lakes against the warm sea of his gaze, an ocean you’d learned how to swim in long before, but that was now pulling you under its familiar waves.

And you let it, hypnotized by the way his irises didn’t reflect light like hers: they captured and shattered it into a thousand bright gold flecks that adorned his pupils like the petals of a sunflower.

You loved them.

You loved... him.

The realization hit you so violently that it nearly knocked all the air out of your lungs, leaving you more breathless than you already were.

You loved Lando Norris.

Your best friend.

Magui’s boyfriend.

Your mind was screaming so loud you were afraid the other two could hear you through the charged silence that had fallen over the room.

It was unbearable.

You had to say something. Anything–

“Your eyes have a little green in them.”

You didn’t recognize your voice when you spoke—because you didn’t.

“Fucking movie,” you muttered, grateful you finally had something else to focus on. “Scared the shit out of me.”

That was the safest option, playing it off with humor. Like you always did. Like Lando had taught you: take the hit and cover it up with a smile.

You scrambled to your feet as if the carpet had burned you, dusting off invisible pieces of lint only you could see, hoping that the feeling of the boy’s stare on your skin would magically go away as well.

“Hey–where are you going? You didn’t even tell us who won!”

The excuse you were about to give him immediately died on your lips at the sight you caught when you looked up from your feet.

It played out in front of you in slow motion, just like one of those dramatic scenes you used to make fun of with Lando all the time: Magui reached out for him from the couch, cupped his jaw with her fingers and made their lips collide into a kiss.

And that’s when you knew she knew.

Because she wasn’t showing affection to her boyfriend—she was staking a claim on what was hers after seeing how much you wanted it, too.

When she pulled away, slow and deliberate, her cold eyes pierced right through yours.

“So?” she cooed, honey dripping from her voice. “Who won?”

You held her gaze. Swallowed your pride and the tears already clouding your eyes. Then you smiled, bitter.

“You. Congratulations.”

This wasn’t about your silly competition anymore.

It never had been.

© 2025 l4ndoflove. all rights reserved.

[hanimanny]

“i only know that i feel tired, antiqued; i feel as though i’ve been awake for a long long time”

HOMESICK

synopsis: when the exhaustion of loving finally takes you.

tags: xavier x non!mc, ANGST!!! hurt/ comfort(?)

word count: 4.4k

likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

authors note: xavier’s version of this. let me know if you want versions of the other Lis. also please give me some ideas!!! divider by: @fairytopea

ACT I: VIGIL

Laughter has never been so suffocating.

You watch, not from a distance, but next to MC.

You think it's worse to be this close and to hear everything you're hearing now. In all the years of trials and tribulations of knowing Xavier, have you ever heard him laugh so brightly, smile so widely, or love so loudly?

The quiet, ever aloof prince of Philos—the man you followed, crossing stars, passing meteors, abandoning the place you once called home—beams brighter than his evil.

You think about all the things that built up to this moment.

To you, he was the stars: bright and all-encompassing. His silence—always silent—ever consuming, as you trailed in the shadow he left behind. Throughout the years of companionship and camaraderie, you followed blindly, as you always do, even when you knew what following him meant: an ill-fated destiny you could never rewrite.

You knew MC once before—the same woman who took the world by storm, a hurricane in his life that devoured him whole, leaving nothing for you behind.

Just like the MC you once knew, this MC is just as captivating.

The universe is playing a sick joke. He is your longest companion, the very last of your kind—the last light of your planet, your world, your culture. You left it all behind because, to you, loving him meant more than the comfort of your people and the safety of your planet. Loving him was worth leaving everything behind.

Ironically enough, he thought the same thing.

And despite it all—the friendship, the companionship, the camaraderie—you’re not even a placeholder for the love he holds dear. Nothing but white noise that followed him around, that clung to him at every turn.

A persistent, pathetic, piteous echo.

You are so close, and yet, so far.

Pulled in by the gravity of his very being. You think—thought—that all this time, just being beside him would be enough to soothe the dull ache of your heart, the perpetual pain that roamed your bones, and the exhaustion that swallowed you whole.

Like a dreamer, you think of the ways he could love you in the same capacity he loves her. That if you show up enough times, reach out and fill the silence he leaves behind; that the days of dedicated devotion, the sacrifices made along the way, would surmise to something worthy of being loved.

Worthy of being seen.

You’re left stranded in his orbit, gravity pulling harder the more you think you’ve got a handle on your thoughts. The pain, the agony, the suffering. Thinking that sticking by his side was all you ever needed, that you can’t be greedy—because having him was enough, and having him be yours was pure insanity.

You hear the laughter erupt once again, likely from a silly joke MC made. You pull yourself out from whatever hole you've dug, pull your lips into a smile the best you can, laughing along. It's hearty and very becoming of your character, you think, since MC wraps a secure arm around yours and squeezes with affection.

You allow her, of course—straining your cheeks until they burn, letting out a long-drawn sigh that fills the room.

Despite what others may think, as you converse along luridly, as if the volume of your voice could hide the heavy heart you bear, you've never been so quiet.

…

ACT II: DREAM

You once thought that the convenience of being neighbours was a good thing.

Next door to Xavier—close to him, but never next to him.

Walking to the Hunters Association together, coming home together, eating together. Just being together.

But you could tell Xavier wasn’t ever there—not really.

Despite being with him for so long, his mind was usually elsewhere. Sometimes in dreamland, but mostly—actually, always—drifting to her.

At some point, in between the solo bickering and one-woman conversations, you, too, found yourself wandering.

Like your mind sanctioned itself in your own self-made isolation.

Quieter. Smaller. Dimmer.

You stop talking as vividly—maintaining just enough energy to keep up appearances. Your voice, so used to fading into the background, remained where it was so oftentimes pushed towards—away from everything. Everyone.

You stop tagging along in the mornings, early days, and late nights, save for the obligatory lunch with your co-workers.

You stop leaving your apartment, taking refuge in a bed you’ve grooved your body into, like a coffin awaiting your arrival. An apartment you’ve grown used to, replicating the only home you knew.

And you’re just so tired. Tired of it all. Exhaustion clings to you like chasing breath. Sleep evades you like the plague.

It was your choice to cling to hope—to leave your home and to follow, naively, in hopes that one day, he would look at you the same way you look at him. To experience his love: the soft edges, the warmth, the gentleness. To think quiet, everlasting devotion would get you anywhere—devotion that controlled you, consumed you. Devotion that you thought would be enough, as silly as it sounds, to at least hold a candle next to the sun.

Devotion that instead puts you in the hands of despair.

You’re stupid to still hope, to yearn for a love that was never yours to have. To attempt to go against fate—against an entire lifetime of love.

So really, it was your burden to bear—and bear it alone.

And the funniest thing of it all? Xavier never once visited you. Checked on you. Sought you out. Even the tenant right below you, Charlie, visited, offering warm welcomes of fresh bread and a simple smile.

As you lie on your couch, enveloping yourself in the embrace of your own naivety, forced by Jenna to take a day off, you listen to the familiar silence.

Which is soon broken by the snubbed sound of light that snuffs the room.

It’s the first time in weeks—29 days, 21 hours, 2 minutes—Xavier has stepped foot in your apartment.

You don’t make a move to look at him or say anything like you normally do.

You both reside in the deafening silence. One by choice, one succumbed.

For the first time, Xavier breaks the silence: “You weren’t at work today.”

You could laugh, scream, cry, or all of the above, but you don’t.

Quietness reaps your soul.

Xavier continues. “MC was worried about you.”

A lifetime's worth of companionship, and he wasn’t even here to seek you out.

You truly are stupid.

Xavier isn’t used to the silence—not this kind. Despite being so quiet all the time, this silence was completely foreign. It was heavy and uninviting, almost suffocating.

There’s a moment of unrelenting anticipation as he waits to see you respond.

When you don’t, he steps forward. One step, then two—then he’s at the foot of the couch, peering down at you like a deity summoned—unconsciously shining with that light of his.

Steel blue eyes bore into you, trying to read you.

But you’re too fractured to be read. At least not clearly.

“Are you okay?”

‘Am I okay?’ You want to laugh at the thought, to make fun of the words asked.

Were you ever okay?

You miss it all—your family, your friends, your people, your home.

To think, once there was a time you chose to abandon it all in the name of love—where you thought complacency was where you belonged: beside a man you knew never loved you, maybe never even liked you.

Now you can only sneer at the fact, as you reminisce about a place far and forgotten, only finding a place deep within your memory.

Xavier prompts a different question. “Have you been sleeping?”

And for the first time in a while, you finally speak.

“I’ve been dreaming a lot.”

First, about you. About us. About what could have been. About what never was.

“What about?” His voice holds something softer than you ever thought possible from him. Something reserved only for her, never for you.

It almost makes you break. To confess everything. To finally open up your heart and pour all your pain out. To free yourself from self-made shackles and unwanted thoughts. To hear the very softness you crave—to be held, caressed, embraced.

But you don’t. Because even with that unreadable look in his eye—the same eyes you’ve longed for all this time—you know what they hold.

Obligation

“Home,” you say simply.

For the first time in a while, Xavier looks at you—really looks at you. He’s known you all this time, the image of you ingrained in his brain like second nature. He knows you—you’re his oldest friend, most trusted companion. He's seen all sides of you, but the person he’s looking at looks nothing like the you he remembers.

He looks at you and can’t even recognise you. Cruelly, for a moment, he even wonders if it’s really you.

“I don’t see any changes.” Xavier takes a quick glance around; everything remains stagnant, as it always has.

You don’t correct him—not this time. You hum a noise between affirmation and acknowledgement and drift off to a place once forgotten.

Silence consumes the soul once again, with Xavier wondering when he had become so complacent with it all: with your constant presence, voice to fill the spaces he’s left behind, unrelenting energy, and unwavering spirit.

“You’re right. Nothing has changed.”

…

ACT III: DRIFT

Xavier hasn’t visited since.

Not that you didn’t expect it.

You still see him at work, at lunch with MC, and on the rarest occasion, you bump into him in the hallway of your apartment complex—like strangers.

You do your best to find a new rhythm in this life, as your absence becomes more common and your presence goes with the echo of your voice. You’re seen less and less.

Maybe you were never seen at all—not truly.

You find that it’s easier to deal with heartache in the same way Xavier deals with everything: in silence.

Silence, although not foreign, not even new to you, seeks you out and sticks to you like a foreboding message.

You’ve spent years so bright, a will so strong it held on tight enough to kill you. Your loudness brought you here, away from Philos, so as the bits of your spirit whittle away along with your soul, silence is left to fill in the gaps of an empty shell.

You learn to live without Xavier in your life—as though he isn’t the last thing you have of your home, of the love you once felt, the comfort, the security. You learn to live without Xavier and learn to nurse a pain that has become something of a lover.

You had to learn to live because the world kept spinning—even when you’re lost in a place, unfamiliarly familiar, and can do nothing but live on.

But are you even living at this point? Even a dead girl walking has rights to a life—to living.

You’re leaving for another mission. In spite of Jenna’s protests, you’d rather fight to exhaustion—to blend the pain in your chest with the ache of muscles.

Your face reflects your volition. Eyes pulled down by the weight of your burden, face pale like a dying star. Despite trying, your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, your laughter isn’t as bright, and your voice isn’t as loud.

You wait for Jenna’s reluctant orders. She’ll be damned if she lets you out on another solo mission—because despite your incredible hunting rates, you too are human.

A voice so familiar pulls your attention, and you look up to see Xavier standing before you—ice blonde hair and steel blue eyes in tow.

How long has he been standing there?

“Jenna assigned me as your partner for the mission.” Your face shows no expression—and not for lack of trying.

You laugh inwardly at the thought.

You're too much like him, in a sense. Loving hard enough to abandon your home, to follow blindly with fate—in spite of your own shortcomings. To silently love, quietly devote, and slowly disappear.

You purse your lips and let out a sigh too heavy for someone like you.

Xavier is almost taken by surprise.

“Let's go.” Xavier can hear it in your tone, and see it in your voice. How truly tired you really are—incomparable to his ever-waking sleepiness.

Your exhaustion runs you dry.

Again, silence befalls the two of you—an unwelcome rhythm that has found a place in the cracks of your relationship.

For the first time, Xavier trails behind you. Watching you. Observing you. And if he didn’t see your face or know your frame, he’d think the person walking in front of him was nothing but a stranger.

This time, Xavier walks in your shadow.

…

ACT IV: SILENCE

You think you’re fading.

The remnants of who you once were have been whittled down to the bone. You’re broken—maybe you always have been. Maybe this was who you were always supposed to be.

You’re so tired, not just emotionally but physically too.

The never-ending stream of wanders is starting to take a toll, even on professionals such as you and Xavier.

Your sword is dull, chipped at the edges, and your wounds scatter across your frame, staining your skin in a dirty shade of red.

Even the almighty knight is struggling to keep up with the demand.

So, as you find refuge in a murky cave, to recuperate the best you can, you find that the full-body ache starts to return.

You lean against a well-placed boulder, breath shallow and your grip loose, as your eyes haze over the fire in front of you.

You feel the warmth reach out for you—gently, creeping through the shell of yourself.

It’s quiet, save for the crackle of the flame.

You feel peaceful for once—the hunt muddling your thoughts so much that you can’t even think straight. Or maybe it’s the exhaustion of not sleeping.

Despite it all, you feel a strange sense of tranquillity. One with the throb in your chest that makes it hard to breathe, but is easier to deal with now that everything aches.

It’s peaceful, you think, as you fade into whatever hole you’ve dug all those years ago. Your mind is muddled, and your soul flickers with the last bits of who you were.

Suddenly, you’re pulled back out—again by the very men who left you there, like a nostalgic toy forgotten all these years.

Your eyes pull away from the fire.

You soak in his gaze. It holds none of the same love you see him give out so freely to MC. It’s hard and stern—years of knighthood sewn into his features. He looks at you like he doesn’t know you at all.

Calloused hand gripping your shoulder—it’s firm enough to shift your attention, your body facing him.

You look at him and try to find the line between succour and obligation. Try to find one thing that says you mattered—even just for a second.

You were foolish to believe that you could remain just his friend, companion, comrade. You were stupid, dumb, idiotic.

You were completely blind to it all—to think that his love could have relieved something burning in you. Something insatiable. Something permanent.

“You’re drifting.” Xavier’s voice cuts through your messy thoughts and heavy heart.

You’ve been drifting.

You don’t make an attempt to joke like you used to—not even a weak smile. You sit back and stare at him like you don’t even know him.

“You’ve been doing that more often.” You take a moment to digest what he says—something he’s noticed entirely on his own, not by MC’s worrywart love.

Once upon a time, you would’ve thought it was normal for him to notice these types of things—the dullness of a close second. But now, you’re surprised. Shocked, even. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Where are you going?” he prompts, and his voice holds something so intrinsic to the soul. Something you can’t find here. Something like home.

You’re fading, like the light of his evol—dimmer, as you’re pulled into the gravity of your own mind.

You’d like to tell him—if not as a lover, then a friend:

I’m lost. I’m gone. I’m tired. I’m sad. I’m furious. I’m not myself. Not with what’s left of who I am.

I am not home.

You don’t. Despite something inside you telling you you must. That it’s not worth dying on this hill.

You think: How much deeper of a hole can you dig before you vanish? Before you're gone? Forgotten? Never having existed in the first place.

Until you’re not a person, but a memory.

You don’t tell him anything, because that’s not the kind of relationship you have—not anymore.

In the midst of the silence, your voice finally breaks through.

Quiet. Cracked. Almost gone.

“I’m thinking of going home.” There’s finality in your tone. Weak as your voice may be, Xavier hasn’t heard such certainty from you in months.

His eyes knit in confusion, contort in concern.

Maybe you’re just tired. But there’s something to your expression—an unspeakable hollowness that wasn’t there before. Your eyes haze over with something distant.

A body without a soul.

Like he always does, he remains silent. Never reaching out. He’s seen you get through worse, come back stronger. He’s seen everything. He knows you.

Or maybe... he knew you.

All the years of companionship will amount to something. It has to. He’s known you for so long. You stuck by his side even through death. You truly were the one stable thing in his life. Never needing to chase—always there, beside him. With him.

It was always you and him—even as he fights his way through the forgotten memories of MC, you remain.

Though, something claws at him, as his hand gently travels down your arm. To reach. To ask what you meant. To wonder if you meant the apartment beside his, where it reflected the culture of Philos, somehow capturing the stars in every object you bought.

He wants to ask if home is with him.

But he doesn’t.

Silence is there to greet him again—him only, he thinks, because you seem so used to it now.

Unfamiliar territory.

His eyes travel to his hand on yours, afraid to let go for some reason. As if letting go meant never seeing you again.

Your head is slumped motionless against his shoulder. His eyes peer onto your back—and then he sees it.

The blood stains the rock behind you. Your back is adorned with gashes that soak your uniform.

“Y/N,” he calls out, like it’s the only thing he knows. Because it’s the only thing he can do.

He hears no response. Not even a whisper of a shallow breath.

It’s not quiet. Not even small.

It’s silent.

Then he feels it. The way your eyes droop down to the fire. The limpness of your hand on his. The paleness. The coldness.

The death.

His spare hand reaches out.

He shakes you. “Don’t close your eyes.”

But you don’t abide—swaying with the motion of his force.

You could do anything. Do everything. Move mountains. Slay beasts. You were strong. Firm. Confident. He knew you could get through anything.

“Come on, just open your eyes. Can’t you do that?”

“One breath. That’s all I need.”

“Hold me tight, Y/N.”

Xavier cradles your gaunt body as he pulls your head taut to his shoulder. He rocks you like a sleeping child, holding you tight—tighter than he ever has before.

He’s shaking—and not from the cold.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but suddenly, the silence breaks.

And he hears everything. Sees everything. Feels everything.

And he cries.

Because that’s all he can do.

…

ACT V: LINGER

Xavier likes to think that he notices your absence.

The way people step over the shells of your name, the routes taken to avoid the common spaces you once occupied in the living. The untouched work desk, memorialised by those who remembered her. The vacancy next door — the home she built away from home — now barren, her things sold, thrown away, or forgotten.

MC, who was so loud with her affection, mourned just as passionately. Her heart sewn onto her sleeve as she cried the loss of a friend. Flowers tended on the desk of a fallen soldier, and distance built from the apartment upstairs.

But really, he doesn’t.

The way you’ve faded so naturally out of his life — never moving, never reaching. The walk to and from home is the same. His apartment is the same. His life remains the same. Like you were never there. Like the image of your smile wasn’t something that pushed him through distant times.

Like you never meant anything to him.

Like the years of friendship, companionship, camaraderie — all amounted to a tombstone with your name etched into it.

And he hates himself for it.

For being so complacent. For never seeing you. Never hearing you. Never reaching out. For always thinking you’d remain the same: the loyal, competent pillar in his life. For thinking that his silence meant nothing to you.

Because it did. It meant everything.

He hates how he’s living life like he always did — like you weren’t ever part of him. Regret, guilt, grief — they all settle in his bones, for a person he can’t even remember.

Along with the memory of you, time passed, as it always does. And as time passed, he slowly forgot.

Your goals and aspirations. Your loves, your hates.

Your dreams.

He can barely remember your face. The last time you laughed. Your smile.

He can barely remember you at all.

Only pulled in by the gravity of his grief, where he finds you at the centre of it all.

To think he was so far from you. The irony now is that he can’t ever leave.

Stuck on a cursed image of a woman who meant so much to him.

Who held the moon up so he could shine with the stars.

He sits on his bed, light voided from the room. The pictures from your apartment piled by his bedside, facing the stars, watching — as you always did.

For the first time, he’s not tired at all.

Is this how you felt? How restless you were?

When he showed up that time, too worried about MC and her anxieties. Too quick to solve her issues that he hadn’t noticed how your eye bags sank deep enough to stain your spirit. How you lay, lost, drifting to a place he couldn’t reach.

Dreaming of home.

And just like his home, his culture, his people — you too join the faint memory of Philos.

His phone buzzes, bright. The screen illuminates the room.

Xavier thinks it’s MC again — she doesn’t know the depth of what you and Xavier shared, but she understood the weight of long-term partnership.

At first, he answered every time — to relieve her worries, to silently say he was fine.

But now, everything feels like a farce.

A lie he tells himself as much as he tells the world.

If the absence, the silence, isn’t acknowledged — maybe it’ll keep things still. To stop time from moving.

Because if time doesn’t move, then the memory of you won’t fade.

And you’ve faded enough.

He picks up the phone and waits.

Then he hears it — the soft laughter he longed for. It’s gentle and hearty, so full of life.

Xavier peels the phone from his ear to peer at the screen.

Then he sees it. The light. The brightness of a smile lost to memory, now alone. It’s displayed in front of him — teeth bared, lips stretched wide with a feeling he hasn’t seen in years.

It’s you.

Laughing so freely. Smiling so widely.

You’re alive.

Xavier scrambles upright, leaning forward to see the screen more clearly.

It’s you — in clothes he’s never seen you wear, in a room he’s never seen before, with a face he barely remembers.

But he knows it’s you. 

How could he ever forget? Not truly.

So desperately, he calls out. Announcing himself, finally reaching out.

Your eyes perk in surprise as you lean in.

“Holy shit, did he just say my name? That’s crazy!” you giggle, and Xavier is too overcome with emotion to even question the absurdity of your words.

“No wonder people were glazing this game on Twitter!” you laugh before the call cuts.

Xavier’s too stunned to react. He taps rapidly through his phone to check the caller history.

Unknown.

He scrambles to call again.

Anticipation sweating off of him.

He holds his phone tightly and then— You pick up.

Your face: confused.

“Damn, I didn’t even level his affinity up yet and he’s calling already,” you mutter, peering at the screen.

Xavier looks dishevelled, almost destroyed. His hair is a messy heap, and dark circles shadow his eyes. The usual soft glow of his skin— dulled, lifeless.

He’s worn thin. A dead man walking.

“Hey,” Xavier says softly, almost inaudibly.

He watches your face shift — confusion to elation.

“Oh my god, you can even talk! Let me try again.”

And then you speak — not offhand commentary, but to him.

“Hi,” you greet, brightly enough to light up the room.

Xavier is at a loss, and doesn’t reply. But unlike before, you speak again.

“This is so cool. So like, does this count as my daily interaction?” you ask aloud, maybe to yourself, maybe to him— he can’t tell.

“Right, probably not in his programming to answer questions like that,” you mumble, before turning your full attention back to him.

“I’ll see you soon, alright? I hope this mechanic isn’t a glitch.” You grin softly.

And nothing in Xavier’s entire career could’ve prepared him for this.

But he’s not letting this opportunity go. Not when he has another chance to hear you, to see you — and even if he can’t touch you, he’ll never let go.

He’s not letting you slip.

Not now. Not ever. Not again.

“All right... I’ll see you soon,” Xavier replies simply.

Watching your face glow is enough for him.

The way your lips stretch, teeth bare — a face full of life.

Here, he decides: he’ll wait as long as you need.

As long as you want.

He’ll wait until the phone screen glows once again. He’ll wait to see you again.

Close enough to hear you. To see you. But never touch you.

…

ACT VI: ECHO

“Hi Xavier”

The unfair proximity of a dream

[written-in-knife]

@jadecat4 On it🫡

Blessed

Riddle, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia

Written with fem!reader in mind, can be read as any gender, literal hurt/comfort, swearing, kinda fluffy

tw: graphic descriptions of injuries, getting hit by vehicles, and hit and runs

Average around 650 words per character

pt.1 :: pt.2 :: pt.3 coming soon

Rounding out the housewardens, most of these dudes are canonical crybabies, I'm so excited lmaoo These are actually really fun to write? I'm most likely going to do more of these for everybody else, so stay tuned for that I guess. Also I'm a tags yapper if yall have any interest in my commentary

Riddle Rosehearts

It took you a long time of dating Riddle to convince him to leave campus with you. He had responsibilities, an entire dormitory of students to keep an eye on, he couldn't do that if he left campus with you. He only agreed to it after midterms were over and after you got Trey to promise he would uphold the set standards for a single evening. Even then, it was hard to get him to leave.

"My love, we're going to dinner, not on vacation." You teased as he went over his list with Trey for a fourth time. "Trey promised he would call if anything goes wrong, you'd be back here in fifteen minutes at most."

"I-I know!" He stammered, cheeks flushing at your light tone. "I just want to be sure."

He was able to get through the list once more before you pulled him out the door, Trey giving him a friendly shove on the way out. It's not as if the two of you had never been on dates before, but they were smaller affairs around the campus, never out in public. He was surprised to find that it was actually much more relaxed off campus, not having to fear any ridicule or drop in reputation from strangers he would never see again if he did something especially embarrassing in his lovestruck state. And you made it incredibly easy to be lovestruck. You were well aware at this point of his aversion to PDA, which made it all the more surprising when he was the one to reach out and grab your hand after you'd left the restaurant. You chatted idly about the food, your week, the weather, anything that popped into your heads as you started back towards campus. It was all incredibly easy with you.

You made it into a more residential area, watching a group of young kids playing basketball at a hoop just off the sidewalk. Riddle pointed out one of the kids, joking that he reminded him of Ace as he made the shot and missed, sending the ball bouncing away. You stifled a laugh as you watched the boy chase after the ball into the road. It was clear the kid wasn't paying attention to anything but the ball as a car came speeding down the road. You were behind the kid before you even realized what you were doing, the driver of the car laying on the horn, trying to swerve out of the way, to slam on the brakes as you shoved the kid forward as hard as you could. Riddle watched in horror as the car knocked you to the ground, stopping on top of you, one of your arms pinned under the tire and only your head and shoulders sticking out from beneath. He ran to you, ignoring the crying child who ran back towards the house, and stooped down to try to see your injuries. The car started to back up, dragging you across the road as it did, the tire rolling off your elbow with a sickening crunch. He shouted for them to stop as your blood smeared across the road between you, but they couldn't hear him. Or maybe didn't care. The best he could do for you was grab you under the arms to keep you from dragging further. Once the car had backed up enough to see you again, they spun the wheel and hit the gas, planning to leave. Riddle instinctively flung a spell at them, hitting the back passenger side door and only resulting in them driving faster. He so badly wanted to chase after them, make sure they were brought to justice, but he couldn't just leave you. He was very careful in how he rolled you over, supporting your head and trying his best to keep your arm still. He had to see your injuries, he had to see what he needed to fix. Your face had slammed into the pavement from the force at which you were knocked down, your nose clearly shattered, a still growing goose egg on your forehead, skin was ripped and flayed from where you were dragged across the rough surface, and your elbow... He wasn't sure how to fix something so incredibly crushed, nearly unrecognizable. But he had to try. He tried to triage what looked the most life threatening, the head injury of course. It was hard to see where he was aiming as he kept trying to blink tears away. In the time it took him to think through his plan, your body had settled. He was about to start his spell when there was another chilling crunch, moving his hands to see your nose repositioning itself, the goose egg shrinking, the road rash weaving shut. Your eyes were open.

All he could do was watch, frozen, as you sat up and turned to him, your injuries all but gone by the time your hands landed on his shoulders. You were saying something to him, he couldn't make out the words over the relieved sobbing coming out of his mouth. You pulled him into your arms, holding him tight and close as he clung to you. Even upon returning to the dorm, he didn't let go of your hand-- PDA be damned-- as he dragged you to his room. You weren't going to be leaving his side for a bit while he processed what happened, and with him so close, you really didn't mind.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul often bribed you to accompany him to town to meet with his vendors, promising to get you whatever you wished if you simply kept him company. You didn't need to be bribed to spend time with him, but if it made him feel better about asking, you weren't about to stop him. It was always fun spending time with him, especially when you were able to introduce him to new things. The first time you suggested boba was a treat to watch as his expression went through several stages of confusion before eventually coming to the conclusion that he did, in fact, enjoy it.

This time he took you for smoothies after meeting with his final vendor. You tried to always keep your requests from going too far out of the way and this one was just across the street. You listened intently to him talk about a new drink he wanted to serve at the lounge, an affogato. Apparently Floyd had read about it online and demanded to try it. He talked about how it ended up being quite enjoyable as he reached into the pocket of his jacket, trailing off as he reached into the other. You watched him pat around at his pockets for a second before groaning, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry, my pearl, I think I left my wallet..." He sighed heavily.

"No, you had it when we left." You reminded him. "You probably just left it across the street. Save our spot, I'll go get it."

You gave him a wide smile and a kiss on the cheek, stopping any argument he may have had and running out of the building before he could come up with a new one. He chuckled at your antics and shook his head, watching you jog up to the street for a moment before turning back to the menu to see what he would want. While examining the menu, he heard a loud gasp and a "holy shit" from other patrons. He was going to ignore it when he heard one of them say "they hit somebody and they're just gonna drive away?!" Azul's head snapped around so fast, he worried he may strain something, until he looked out the large windows past the worried patrons. He couldn't see much, but he did spot hair that looked far too similar to yours. In the road. His heart dropped, and he silently begged that it wasn't you as he bolted out of the shop to the scene of the accident. His resolve nearly shattered as he approached. It was you. Broken limbs and torn skin and so much blood crumpled in the middle of the road. He barely thought about it as he ran forward, stammering out healing spells to try to fix it. He would do anything, pay any price, for this to not be happening, not be real. He tried so hard to choke down the sobs in his throat to keep working on you, because it was working! Skin was stitching back together, bones were popping back into place... He wasn't doing this. He pulled his hands away as he watched you grab your own mangled arm, shaking it out like a dish rag to pop the bones back into their correct place, groaning only slightly as you did. He was still choking back sobs as you sat up and turned to him.

"So, what flavor are you getting?"

The question stopped everything dead in its tracks, the tears, his shaking, his breath. He just stared blankly at you for a moment before he broke out laughing at the ridiculousness, which quickly devolved into crying. You apologized quickly, picking the both of you off the ground to just go home. He didn't care about his wallet, he didn't care about his image, he just wanted to go home with you, glad that he still could.

Kalim Al Asim

You and Kalim snuck out on occasion to go do things in town without Jamil, turning your phones off to keep him from calling you. More often than not, it was just the two of you wandering around, enjoying each other's company. You'd ended up finding some really cool spots on these outings; an arcade, a candy store, a little art studio that was only open to the public three days a week, even a little shop that made their own henna. Kalim was always excited to go and find more with you, always with you. He figured the plain clothes of his club outfit made it harder for people to recognize him and called it good enough, plus it made the lie that he was just going to club meetings easier for Jamil to believe. You usually ended up wearing his hat or flannel while you were out, Kalim loving to see you in his clothing usually distracted him from buying out everything that even partially caught your eye.

The two of you were walking out of a shop, fingers intertwined, you laughing at something Kalim was gushing about. You'd barely made it halfway down the block when there was a squeal of tires from behind you, and you glanced back just in time to see a black van with tinted windows hopping the curb to barrel in your direction. You barely had time to shove Kalim into the recessed doorway of a shop as the van sped down the sidewalk, bowling over you with ease before popping back into the road and speeding away. Kalim couldn't see you from the doorway, you'd been dragged further down. He started to praise you for being so quick to save you both as he got back to his feet and returned to the sidewalk. The praise died in his throat with a strained gasp when he spotted you, mangled form limp on the concrete. He wasted no time ripping his phone out of his pocket, holding the button down to turn it back on as he ran. He was already sobbing heavily as he scooped you into his arms, he tried not to think about the way your spine moved too easily, or how your legs were bent in the wrong places at the wrong angles. He held your too still body against his chest like it would shield you from what had already happened, blood soaking into the white shirt, into his skin. He could feel it slicking his hands. The second his phone was back on, he dialed Jamil who answered in one ring. Kalim didn't give him a chance to get a word out as he sobbed incoherent explanations and directions to him, begging him to come help, to come save you. He was too distracted trying to give Jamil directions to where they were, eyes too full of tears to see your legs pop back into place. It wasn't until he felt you reach up to crack your neck back into the correct position that he froze, quickly looking down to see you laying in his arms as if nothing had happened, smiling sweetly up at him. But he could still feel your blood on his hands. He resumed his sobbing, dropping his phone to the ground to put both of his arms around you, holding you as tight as he could allow himself to as he cried into your shoulder.

When you made it back to the dorm, after getting cleaned up, Jamil sat the two of you down in Kalim's room to lecture you about how reckless and irresponsible these trips had always been, how the van had likely been aiming for him. Kalim wasn't listening, not fully. He'd tangled his limbs up in yours, holding you close with his ear resting over your heart to listen to it beat as you combed your fingers through his hair. You responded to his every whispered apology with quiet reassurance, and he could do nothing but believe you when you told him it was going to be alright.

Vil Schoenheit

You'd gotten permission to leave campus for the full weekend with Vil as his date for his latest movie premiere in Maquillaville. The first day went by in a daze of flashing lights and shouted directions, the only thing keeping you from being too overwhelmed was Vil, always at your side. Fingers laced with yours, an arm around your waist, he could tell when you were getting too tense and was right there to ground you again. Despite the absolute flurry of activity, it was actually a highly enjoyable time. The movie was amazing, Vil had done a remarkable job in his role, even if he was sick of being type cast. You held hands through the entire premiere, Vil lifting your hand to his lips to gently kiss your knuckles when you quietly gushed about him being on screen.

The next morning, you headed out to the train station. Vil planned for the two of you to take the long way back to school so you both could bask in not having any responsibilities for one day. You were hoisting the bags out of the trunk of the cab and passing them to Vil on the sidewalk as he talked about what you could do to pass the time in the private cabin. You'd handed him the last bag with a smile and were closing the trunk when you heard a loud crunch from behind you. You didn't have time to turn around before the car behind you was pushed forward and slammed into your back, crushing you between the two vehicles. Vil screamed your name as he watched the car that had caused the accident back away from the one it had slammed into you and sped away. He was pissed that they were just leaving, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. He couldn't see any of your injuries yet, your lower half still firmly pinned between the cars, but there was a distressing amount of blood pooling at your feet and you had yet to lift your head. He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks as he grabbed your hand the same way he had at the premiere, albeit shaky and a lot tighter. There was no warning when the cab pulled forward to release you from the pin, no way for Vil to keep you from just crumpling to the ground at his feet. He paid no mind to the blood that would soak into his pants as he knelt down next to you, lifting your head to rest in his lap. He only got to see how disfigured your pelvis and upper legs were for a moment before they started to move, flattened bones filling back out to return to their normal shape. He was too focused on your injuries disappearing before his eyes to notice your hand reach up to cup his cheek, causing him to startle and yelp.

"Are we going to miss our train?" You asked, far too casually for his liking.

He sighed heavily, leaning his head further into your touch. "Yes, darling, we are going to miss our train."

Idia Shroud

It was hard enough as is to get Idia to leave his room, let alone Ignihyde, let alone the campus. There was one thing you could get him to join you for in town, and that was game releases. There was just something about waiting in line for a physical copy release. You didn't know if it was the nostalgia or what, but it got Idia off campus with you early in the morning to wait for the store to open. And so what if afterwards you dragged him somewhere in public to grab breakfast? He was already off campus, how much worse could it possibly get?

The two of you hadn't even made it to the diner yet, Idia hidden in his hoodie listening to you excitedly talk about this new game release and how you couldn't wait to play it with him. He'd chime in with his own commentary here and there, just loud enough for you to hear him, while giving the minimal strangers on the sidewalk a wide berth. He pulled out his phone to look up the answer to a question you'd asked about it, while you pulled slightly ahead of him to cross the road. He'd only looked down for a second when he heard tires squeal, then a sickening thud and crunch. In the brief moment it took for him to look down at his phone, and back up, you were laid out on the pavement, a car peeling off down the street away from the scene. He nearly fumbled his phone in his hurry to press the emergency beacon for Ortho to follow as he hurried over to you.

"No, no, no..."

The sight was nearly enough to make him pass out; the back of your shirt ripped open-- a disturbing amount of skin along with it-- from where the car went over top of you, your hand and one of your legs were nearly unrecognizable from where they had been crushed under the wheels, your hand was too close to your head, way too close. He ripped his hoodie off, pressing it into the large wound on your back with shaking hands. He couldn't do this again, he couldn't lose another person that meant so much to him, not again. He was begging for you to stay with him under his breath, through his panicked tears, when he felt movement under his hands. He saw the disfigured shape of what had been your hand start to writhe with the movement of the bones underneath as they returned to their correct placements. That was all he saw before he passed out. When he came back to, he was in his bed in the dorm. For a moment, he thought it was just another horrible nightmare until he looked over and saw you at his desk, wearing one of his clean hoodies, playing on your phone with the start menu of the game the two of you had picked up on his screen. You glanced over, giving him a wide smile when you met his eyes, as if you hadn't been mutilated in the road the last time he saw you.

"Hey, you okay?" You asked, moving over to sit next to him on the bed.

He didn't say anything, just grabbed your hand-- the one that had been crushed-- and pulled it to him to press the back of it against his cheek. He probably wasn't okay, but he was so immensely glad that you were.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[rosenclaws]

ROSE!!

Your thoughts on different Logan’s with a s/o who are very bitey and otherwise lowkey obsessed with skin on skin contact? Like we be having our hand in his shirt (or his pants) just because and it’s not even necessarily sexy or smth there’s just something so addicting about the way his skin and body warmth feels yknow?? Like ugh he’d feel so safe

So real I would want to be on Logan like a tick if he was real

Origins Logan -

He loves it. He finds it adorable that you're so clingy. You can't keep your hands off him and he takes advantage of that. Walking around shirtless a lot more than he really should. He likes it when you crawl into his lap when he's on the touch and just have your hands all over his chest. He teases you about it too and asks if you'd rather he just walk around naked. He would if you asked tbh. Okay but He would soo be into you biting him. The marks won't last but like. Imagine you're just sitting in his lap watching TV and you're mindlessly biting his arm because he gives you cuteness aggression lol.

Trilogy Logan -

He fucking eats it up. He loves seeing you all needy for him and wanting your hands on him. Slipping them up his shirt is his favorite. He'll be sitting on the couch manspreading and you're next to him with your hand just mindlessly rubbing up and down his stomach. Also the first time you bite him he's taken by surprise. He swears and jumps when he feels your teeth sink into his arm. Totally confused tf out of him but he's not against it. You just gotta warn him next time. He tells you that you can bite as hard as you want too with a wink and you take him up on that. Just cuddling in his lap while you're hands are playing with his chest hair or something lmao. Also he asks if he can bite you too bc it's only fair >:)

DOFP Logan -

He finds it cute. He sees the way you pout and stare at him and he just sighs and pulls you close to him and lets you stick your hands down his pants while you cuddle. He doesn't really understand it but he's not gonna stop you. Eventually he does ask and you tell him it's because he's so damn warm and he soothes you. He's never heard that one before. He wears loose clothing on purpose so you can get under them easier. Oh my god dofp logan in grey sweatpants sdafjkasdjkfo. anyways. He doesn't understand the biting but that makes it more fun. You'll be cute and sweet one moment and then bam. Biting his neck the next. He calls you his little vampire.

Old Man Logan -

He doesn't get why you're so attached to him sometimes. Why you want to see him shirtless or have your hands on him but he likes it. He runs hot but your hands feel so good on him, especially if its a massage or just having you on him. You're kinda like his weighted blanket sometimes. You'll rub his shoulders or his back when he's sore and cuddle up to him like a cat because he's so warm. He doesn't like the biting but you nip at him still. Just little bites here and there and he just rolls his eyes but he does think its a little cute.

Worst Logan -

He loves it the most. 100% he loves it the most oh my god he loves knowing that you want him that bad. That you trust him and feel so comfortable with him. It really makes him happy. Of all the Logans to wear a crop top its this one. I've got it on the brain what can I say. But he'll walk around in a slutty crop top because he likes it when you stare at his bare skin. He lets your hands on him at all times. The biting he's also really into. He tells you that you can bite him whenever you want as long as he gets to do the same. He likes to bite your ass the most

[freshllamapeace]

A False Sense

Remmick x Reader

 Holy crap I felt like I was writing interview with a vampire with the amount of dialogue and recounted there is in this. Uh slow burn and you talk like a lot… 

Warning - Death, Vampires, blood, all that jazz, Dead dove (not really but part two will be) 

Part ½, possible prequel 

Bruises didn’t stick and wounds healed quick but… the memories, they were haunting. They refuse to leave, replaying in the back of your skull like a broken cassette tape. Yet you still managed to keep a smile on your face because you survived it. Even managed to kill the fucker and sever that damn connetion but in the back of your head you worry that maybe it isn’t over.  

You sat on the floor of the woods, blood dripping from your mouth, dirt staining your hands. The man before you was breathing heavily, your eyes watching as his chest rose and fell and his Adam's apple bobbed. 

“Do you think that's enough?” He asked sheepishly, sweat running down his forehead. His breath was hot and his eyes were sunken. He was tired, you had taken more than you promised. You smile, teeth shining in the moonlight.  Grabbing the blade you'd been using all night long to carve the man up, you gently wiped the metal on your dress allowing the red ichor to stain the fabric before pocketing it. Laying your back to the earth, you look to the stars. They shined down bright and friendly like an old friend. The one constant in your immortal life were those twinkling lights, people came and went, animals died, and nature often left destroyed but those pretty lights never left. Sure there were nights where it was harder to see them than others but you knew they were still there and that's what brought you comfort night after night.  “Yeah I think so.” You stated, closing your eyes and allowing the cold air to affectionately kiss at your skin. “I think I may have over done it tonight.”

“I think so too.” Louis grimaced in pain as he laid next to you. His eyes running up and down your body, looking for something, anything that was out of place and would point to the monster he believed you to be. The longer his eyes looked the more his mind drifted to the conclusion that there was nothing out of the ordinary about you, you had no tells. And that, well that wasn’t okay. It put him on edge, his skin crawled and tiny goosebumps would materialize on his brown skin. Just the thought that he couldn’t tell your kind apart from his kind frightened him but still he said nothing. “You know it’s been three years since you smashed into me and my sister's life like battering ram. And still you ain’t very forthcoming about yourself.” He pauses looking to you for a reaction that wouldn’t come. “It ain’t fair you know.” 

Letting out a deep sigh in what could only be human mockery, you groan. Slowly you flutter your eyes open as if waking from a thoughtless slumber. “Three years, huh? Time really is but a stubborn illusion, a fleeting moment constantly on the run.” You smile, soft, kind. “Fine… I'm an open book. What do you want to know?” You ask as you use your elbow to lift you up. Looking deep into Louis' worn out eyes. You should get him home soon. 

“How’d you come to be like this? And don’t reply with no poetic bullshit, okay? I ain’t stupid, I want the real answer.” Bold boy, he was. His hunger for answers pumping through his veins, a need for knowledge ripping through the air. Your instincts told you to dance around the question, run him in circles till he was dizzy just like you always did but what good would come out of that. You’d spent the last three years doing so and now the jig was up. “Well ain’t that a loaded question.” You laugh trying to hide your unease. 

“I was hunted… hunted like a baby fawn.” You took a deep breath, the memories engulfing you like a dark cloud. The face you tried so hard to forget flashing in your mind like a film reel. “He said he loved me. Said he knew me better than I knew myself.” You allowed yourself to let out a bitter chuckle. “In the end, I guess he did.” Louis looked on quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I let him in one night. My hunger, my lust, it clouded my judgement. He wasted no time showering me with love and adoration, it was nice.” A distant smile appeared on your face before dropping. 

“I allowed the events of the night to creep up on me, lulling me to sleep in his arms. When I woke the sweet remnants of sleep still hung to my body but also this indescribable dread. It clung to me like a leach, buried itself in the pit of my stomach. He was gone of course, the morning rays shining down on my dark skin, giving it a reluctant golden hue. I still remember how beautiful that sunrise was that day. The midtones of orange, yellow and even a luminescent pink clashing with each other for control of the sky, as the sun smiled down at all creation. It was so warm, so friendly, I could’ve fallen back into the arms of slumber in an instant if it wasn’t for the nauseating dread that was clinging to me.” You didn't realize it but your breathing became uneven as your mind went to the events that followed after that sunrise. You closed your eyes if only for a moment. 

You were there again. Feet anxiously climbing down the stair case as a sickening rotting fragrance filled your nose. Eyes wide as you looked at the gore before you. This wasn’t real, it couldn't be. Your dads body was broken, contorted in ways that didn’t seem possible. His bones poked out where they shouldn’t and stomach gashed open with his intestines spilling out. His eyes were haunting, the lively brown hue they carried, now gone and greyed over. Not far from him was your mother. Her face stretched out in horror, the expression ingrained in her loving brown features. Her throat was completely shredded, all components on display. You could even see the pale white bone making an appearance through the heaps of blood. A wail so guttural and raw left your mouth that night and you cried for hours on end. You had come to believe it was your fault. 

“Y/n you’re crying.” You blinked a moment. You mind racing at an inhuman pace you struggled to catch up. You smile, wiping the cherry tears from your face, you laugh. “Sorry about that.” 

“Anyways I woke up that day to my parents dead in the living room and my dog, Little Daisy gored on front porch.” You breath, pulling your body forward you sat up before crossing your legs. “He left me to stupor in his actions, he enjoyed watching it eat at me from a far. It took me months to leave the house after that. Reduced to a hermit, I lived in fear. But it’d be years before he’d strike again. He waited, waited til I was comfortable, happy, safe. He was always content to play the long game. Something I never grew to understand.” 

“Why didn’t he just kill you that night? Turn while you were laying up in bed with him.” You laugh sharp and bitter. “You listening to me? He didn’t kill me because what’s the fun in that?” You asked. “I let him in and for that, there needed to be consequences. My parents and little Daisy were just that… Consequences.” 

“But you let him in again, didn’t you?” Louis accused. “How else would he have gotten his hand on you?” 

“Of course not. I would’ve never let him in, I don’t purposely make the same mistake twice.” You left those words in the air for a moment. Silence surrounding the two of you. 

“Like I said, he waited. Waiting till he became a distant memory in the back of my mind. Waited for me to get bold. Waiting was what he was good at. It took a while but I did get bold, started testing my luck by going outside when the sun sunk low. I had to… needed to, the house was suffocating, had been for years but I couldn’t bring myself to go anywhere else. All my memories resided there, riding my first bike, the many piggybacks my father gave me, my mother and the ‘secret’ girls night we’d have when dad was working late. I latched onto it all because outside of memories all I had was the house. My parents weren’t well off so to give them a proper burial I sold things, things that I would’ve treasure if I knew better.” 

“But April 26 19XX I chose to be bold. Bold for the last time. I sat on the wooden swinging chair that resided on the porch, an old thing with striking baby blue paint littered on it. Long aged, the paint was chipped and peeling but she was still a beauty. I was tired, lazy, the book that resided in my lap long since abandoned and my eyes began fluttering closed. It’d been a long time since I’d had the chance to fall asleep with the wind kissing so lovingly on my skin. I took the risk, I acted boldly, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.” “No” Louis whispered clearly enraptured by your story. 

“I don’t know what time I woke up but when I did the moon was softly shining down on me. It was comforting but only for a moment. I felt time slow as the wood of the chair creaked. He was sitting beside me doing what he did best, watching and waiting.” You wouldn’t dare go over the intimated details of how that night unfolded. The things you endured that night never meant to be recounted or relived. “He turned me that night, just before sunrise.” Your voice was quiet barely audible above the crickets and cicadas as they sang. 

“But you say you killed him!” Louis said his voice full of hope. The words noticeably coming out loud and proud. “That what sis says anyways.” He said his tone shifting to be a bit meeker after noticing his voice had scared aways many of wildlife that resided in the forest. Another true and genuine smile found itself pressed into your lips. The brother and sister duo really did crack you up with their antics. A shame you were only feeding on the one tonight. “Where’s your sister anyways?” You asked. 

“My question first.” Eager was the serpent to feast. His hunger for knowledge leaves holes in his stomach that only you could fill. You chuckled. “Yeah I suppose I did. But that didn’t come first, What came first was severing the ‘connection’ we had.” “Connection?” He questioned. 

“Vampires have this connection to one another, like a symbiosis relationship. Not only did he get my memories but I got his. I saw the countless nights he spent waiting for me. I saw his first hand account of him murdering my parents, my dog. And those memories, they drove me crazy. They replayed in my head like a fucking siren. It felt like it was his doing, like he was the reason they wouldn’t stop like he wanted me to watch those moments over and over again. And maybe he did, he had a peculiar way he went about things.” There was a profound sadness now present in your eyes. Louis sat seemingly amazed at just how expressive your eyes were. They told their own story time and time again. 

“Now about that sister of yours?” You asked, giving a friendly tilt of the head. As Louis opened his mouth to answer, the sound of a branch snapping could be heard loud and clear. You both snapped your head in the direction of the noise. Your body immediately stiffened and you felt as though all the blood you had just received ran cold. What stood before you was hardly a few feet away. A ghost of a man with blood soaked clothes, in his hand he held an iron grip on the decapitated head of Zuri, Louis’ sister. The spinal bone still attached, her eyes were stuck staring back at you in horror. You could only imagine what her last moments looked like.

“She ain’t wanna miss out on the pleasantree’s thought I'd bring her with me.” Remmick voice and smooth and sweet like honey, always was. Even when he would whisper in your ear about how he would break every bone in your body. It made you sick. Louis cried out his eyes never leaving his sister's head, tears started to rain down his face like a water hose that was not quite shut off. “How?” The word came out quiet, frightened. 

“I did what I do best darlin’… Watched and waited.” He mocked. He had been there lurking far longer than you realized.

__________________________________

I wanna do mafia AU next man

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: how do the tkdb boys react to being hooked up to the menstrual cramp simulator?

WARNINGS: talk of menstruation, eating troubles in sho's.

COMMENTS: tried to keep in mind that most boys dont have periods on their minds like . most of the time i would assume.

Jin never doubted that you were in pain, but he has no doubt he’s made you work while you have your period. Going through the simulator, he sits there with his back hunched after level six. Once you get him out of the machine, he tells you to take the rest of the day off. The next time he sees you he asks what you need to minimize the pain.

Tohma is as cool as a cucumber until the very last levels. It’s a bit unsatisfying that he doesn’t really give you a reaction, but he does acknowledge that it hurts. Mentions that if you ever need assistance with your cycle, he would be more than happy to help out. It sounds sketchy but...well, that’s up for your interpretation.

Luca will see it through. You can keep upping the levels and he won’t tap out, he will stick to it until the very end. The second you turn it off and he takes off the pads, he’s immediately apologizing. Luca swears up and down that he will do anything to help you out with your period from now on.

Kaito starts flinching and whining after level four. Three, even. He has a low pain tolerance and HATES pain, but you know, he’ll do anything for you. Apologies over and over and taps out officially after level six. He’s sniveling and whining at your feet for the rest of the day.

Alan doesn’t flinch, but you can see him get progressively sadder. He looks at you like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders this whole time. He thanks you after you’ve turned the machine off, saying that he’s glad he understands you better now. Alan is the sweetest ever about it.

Sho is so, so worried about your stomach when you turn on the machine. Like, this already hurts. How do you eat and digest food effectively like this? The higher the levels go the more in pain he looks, and after it’s all said and done he’s asking you if you need him to make the lightest soup known to man so you don’t get sick and puke everywhere. Worrywart.

Leo would ham it up if it was for a camera, but since you promised you weren’t filming (and he likes you enough to believe you), he gives you his...authentic reactions. Whether you believe him or not is up to you. He looks like he’s in pain from about level five...but how much of that can you trust?

Haru is clutching your thighs, knelt in front of you at your feet, apologizing over and over for all the times he called you over when you might have been on your period. Key word: might. Haru just doesn’t want to hurt you! To think, you suffer so much every month...it’s unthinkable. And yes, Haru could withstand all of the levels and more, but you? This amount of pain shouldn’t happen to you.

Towa doesn’t quite understand it, and he’ll get a little grumpy after you put him through all that pain. But once it clicks that you go through that every month, Towa is politely asking you if there’s anything he can do to stop your pain. (And by politely, of course I mean threatening someone.) He needs to protect you! How is he supposed to do that from an unseen threat?

Ren snorts and says it's not that big of a deal at first, but you can tell that he’s in pain after level six. Once it's over, he’ll find ways to pamper you in subtle ways, because now that hurts like a bitch. He won’t say it out loud, he never does. But you can tell by the way his hands were clenched into fists that he was struggling.

Taiga could go one of two ways: he gets sick of it after level eight and yanks it off, getting pissy because you approached him in a bad mood just to put him in more pain, OR he thinks of it as a fun game and describes exactly how he feels to you while lounging on the couch. Tells you he’s proud of you for being such a tough kitty.

Romeo yells at you to get on with it! if you’re taking too long. He doesn’t take kindly to slackers, and his time is precious, so—OW. Romeo hisses through his teeth, wincing at the sudden stab of pain. Is this really how it feels? He demands to know. How could you not tell him your cramps hurt like this!?

Ritsu is as attentive as always, doing prior research beforehand. He comes to you with what he believes cramps may feel like and asks for clarification, only to be hooked up to the machine. He does well for the first half, then starts to furrowed his brow after level seven.  Damn Sinostra and their good pain tolerances!

Subaru is ready and willing to connect with you like this. It’s an honor and a privilege to be someone to you, and so he will do his best to tell you what he honestly thinks. For the first few levels, his expression is mostly blank. The fourth level is when a small gasp escapes his throat and his eyes go wide. Another one who apologizes immediately after you get the machine off of him.

Haku takes it easy, allowing you to hook him up to the simulator. Whatever his princess wants, he’ll get. Something about the way you look at him tells him that you’re getting a kick out of this—so he’ll tell you what he honestly thinks, and then proceed to ask you more questions about your cycle.

Zenji wants nothing more than to understand you and your pain. If you ask him, this is a logical solution! If anything, he asked if there was a way to feel your pain first. Another one who cries when it gets past level four. You’re so strong, he’s going to compose ballads about your bravery!

Edward is a little shit about it. I can’t decide whether he wouldn’t know anything about periods or whether he’d watch random YouTube videos about it because he’s weird. Probably the latter. Assuming he knows, he’d ask you about your symptoms and pain levels WHILE the simulator is going. Once it’s over and he’s given you zero reaction, he tells you he can smell it on you whenever it happens. He’s so weird T0T

Rui will wait on you every month after this. He’s devastated that you have to go through something like this every month, and he can’t even hold you. I’m not even kidding this man will start to CRY. He’s so sad that you have all this pain. It should have been him. WHY WASN’T IT HIM.

Lyca wants to feel what you feel. Literally the meme “it’s uterUS.” If you’re going to go through this pain, he should know how to feel to better help you, obviously. Now, Lyca doesn’t regret that decision, but he does have some words for the fucker who made you have those cramps. What do you mean it just happens!?

Yuri knows how periods work—he has students in Mortkranken and other houses who come to him for products and painkillers. But experiencing it? He’s trying his best to remain composed but will tap out after level seven. Cannot handle that much pain, plus his ego is bruised now. Tell him he did a good job. :(

Jiro stares you dead in the face while you up the levels one after another, searching for any sort of reaction from him. Honestly, Jiro has the highest pain tolerance. He’s the type to ask why you haven’t started it yet when you’re on level seven. I’m sorry T0T

[ritosparty]

"I see you..."

Black Wolf part 1

(Bob Reynolds x Male reader!)

Things you have to know 🫵🏻: The oc is called Dimitri, he is Yelena's twin and his nickname is Dima although only Yelena and Natasha call him that.

He was trained in parallel with the Black Widow program Black Wolf program.

Volk means Wolf in russian

------

You walked out of the training room with a towel over your shoulder, exhausted after three hours of keeping in shape. There were no missions, and the only things you could do to stay occupied were either train or bother the others—and training was already done.

Heading straight to the lounge in search of your next distraction, you couldn’t help but recognize a certain brown-haired head sticking out over the back of the couch.

—“What are you doing, Bob?” —you said, walking up behind him.

Bob jumped at the sound of your unexpected voice, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

—“Dimitri! I’m sorry, I-I didn’t see you coming,” —Bob said as he adjusted himself to look at you.

—“Of course you didn’t! I’m trained to move like a ghost, honey,” —you said as you sat beside him, trying not to draw too much attention to the way he blushed at the nickname. Bob simply kept his eyes on the book in his hands.

—“Come on, Bob, why so nervous? I don’t bite… unless you want me to do it.”

—“Yeah. Well, sort of. I just... I’m bad at this. With people. With you.”

—“Me?” —you smiled, tilting your head— “What is it about this humble, charming Russian that makes you so nervous sweetheart?”

Bob swallowed, avoiding your gaze. You smiled without looking away from him for a second. How could you? You loved reading every little reaction his body gave to your teasing, your flirtations. Every time you called him "honey", "sweetheart", or "darling", his face would turn red and he’d look anywhere but at you.

For you, it was beautiful and fun. But for him? It was terrifying.

Every time he heard those words come from your lips, his heart stopped—and the fact that he didn’t understand why your presence made him so nervous only made it worse.

He kept wondering how you and Yelena could be twins. Physically, sure, there was a resemblance—but mentally? You were completely different. She was more reserved, sometimes aggressive. You? You treated everything like a joke, like nothing really bothered you.

—“You talk so easily. You move with so much confidence. I… I usually go unnoticed. And when people do notice me, it’s usually with fear.”

—“Fear is for those who don’t dare to look deeper,” —you said, leaning a little closer— “But I see you, Bob. I’ve seen you from the very beginning. And as long as I’m here, you’re never going to be ignored.”

Bob slowly lifted his gaze, like those words had given him permission to breathe. His blue eyes met yours—doubtful, but also grateful.

—“And if one day… I lose myself again?” —he asked in a whisper.

—“Then I’ll find you,” —you answered without hesitation— “No matter how many times it happens. That’s what people who stay do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was warm. Charged. Bob leaned in slightly, like he was searching for something but didn’t know how to ask.

You did it for him.

You leaned in slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted. He didn’t. When your lips touched his, it was soft, brief, careful… but so honest it left him breathless.

When you pulled away, his cheeks were burning—but for the first time, he didn’t look away.

—“Thank you,” —he murmured.

—“For the kiss or for staying?” —you asked with a tilted smile.

—“Both,” —he answered, smiling back.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone.

They remained seated on the couch together. The room was quiet, only the low hum of the base’s systems filling the space. After the kiss, the silence between them felt different. Warm. Peaceful.

Bob fidgeted with his hands, visibly nervous. Dima glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, not pressuring him.

—“Dimitri…” —Bob began, not looking directly at him— “I’ve never… I’ve never felt like this about a man before.”

Dima blinked once, then smiled gently.

—“Does that scare you?”

—“I don’t know. Maybe a little. It’s more than that. It’s strange, I… I didn’t expect to feel this way about you. About anyone, really.”

—“What do you feel?” —Dima asked, not teasing now. No playful tone. Just genuine interest.

Bob sighed, like he was letting go of a weight.

—“You make me feel… seen. And that scares me. Because if you see me, then you can see how broken I am. How unstable.”

Dimitri reached out and placed a hand over Bob’s, firm but gentle.

—“I’m broken too, Bob. I’ve just learned to carry it with style,” —he added with a wink, trying to coax a small laugh out of him—and he did, lightening the mood.

“And if what you’re feeling for me is new... that’s okay. You don’t have to understand it all right now.

Just… don’t hide from it.”

Bob nodded slowly, his eyes still uncertain—but he didn’t pull his hand away.

—“And you?” —he finally asked— “What do you feel?”

Dimitri smiled again, that signature blend of mischief and tenderness.

—“I feel that if I kiss you again right now… I might not want to stop,” —you said, brushing your thumb along Bob’s lip, still red from the kiss— “And that, for the first time in a long while, I actually want to stay somewhere… with you.”

Bob let out a soft laugh—for the first time that day.

—“You’re amazing.”

—“I know,” —Dima said, winking again— “But I like how it sounds coming from you.”

They leaned into another kiss, longer, firmer. This time, Bob returned it with more certainty.

The kiss lasted a few seconds longer before they pulled apart, sharing a quiet smile. Bob looked more relaxed, and Dima watched him like he’d found something worth protecting.

From the hallway, a figure watched from the shadows, leaning against the wall. It was Yelena. Arms crossed, she smiled to herself with a mix of pride and tenderness.

—“About time,” —she muttered in Russian, barely audible.

With a near-maternal gesture, she turned and walked away in silence, leaving the two men alone in the room, uninterrupted.

Dima gently ran his thumb across Bob’s hand.

—“Did you know we were being watched?”

—“What?”

—“Nothing, nothing. Just… when the others find out, I won’t let anyone make fun of you.

Except me.”

Bob laughed, finally at ease.

—“That sounds… fair.”

_______________________________

Tag list: @i-shall-abide @firedupauthor

Holaaaa Let me know if you like it 'cus I have MORE ideas for this two lovebirds!

[erwinsvow]

What about reader being Langdon’s sister 👀 she’s so different to her older brother, sweet and quiet and doesn’t show off, Langdon is definitely the protective type as well, can imagine if we had seen them interact more Abbot and Langdon would butt heads frequently

ooooo i like this a lot. as always its langdons adopted sister dont forget it folks. hmm you’re cooking because it would be really funny if everyone was expecting langdon 2.0. little langdon!!!! like little grey. and maybe you’re very different from him so it’s even funnier. if someone asks for langdon they have to clarify which one. if they say ‘the nice one’ they mean you!! i think it’d be funny to see them bickering over patient care like siblings fighting over a toy. your langdon-ness really comes out when you’re arguing with frank over course of action but disappears with virtually everyone else though they know it’s inside of you (like when a patient is rude and you say something biting without thinking twice about it or when it comes to defending your favorite attending because your brother is a dumbass. guess who, by the way.) because they put you on night float after the first few months because everyone’s gotta suck it up and try it at least once. you didn’t even expect yourself to like it as much as you do, though you know why you do. in a sea of a hundred people in day shift telling you you’re nothing like frank, jack stops you after your first night shift and tells you he sees a lot of your brother in you. and you’re confused but it’s seven am so you go home and think about what he meant the entire day. ask for an explanation the next day—you know robby likes your brother but you’ve never heard anything about jack getting along with him (makes sense. your brother is such a nuisance. you don’t know how mel puts up with him all day.) and then jack says something about how you both have great instincts and quick hands and when you jump headfirst into a trauma and say you’ve got a spidey sense about something he sees frank in you back when he was a first year on night float with jack. and your response is you think i have great instincts? and so he kind of laughs and you kind of stick to night shift long after you should have begged to be pulled off. and oh ho, boy is your brother mad when he finds out you two are dating. even besides the age difference which is appalling to him (though he watched heather and robby go nuts for each other for six months their first year and did nothing but encourage heather to go for it) he’s your boss!!! he’s your attending!! it’s a conflict of interest (like him dating a co-resident isn’t when he’s about to be an attending next year.) and suddenly frank goes from arguing with you at every turn to very seriously defending you and having a stern conversation with jack about his intentions and eventually cracks and yells at him—by the way, jack is still his attending, he’s still a fourth year—and yells something like you can’t date my sister! and then something else about you’re twice her age and she’s a first year and i don’t care about robby and collins and this is not the same thing and- jack listens very patiently, and then looks around at the dozen people who overheard the conversation, pats frank on the shoulder, and walks away. and when you find out what happened is the first time everyone in the day shift saw just how much like frank you could really be

[supremefloof]

tbhx pokemon AU, pt. 4 - Enlighter/God Eye, Miss J

More Yap, explanations, extra imgs below cut

"A constant collector of information, this Pokémon is very smart. Very strong is what it isn’t." - Blipbug, SwSh pokedex

I went into this with the idea that most people, especially people in cities, just logically can't deal with a full six creatures. This is different for Heroes of course since battling is more important for them.

However, even Heroes often keep unevolved pokémon with them/don't have a full team. NOBODY ON THE PLANET in this AU will EVER see a standard meta VGC team for as long as I breath, I promise. No, Not Even X.

funnily enough, these two were the easiest to decide on for some reason. Qi Shi could've easily had a full team!

Qi Shi's pokemon, as seen here: Rotom, Inkay, Blipbug -> Orbeetle, Seviper. The little black critters are not pokemon but the Spotlight Org's drones! I really liked the idea that the robots in ep.4 look like miniature Rolycoly! there's no reason for this it just sounded like fun. look at it :D

Miss J: Meowstic-F, Klefki! she keeps them in Luxury Balls; she seems like she puts a lot of effort into her appearance. Klefki is always polished and Meowstic is always groomed!

all her underlings are terrified of that Meowstic.

Meowstic, Seviper, Inkay courtesy of @cedarwrought

Enlighter probably starts off with Rotom and Blipbug. picks up Inkay somewhere along the way, and Seviper around when he starts getting obsessed with investigating Nice. (he's different in ep.6... something happened to him in those 5 years...)

oh and blipbug -> dottler -> orbeetle

Rotom helps with all those techy things! Orbeetle and Rotom together are responsible for the Moon decoy.

idk if he should bring Inkay to the episode 4 fight, it just seems a bit too cute. However, a Malamar would eat him alive 😭he is never evolving that thing

maybe Spotlight pretends to be his Inkay instead of an octopus

I had an idea about the Spotlight Organization controlling Zygarde to some extent. not the whole thing, just a chunk of it?

dunno about this, thematically for SO and Enlighter it doesn't make sense - the only thing I could think of that's related is that Zygarde is meant to bring balance. so maybe if SO is balancing Trust with Fear or something. but its also like, about the environment, which SO is def not about. However, the point of this idea is that they can lend Enlighter a Zygarde 10%!

the color scheme matches perfectlyyyy. im a sucker for matching colors...

Zygarde 10% also breaks apart after a short while, like how Qi Shi's new drip stopped working for some reason. so that would be the random bs that lets Lin Ling win (+ GE's seviper getting... sidetracked), although it would be stacked against him anyways.

unrelated notes:

pleaseeee new episodes make genesect for yang cheng make sense some how im weirdly invested into the "reasonability" of the pokemon in this au. like i could just stick him with pikachu and call it a day but noooo the lore has to fit and stuff. my brain demands it.

for the first time in a while I used over half of my webglazes in a week? I've been super focused on drawing stuff lately because of tbhx and the amazing tumblr community <3. glaze your artworks!

what is up with pokemon sizes. you're telling me blipbug and orbeetle are the same size? why is seviper over EIGHT feet tall??

prev

[veritas-scribblings]

finally - @black-brothers-microfic - words: 825 [notes: undertones of rosestarkiller; past bartylus; implied future character death that is canon-compliant; apparently I really like writing "off to the cave" Regulus...]

Regulus does not say goodbye to Barty or Evan.

He cannot bring himself to find the words or the gestures because if he tries, he will never leave. He will cling to them, accept Barty’s offer to run (run to where, to inevitable death?). And then where would they be?

“We stay together and die together” had seemed more romantic when they were still school boys huddled together in their tight little ball of comfort and the prospect of death had been entirely hypothetical. When they’d all been so sure that they would die for each other rather than watch each other die, because they still didn’t quite grasp the reality of war.

Regulus knows now that he cannot save Barty and Evan. He does not have the power to prevent the inevitable headlong rush of death barrelling towards them. What he can do, however, is increase their chances of survival exponentially.

And so this is what he will do.

The night that Regulus leaves, Barty does not sleep. At 3am, he’s wrapped himself around Regulus, long fingers playing with Regulus’s messy curls, reading by wand light.

See, Barty never sleeps. The last time Barty slept (truly slept, not half-slept or micro-slept) was probably back in early 1977 when Regulus and Barty had come down with temporary insanity and had attempted to engage in an honest-to-Merlin romantic relationship. Of course, everything had exploded between them (because that’s what happens when two volatile and combustive substances are combined) and at the time Barty had, for some unfathomable reason, decided that the only way to truly stick it to Regulus was to actually start partaking in that thing called sleep.

Regulus too does not sleep. Not now, at least. He’s been fighting it for the better part of three hours, watching the clock on the wall rapidly tick time away, listening to Barty’s quiet humming on one side of him and Evan’s even breathing on the other.

Evan is dead to the world. And thank Salazar for that, because while Barty (for all his intelligence) often needs emotions to punch him in the face to truly pick up on them, Evan is much more socially switched on. He would take one look at Regulus and his lack of sleep and the heavy weight on his heart, and he would know.

Regulus burrows deeper under the covers into Barty’s arms, savouring the feel of Barty’s fingers tangling in his hair. Listening to the slow thud-thud-thud of Barty’s heart beat. Watching the rise and fall of Evan’s chest.

He thinks, yes, they are alive.

He thinks, as alive as we can all be.

Regulus is at peace with what is to come. It is the end of the road for him. He feels it more than he knows it. He will not emerge from the cave alive. He will try with every last ounce of strength he has to come home to Barty and Evan—he will fight until his very last breath—but if he cannot, he is okay with that. Perhaps, in fact, it is better that way.

After every atrocity he has committed and borne witness to and failed to stop, he fears what the war has made him. What it is continuing to make him and who he will be at the other end.

Would he recognise himself at all?

When Barty’s fingers stop their gentle scratches at Regulus’s scalp, Regulus peers up at him. Barty is mid-thought, deep in his book, the little tell-tale crease between his brows indicating that the cogs of his brain are turning and he is conjuring what he calls “brilliant schemes”. Schemes he will likely later take to Bellatrix, because that’s Barty’s job: to think up brilliant schemes and do the fancy, complicated magic.

Barty hums quietly and wrinkles his nose, flipping back through his book. And Regulus’s resolve cracks a little because he can’t help but despair.

Why did they waste all those months months bickering angrily in their fifth year? Why did they do that to each other and to Evan, who had been caught in the middle of it all?

Why did they spend almost all of their seventh year bickering and fighting and avoiding each other?

Why did they not try harder to keep Barty away all of this?

And why are they not doing more to hold Evan together? Because Regulus knows that Evan is already on the verge of breaking and losing him might be what pushes Evan over the edge.

Regulus reaches out and lays a hand on Evan’s chest, feeling that rise and fall, the deep and steady breaths that tell Regulus that, even though Evan may not feel it anymore, he is still very much alive.

Regulus is at peace with his own impending end; selfishly so. Though, he realises, he may not be quite as at peace with leaving Barty and Evan behind to deal with the aftermath.

[sunrisecaminus]

Heyoooo!

May I request for some fluff of tfp optimus being adorable with his partner?

Thank you ^_^ <3

Message - Just got back from exams. Here is your adorable ass story 0///0.

Optimus x Human Reader

Summary - Optimus and his human conjunx go on an adventure together! :3

Warning - Cuteness Overload

This was the second travel you and your Conjunx went for outside of Jasper. Being able to sit in the drivers seat and traveling for hours was one of your favorite things to do with the old Prime. The last time you were able to travel to the middle of Utah, but this time you and Optimus both agree to try and travel all the way up to the top of California. You grabbed a bunch of Chex mix and survival equipment to put in your giant suit case. Looking at your beef jerky, apples, and bottles of tea in your lunch box satisfied your brain into thinking this was a good amount for the first start of the trip. Observing the Prime's trailer and cleaning off the exterior, you help Optimus hook onto it and hoist yourself into the drivers seat. Optimus waits for you to be ready, which in response you give him a few pats on the door. He honks to tell everyone that he is leaving for a massive scout again and taking himself onto the main road. Looking at the GPS, you see that this travel was going to take 54 hours to complete which made you sigh, ready for the long travel.

… 2/54 hours …

It was nothing but peace and quiet for the drive until you hit traffic. It was a mile long, but thankfully the line was moving slowly. Trying to find some music on the radio, you find some nice country music and turn it up to a nice volume. Laying your head on the seat, you feel Optimus' spark slowing down and the heater turning on in the truck. You knew he liked this kind of music and giggled from the small reaction he probably was embarrassed to know you could feel.

… 12/54 hours …

Looking out the window and watching the corn fields pass you by was beautiful. It made you think about all the lives that people had passing by you on the roads. Knowing that some are driving to go see family, maybe a vacation, or just maybe going to the next town over for the grocery store. So many humans that Optimus can see, knowing that they are all alive and well boosts his moral. Seeing children in their car seats and people dancing to the radio, everyone was doing something that was important to their lives that the Prime would never interrupt. You see from your side of the window, a cow farm with what seemed to be more than 50 cows were grazing. Smiling from seeing all the cute beasts, you stick your head out and moo loudly at them. Optimus was very shocked and confused on what you were doing, but didn't ask any questions when he sees you waving out to all the cows you past. Sticking your head back in, you laugh and fix your messy hair from the horrible wind outside. Hearing you laugh put a smile on his face, knowing you were forgetting everything that was happening in Jasper.

… 22/54 hours …

The second bathroom break was happening. You were in a cold bathroom washing your face and hands. Going out of the bathroom to see the vending machines out was a nice way to see what kinds of snacks and drinks they could have. Reading all your options you pick one of your favorite snacks and also grabbing a coffee bottle out of the other machine. You were going to save the coffee in the mini cooler you had in the passenger seat for the morning, as it was around midnight. Walking out, you see Optimus waiting for you with the other semis. Opening the door and hopping in, you put the food in the cooler and close the lid. "Was everything ok?" Optimus quietly asks while you pull out your covers and pillow. "Yeah, the seat was really cold, but nothing bad happened. See you in the morning, dear." After saying that you hug yourself into the nice pillow, the whole seat being down and flat like a bed for you. Before you shut your eyes close you hear a little "Goodnight, my light."

… 31/54 hours …

Waking up and drinking your coffee was probably one of the best thinks you have felt in a long time; Looking out the window to see now that you are on the road passing a huge city in the far off lands. Looking back at the front, you see Optimus still going, but a bit slower. You pull out some energon patches and give him two on both doors. You hear the engine getting a little louder afterwards and he starts to speed up a bit. "I told you if you needed a break to wake me up." You hear a little hum noises at to motion that he is ok, making you shake your head. Cybertronians don't need to sleep as much as humans do, but goodness does Optimus need to relax after driving for so long already.

… 53/54 hours …

After a nap with Optimus in a parking lot, you both were able to safely make it into the city y'all were trying to get to. Looking at the time, you notice you both were almost there to the camping site. You grab a few things from your bag and start to eat your snacks and drinks before Optimus started to enter into the Californian country side.

… 54/54 hours …

You sprawl out the blankets and take the cooler out of Optimus's truck and set it down on the blanket. You lay yourself on the blanket and look up at the sky. Both of you were in a sunflower field. The field went for miles and the patch of grass you both found was in the exact middle of the whole thing. Prime transforms and stretches from all the driving. He walks away from you to get his legs moving and you were able to get some alone time to yourself while he got some movement. Closing your eyes you started to remember all the good memories you guys had together, the beautiful moments you both shared. The wind picks up and blows on your clothes, you feel a tear slowly going down your face. Such happy times, such a relaxing period. The base has gotten worse with everyone getting hurt and Megatron going to other areas that wasn't Jasper to get Optimus off his aft. Optimus needed some more love and not get more work on his back so you gave him an idea to bring you along on the scouting missions for long date trips.

You feel a giant shadow hovered your face as something is places all around you. Opening your eyes, you see that Optimus has placed a bunch of sunflowers all around your body. "Hehe! What are you doing Op?" You see him blushing a bit and staring into your eyes. "I thought the sunflowers looked beautiful…so I put them next to the other beautiful thing I have." He sees your eyes widen in shock, your face going red in the cheeks as tears start to fall immediately. Optimus panics and gets on all fours, getting close to your frame. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't know that was going to offend you!" He feels you place a hand on his face as lips connect with his. He gasps from the surprise kiss, but leans into it. He was so confused, why were you crying?! Why were you kissing him?! After the kiss he looks at your face and sees a soft smile. "…That was the most romantic thing I have ever heard." Loading the information you just gave him, Optimus smiles and lays down, putting his head gently on your lap. "Well, it's true, my light. You are very beautiful."

[jesterkoops]

I was re-reading this super long, 2-parter analysis of Chikhai Bardo and while I wouldn't go as far as OP in saying Mark and Gemma's was never true love (more on this later), or that it was all based on looks, I think it's a really good breakdown of the way I also perceived that episode and the reason why I'm so puzzled it seemed to have people suddenly romanticise their relationship and put it above everything and anything, forgetting 2 seasons of storytelling in its favour.

Putting this under a cut because it got way longer than I anticipated.

I think one reason why people are so touchy about any criticism or MarkGemma is that they embody the quintessential average heterosexual relationship and marriage. The relationship dynamic that more than any other is held as sacred in our society. To the point that I don't think people even pay attention to what is being shown because the moment you say "these two people are married and here is the montage of their story" they automatically project all those conditioned preconceived beliefs about what the relationship must be by virtue of being a marriage.

Never mind the statistics on divorce demonstrating that marriage doesn't automatically = some grand epic love. There is a reason half of relationships/marriages don't last and that is because they are often just build upon the motions of meet -> attraction -> date -> relationship -> marriage -> children (maybe), and don't withstand the impact with reality once it does hit. May the reality be life's hardships or discovering sides of the other person that the person smothered or downplayed in order to please and appeal to the partner during earlier stages in the relationship.

Which is exactly what we see in this episode. Like OP said, there's never any grand moment that makes you go "yes! these two are so made for each other!". It's all bland stuff that could be applied to any generic straight marriage out there. Granted, I don't think that you need one grand moment to cement a relationship as true love. I think this can be built upon small, every-day gestures, and by enduring difficulties and working through them together. I would go as far as to say that it isn't true that to tell a good story you necessarily need those epic romances; that there can be a good story in an everyday romance too. Everyday love, everyday pain, everyday struggles, can be compelling. To paraphrase what Dan said about what he likes about Markgemma, choosing to stick together when things get tough can make for a good story.

But that is kind of the point: sticking together is very different from growing together, or working things out together. Many people choose to 'stick together' and live unfulfilled marriages for the rest of their lives. And that is where their relationship was headed in this episode: Mark and Gemma weren't working through anything together. They were sticking together on paper while drifting apart on an emotional and human level.

One thing in particular that I find very off-putting about their dynamic is how as soon as things get difficult, Gemma is the one pining for attention and love from a distracted and uninterested Mark. Yes, she calls him out once about being an asshole, but for the most part she is just there waiting for his crumbs, and having to remind him to show her the affection she is showing him.

Having said that, and here is where I disagree with OP, I don't think Mark and Helly's is real love and Mark and Gemma's isn't. I think they both are real love, just different kinds of real love.

I think Mark and Helly's is the one that is build to last from the get go, simply because it is based on something that is just part of who they are as people that makes them not just compatible in terms of what they have in common (like their morbid sense of humour), but in terms of how their personality traits fit with the other like pieces of a puzzle and fill in the gaps the other is lacking: Mark is avoidant, but Helly is incredibly confrontational and doesn't let him get away with ignoring problems. She is IN HIS FACE like a dog with a bone whenever something is troubling them. And Helly is impulsive and destructive in that impulsiveness, but Mark is protective and knows how and when to throw water on that fire. He pays attention and is IN HER FACE whenever she tries to burn shit to the ground. What one needs to thrive is what the other is naturally inclined to provide.

Mark and Gemma's is the kind that isn't built to last from the get go, because its foundations are not based on nature, they're based on nurture - in this case the nurturing of society and the steps the average relationships goes through, with all the expectations that go with it. They are not innately made for each other, they have to work at it. It's the kind of love that can only last if both parties put an awful lot of work into it, because they don't complement each other in a way that comes natural to them. So, in a sense, this ordeal with Lumon might very well be the kick in the butt Mark and Gemma needed to sort their shit out. That it might make Mark realise what he had and took for granted, and truly make a change. It might make Gemma realise that she needs to hit him with a chair across the head when he acts like an asshole.

BUT.. and here comes the biggest but of all..

Mark created a version of himself that does not remember Gemma, never loved her, and now not only desperately loves someone else, not only is that someone the consciousness of the heir to the company that kept her in a basement for two years, but he has that "built do last" relationship with her. A relationship that is going through massive ordeals and is only growing stronger as a result. So now Mark might want to make all the changes in the world to be a better husband to Gemma, but not only he needs to put all the awful lot of work I mentioned above, but he needs to do it against the pull of THAT kind of relationship.

That is why I think the odds for their relationship aren't great. Not because they don't love each other, but because I don't know that it's a love that can withstand what's coming at them. Especially when it was already struggling to start with.

[chimielie]

cw: business major!down HORRIBLE!oliver x f!reader. a couple mentions of sex (obviously. it’s oliver). people who love each other just like a disturbing amount.

oliver doesn’t even know why he decided to go back to school.

he needs to have backup income someday, he reasons, if one of the other football freaks he grew up with decides to shoot him in the kneecap someday and he manages to spend all the money he’s made from being the best fucking player of all time. it has nothing to do with the two-year business degree your school offers, neatly solving the problem that had been created when you up and decided to move countries for graduate school.

the nerve of you, seriously.

he (and everyone else) had had his doubts about whether he’d stick to it, but it turns out university is really easy, or at least it is for him. most of his classes are online and his professors are all a little starstruck (thank god you would only go places with good football, good little girlfriend that you are), so he skates by on minimal effort.

the only exception is accounting. he sucks at accounting, but it’s mostly the professor’s fault because she’s actually evil. he swears she’s gotta be an isagi fan or something because she has it out for him. her class is so shitty he actually has to study for it.

oliver’s pretty sure he’s never studied in his life ever.

you are siding with the devil and insisting that he can’t just drop out right before his final semester, which is totally uncaring and callous by the way, so he’s stuck burning the midnight oil with printouts of financial statements and a headache like 40 kicking drills straight to the skull.

oliver stares at the statement of cash flows until the number start swimming before his eyes. he groans and drops his forehead to the kitchen table. you’re in bed already and he’s been stuck out here for hours. what the hell happened to him? he used to be a fuckboy and now he’s just letting you rest peacefully while he tortures himself calculating diluted earnings per share?

he won’t stand for this. he’s gonna get up and abandon his studying and when he inevitably fails his final, he’ll eat you out until you forget your name before he confesses so you don’t have the will to scold him for not being able to commit.

he likes this plan. he should start practicing that last part now, actually. it’s been a whole six hours and he’s starting to get the shakes—you’d tell him it was the four cups of coffee, but you’re not even a doctor yet.

as his chair scrapes the floor while he moves to get up, his phone screen lights up white-blue. a message from you reads you still up? we need to talk.

he knocks the chair over as he sprints to the bedroom, slamming open the door.

“what?”

“oh, hey, baby,” you say, your gorgeous face illuminated by your phone. your eyes are half-closed, puffy with sleep, but you’re smiling the same as you always do when you see him. his heart drops to his stomach. how long has he been mistaking this mask for fondness? how long has he been fooling himself for your love?

“what do you mean you want to talk?” he says, hovering awkwardly next to the bed. he wants to grab you and stop you from whatever you’re about to say. he wants to apologize but he knows that starting in when he doesn’t even know what he did is wrong.

a little anger creeps in. he doesn’t even know what he did!

whatever it is, you’re probably right. he folds his arms tightly over his chest against the thought.

“i just wanted to wish you good luck on your exam,” you say, putting down your phone and sitting up on your knees, stretching up to put your hands on his shoulders and kiss his lips lightly. “i heard you giving up out there,” your grin is demonic. “thought i’d shock you awake.”

oliver stands there, dumbfounded. you take the opportunity to slide your hands to the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair while you wait for him to process.

“you are evil,” he accuses. “and i love you very much and i remember now why i let you trick me into settling down and stalking you internationally.”

“love you too, baby,” you hum against his lips. he has enough presence of mind to reciprocate now, putting his big hands on you, sliding one up your shirt, finding solace the longer he kisses you.

“have they given you your degree in psychology yet?” he asks, smirking a little at your dazed expression. yeah, he can totally still knock you off your feet. he adjusts the plan in his head a little: he’ll ace the exam and then you’ll reward him by letting him eat you out until you forget your name. he congratulates himself on this incredible idea silently. “you could seriously write a thesis on manipulating and torturing me.”

“yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, sinking back into the bed. “go kick some ass on your final.”

he salutes you on his way out, flipping on the lights so you’ll have to get out from under the covers if you want to sleep. a guy’s gotta have a little revenge, he thinks.

“oli!” you call after him. he pauses, turns around. you collide with his chest, sliding on the hardwood floor in fuzzy socks. “you know i’ll be proud of you no matter how you do. it’s, like, insane that you’re even trying.”

his heart melts. he rocks you back and forth slightly, squeezing you into his chest.

“i know,” oliver grins. “don’t be stupid.”

[amirsnothere]

Found Home

Bucky X Reader

A/N - Just like everyone else, I watched Thunderbolts and I'm back on my Marvel loving shit. It's been a few years, but I'm excited to be back in it! I definitely had to take time to revisit all the Bucky content in preparation for this series though! Right now, the series is intended to be timeless, but I personally sorta picture it being before/around FATWS timeframe.

The first part is set in Bucky's POV, but all the rest of the parts will be Reader POV

Series Warnings: slow-burn, swearing, shouting, slight violence, pregnant reader (with another man's baby), Bucky's trauma, reader has trauma, mentions of verbal & physical abuse (let me know if there's more!)

Summary: Bucky has loud neighbors. One day he decides to pay them a visit.

Word Count: 695 (following parts will be longer)

Pt 1 Pt 2

Bucky minded his own business. After everything, he had earned his peace. Or what semblance of peace he could get.

The nightmares hadn't stopped, everyone who may have once loved him was dead. But he had a consistent place to call "home" at night, and he even had a regular visitor at the bird house he had attached to the dining room window. The bird house was a gift from Sam, a man Bucky thought he might consider as a friend, he said to remember him by. Three solid wood walls, the fourth replaced by the window itself, allowed Bucky to see anytime he had a visitor.

Bucky had named his little bird friend "Sam Junior" in his memoriam. When Sam heard, he protested, but he was laughing the whole time he begged Bucky to change it. After a bit of bribery, Sam was able to convince him to just to call the bird SJ, so that no one would know that his entire legacy lay in a cardinal.

The occasional visit from SJ to his window often felt like the best of sense of "home" Bucky had had in a very long time. Unfortunately, SJ didn't stick around for long when the yelling was happening.

Bucky didn't want to get involved in other people's problems. Hadn't his own parents had the occasional fight? Well, when he moved in, maybe it was just occasional, but since then, the fighting became more frequent, and much harder to ignore.

Bucky saw the women who lived next door almost every day. She usually left for work around the time he went on his morning run. They'd often walk down the stairs together, sometimes commenting on the landlord's ridiculous new policies, or making small talk about the weather. Bucky noticed she seemed to always run cold - whether it was raining, snowing, or 90° out, she always wore a sweater. He couldn't help but be impressed by her collection.

When she came home from work, he was often making his own way back from errands or meetings or whatever else he did to occupy his time. They'd walk back up the creaky stairs together and he'd listen as she mentioned the latest gossip from her job or what she planned to make for dinner. Sometimes they ran into each other outside of this predictable routine - maybe he would offer to help carry her groceries - she would always politely decline.

He almost never saw her partner. Bucky heard his loud, usually angry, voice frequently enough, that he knew the man still lived there. The ring on her finger suggested she was at least engaged, if not married, but he wished she would just dump the guy already. He sounded like a bully at best.

But Bucky really was trying to mind his own business, and if it was anyone's place to bring up their concerns, her ex-assassin neighbor certainly wouldn't be at the top of the list. Sometimes after a bad night, he would really consider saying something more forward to her, but the look in her eyes and the sharp corners of her smile warned him not to. So he stuck to talking about the weather.

Bucky could hear the yelling from outside of the building when he got home later one evening. Usually, he would just hear the man shouting at the woman. Occasionally she would let out an exhausted cry of protest, but it normally just sounded like a the typical argument she had likely grown used to losing.

As Bucky climbed the stairs to his floor, a deep feeling settled in him. Something about tonight did not feel normal. Reaching his floor, he paused, clenching the handrail until it started to warp under his grip.

Bucky was used to the man sounding angry. Somehow the word "furious" seemed more fitting now. She usually sounded frustrated. Now, he couldn't help but hear fear.

Bucky took a deep breath, a deep strech in his chest as he tried to steady his exhale. He flexed his fingers as he let go of the handrail. So much for minding his own business.

He walked up to the neighbors’ door and knocked.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

reader and daeho having sex for the first time with eachother but the condoms on readers house are to small for him so they both have to go to a store to get condoms his size🙈

please give daeho the closets to his canon sg personality all bubbly and shy and sweet and just daeho!!!

💗 “Size Matters”

pairing: reader × Dae-ho rating: 🔥 NSFW (18+)

| smut, fluff, awkward sweet tension tags: first time, size kink (soft), condom mishap, shy!Daeho, established relationship, reader-insert (fem), pure chaos, hot sweetness word count: ~1.9k

warnings: smut, fluff, Daeho being a shy king with a very not-shy dick, mild cursing, public embarrassment (condom shopping lol)

You hadn’t exactly planned on having sex tonight. But with Daeho? Planning never seemed to stick.

It started with cuddling—innocent enough. His oversized hoodie had somehow ended up bunched at his chest, and his thighs were tangled with yours beneath your comforter, all soft warmth and quiet giggles. One kiss turned into five. His fingers brushed your hip under your shirt and then suddenly—

You were both breathless, horny, and very naked on your bed.

And that’s when it happened.

You reached for the little drawer next to your bed, fishing out the little box of condoms you hadn’t touched in… way too long.

“Found ’em,” you said, turning over to him with a triumphant smile.

But Daeho was staring at the foil packet like it had personally offended him.

“Um,” he said quietly, cheeks going cherry blossom pink. “That’s… not gonna fit.”

You blinked. “What?”

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting anywhere but your face. “It’s… um… I need… bigger.”

You looked down.

Then really looked down.

“Oh.”

It was curved a little upward, heavy and flushed. Little drops of Pre already making their way down his shaft.

And it was definitely, undeniably, too big for the condoms in your drawer.

“Oh,” you said again, blinking.

“I’m sorry!” Daeho squeaked, clearly mortified. “I-I should’ve brought my own—I just didn’t think, and you had a box, and I didn’t mean to like brag or anything, I swear I’m not—”

You kissed him quiet.

“You’re fine. You’re perfect,” you whispered against his lips, fingers trailing down his flushed chest. “But… we do need something that won’t snap the second you get hard.”

He groaned, burying his face in your neck. “This is the worst kind of sexy problem.”

“Correction,” you teased. “This is the cutest kind of sexy problem.”

He laughed. Nervous. Sweet. Still very hard.

You kissed the tip of his nose. “Come on. We’re going shopping.”

The drugstore was mostly empty, thank god.

Daeho was wearing one of your hoodies and jogging bottoms, doing everything he could to look casual. It didn’t help that every time you glanced at him, you could see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric.

The aisle was too quiet. The neon sign above the “Family Planning” section buzzed.

“This is hell,” he muttered, crouching in front of the shelf like it might attack him.

You giggled. “They’re just boxes.”

“Boxes that say XXL in the largest font possible.”

“Which you need.”

“That’s not the point!”

You knelt next to him, scanning the options. “Okay… ribbed, ultra-thin, fire-and-ice—”

“No,” he said quickly. “That one burns.”

Your head whipped toward him. “You’ve used it?!”

“I didn’t know! It was an accident!!” he whispered, scandalized. “I cried in the shower for like 40 minutes.”

You were howling, wheezing with laughter in the middle of the store, while Daeho tried to die behind a shelf of lube.

Eventually, you grabbed a sleek black box labeled “XL + Comfort Fit”, pressing it into his hands.

“Perfect,” you said, leaning in with a smirk. “Now we can go home… and test them out.”

He went red from his ears to his chest.

“I need to hydrate,” he whispered dramatically. “And maybe do yoga. And mentally prepare.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, already walking toward checkout. “You’ll be too busy moaning to overthink.”

You barely made it to the bedroom.

He had you pinned to the wall, kissing you like his life depended on it, that XXL box clutched tightly in one hand.

Once you were on the bed again, Daeho knelt between your thighs, fumbling with the foil packet.

“Sorry—shit—my hands are—uh—nervous—”

You took it from him gently, rolling the condom down over his length with both hands.

He shuddered. Visibly.

“Oh my god, that fits so much better,” he whispered.

“Told you.”

He lined up, pausing just to breathe against your throat.

“You sure?”

You pulled him in with your legs. “Please.”

And when he slid in?

You felt every inch.

Thick, slow, deep—and so careful. He was blushing and panting and trying not to break you, even though your nails were already digging into his shoulders.

“F-fuck—” he whimpered. “You feel like heaven—I’m not gonna last—”

You kissed him again, full of giggles and need. “That’s okay. You’ve got a whole box.”