#s7 fic

[redwinterroses]

I know a lot of times we work out the "everyone has to start from scratch at the beginning of the season" in fic with like, "you can't take anything from the old world with you/only a few special things in your ender chest" etc... But I also love the idea of hermits with just... old stuff. Grian wearing an old Mumbo For Mayor shirt that's a little sweatstained and faded while he's doing the grunt work of sorting all his stuff into the new storage building. Cub flipping through albums of polaroids of all his old bases. Beef hanging framed album covers on the walls of his base. Pearl sifting through a little trinket box that hold things like "a rock from that hole where Gem and I first spawned in" and a miniature jackolantern that still glimmers a little bit, even if the enchantment is flaking off in places. Tango's bunny slippers getting worn out holes in the heels and he just patches them because they're too cozy to get rid of. Impulse still probably has a box of test candy bars laying around somewhere and every time he finds them again he makes note to get rid of them because there's no way they're still any good but he always forgets.

Just. Old stuff.

[thatbuddie]

*apollo red ball gift of prophecy christmas elf etc etc*

[m4rs-ex3]

i am so obsessed with the fact that out of everyone, runaan is the one who is so fucking Done

i can literally hear him thinking "yeah i've gathered. the walls in this house are only so thick."

[killjoy-prince]

House M.D. but it's when Wilson says House's name

[kpchrs]

Anyway, Buffy used to be an "I'll die for you" girlie but then she became an "I'll live for you" girlie, if you care.

[watchyourbuck]

The thing about Tommy is that he’s very pretty. Everything about him is intoxicatingly attractive, and no matter where they go, people follow. Men, particularly.

Buck isn’t necessarily the jealous type. He’s had his fair share of protecting ex girlfriends from creeps and dudes who won’t back off, but this is different. This feels like a constant, extremely symptomatic migraine.

Of course girls throw themselves at him, but the mere fact that they have no chance makes it less angering. It’s the studs, and the twinks, and the huge men who put their hands on his man. That cup his ass almost as a greeting gesture. That play with his hair, and whisper in his ear.

And Tommy isn’t stupid. He knows he’s being flirted with, but since he could never have eyes for anyone who isn’t Buck, he doesn’t see the need to be rude. So he keeps it at ‘No, thank you’’s, and polite, refusing smiles. And yes, that’s yet another one of the qualities Buck loves about him. Because he doesn’t like violence. But then again, it fires up the unwavering possessiveness brewing in the pit of his stomach.

So Buck’s gotten creative. Now that they’re officially a couple, and go out on dates every weekend — to different places, if he might add —, he’s had to get handy with the way he lets people know Tommy’s his.

He orders with him at the bar, makes sure to say ‘my boyfriend’ and strategically places his hands on parts of Tommy’s body that would get him punched if they weren’t together. It works, for the most part.

But there’s always that one guy who can’t take a hint.

“You’re like a Greek god,” he whispers and Buck rolls his eyes. “Greek gods shouldn’t be alone.”

It’s a twenty-something year old dude that looks like he’s missing a college class. He’s wearing a tank top and eyeliner and he’s about a second away from earning himself all of Buck’s un-contained rage.

“I’m not alone,” Tommy says, pointing at him, and god bless his heart. “This is my partner.”

Buck bends forward a bit to wave enthusiastically, but it comes out bitchy. He’s almost sorry but then the guy barely acknowledges him, putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and rubbing circles on the exposed skin. Tommy’s hand tightens on his hip, keeping him still.

“You know, I’m very flexible,” the guy says and Buck is currently making a deal with god to grant him patience. “I could show you just how much.”

“Oh, you’re not showing him anything,” Buck barks, right from over Tommy’s head. If he has to get on his tippy toes to do that, well, the other guy doesn’t have to know.

“Evan,” Tommy warns, but it’s endearing, it carries no threat. He turns his head to the kid and tilts it. “You should find a guy who’s interested. I’m not.”

Buck absolutely preens, a cocky smirk settling on his face. He’s about to claim victory when he notices the guy’s demeanor doesn’t change, and he actually steps closer. “That’s because you don’t know what you’re missing, daddy.”

Nope. A surge of something primal and almost maniac courses through his body, and before Tommy can do anything about it, Buck’s rounding him and taking the guy’s wrist and squeezing it. He’s shorter than Tommy but significantly bigger than this kid, so he towers over him easily. “Take your hands off him if you want to keep them.”

The kid’s face contorts in fear. “What’s your problem, dude!”

Buck laughs, his only point of connection to reality being Tommy’s hand on his belt loops, holding him in place. “My problem,” he says, his voice deeper, “is that you can’t seem to take no for an answer. He’s told you he’s not alone. So, back off before I make you.”

His eyes shift from Buck’s to Tommy’s, who Buck can only guess has a soft but unreadable expression on his face. When the kid isn’t defended by Tommy, he snags his hand back, scoffs and takes off.

Buck watches him until he loses him to the crowd, then lets out a big breath, closing his eyes momentarily. He turns to Tommy, expecting to find judgy or at least annoyed eyes. He doesn’t.

“Not that I wanna encourage you,” Tommy says, sitting on a stool to pull Buck closer, right between his legs. “But that was really hot.”

Buck huffs out a laugh but it’s vaguely one. “I’m just— he wouldn’t stop touching you. You’re, ugh, you’re—!”

Tommy tilts his head, chasing after Buck’s gaze when he looks to the side. “You can say it.”

Buck bites his lip and stares. How could he not, after all. “You’re mine,” de declares, definitive and on the verge of angry. “And I don’t like men touching what’s mine.”

And he knows. There’s a fine line between sexy possessive and psychopathically controlling, and he’s walking it like a rope between two buildings, but the look on Tommy’s face and the unmistakable sight of the front of his pants growing tighter doesn’t help him get off the high horse. “We can always make a scene,” Tommy shrugs, getting up again and cornering Buck against the bar.

Buck’s eyes darken, even through the pain on his tailbone. His arms surge forward to wrap around Tommy’s neck and bring him down. And if they do make a scene, if they do make out messily and desperately for everyone to see, then it’s truly not his problem what they think. As long as they know who Tommy belongs to.

[creamyduckie]

i depend on you, keith.

i'm not worth your time, lance.

KLANCE IN THE YEAR 2025? IT MAY BE LIKELY

[russell-crowe]

house and wilson seeing each other for the first time in months in s08e02

[raayllum]

They share her flying steed on the way back to the Banther Lodge, his limbs still sluggish and eyes burning. Callum knows, also, that Rayla is keeping an eye on his breathing. Kosmo had said the darkness and corruption would overwhelm him, but... maybe the spell was too small? Or maybe it would take him over slowly, but...

He rests his head against her shoulder blades and dozes as much as he dares to avoid falling off.

Eventually, they take a break near the fringes of the Moonshadow forest to make camp, and she helps him down with a steady arm braced along his back. "Careful, there," she teases, gentle and warm, but a shadow of guilt flickers in her eyes.

He holds onto her turn and lets them sink to a sitting position in the soft grass.

Soren takes one look, then peels away with an overly cheery tone, "We should go foraging! In the forest! Hey, who do you think can get the most berries?" and then herds everyone else away.

Runaan gives him a lingering look, and then follows the rest; he and Ethari will go to return to the Silvergrove soon without them.

Then Callum stares at Rayla and waits, till her lips twist and she sniffles, her voice all wobbly and small as she begins, "Callum—"

He places his hand over hers. "Thank you. For having my back in there."

She stares back at him, tears in her eyes. "How can you say that? I was going to—"

"—do what I asked you to do," he says firmly, giving her fingers—the same fingers that had drawn back the arrow that would've taken his life—a squeeze before he cups her face. He traces her indigo marking, brushing away tears as he does so. "I needed you to back me up. I needed you to trust me. To do the right thing." Even as he did the wrong thing, of sorts. "Thank you."

She lets out a sob and throws her arms around his neck; Callum holds her while she shakes and cries, some of his own tears and adrenaline seeping out of him. Fuck, he'd been so tired and so scared and so...

He can feel her heart beating through her chest. Her heart for Xadia. Him, for Xadia, and—

He holds her tighter. "We'll figure something else out, before he comes back. We have time."

Seven years and nineteen (seventeen now?) days. He'll make each one of them count.

I don't want to be separated again.

"You were willing to do what you had to do," he says softly, rubbing her back. However the corruption works, he is corrupted, and that means, when Aaravos comes back, he'll be able to... "Because that's who you are, selfless, brave, and I love you for it. I depend on you for it. And now we can figure out how to do what we want to do... To make sure you're stuck with me."

She hiccups, her tearful laugh still more of a sob, but her eyes are brighter when she pulls back to look at him and wipes away some of his own tears, her thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. "Do you promise?" she says, whatever levity she's mustered up flickering this time too.

He holds her hand and kisses her palm and fingers. With enough time, they can make anything work—finding her and him again after her return had made that clear. Seven years will have to be enough.

"Yes," he swears. "I do."

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

i'm here with the door wide open | buddie | rated teen and up | 24k | read on ao3

Eddie eats and showers and puts on clothes. He goes to work, does his job, acts as fine as he can around his friends, attends therapy twice a week, and goes back home.

Day after day after day.

And it’s so fucking quiet.

or, eddie copes with the absence of chris but also the presence of buck

read on ao3

[fictiongods]

It’s so interesting to me that any s7 fuffy fic you’ll read (that takes place in Sunnydale still and isn’t an au that is) will tell you that Faith slept in Buffy’s basement on a cot and it’s funny cause like, they’ll all tell you that yet she definitely didn’t. Spike was down there and then he was down there with Buffy, so unless Faith slept at the end of the cot like a dog…actually you know what. Never mind I like this better. But no actually the only place we know she slept in was BUFFYS BED. So I leave you with that thanks

[jelzorz]

You don't need to of course. But I would love for some kind of continuation to 205. It's so lovely!

205b.

Callum is thrilled, of course.

It'd been the middle of Yule when Rayla told him, and she'd been so nervous, so scared of what it would mean for them and all their plans, but to Callum, it hadn't mattered. It still doesn't. He loves her, and he loves the child in her belly already, whoever they are and will be, and she's how many months along now? Six? Seven? Only a couple more months to go, which only makes Callum all the more excited—

And all the more terrified at the same time.

He copes by throwing himself into his work. Being High Mage these days is about maximising the harvests and finding creative solutions to little problems: broken carts and injured donkeys and good winds for travel, but there's the other thing, too: the thing that weighs heavily on his back and in his pocket, the blank coin that he clings to as a last resort.

The days feel numbered. Every night, he looks at the sky and wonders which star is Aaravos, which one will come crashing back to earth to seeking revenge on them all. Callum draws up plans upon plans upon plans. He wrangles Ezran and Opeli into writing and signing contracts with the other kingdoms who promise to provide aid if they need it. He has Soren and Corvus and Terry out every couple of weeks with their ears to the ground, watching for any signs of Aaravos or Claudia on the wind.

He holds Rayla tighter every night.

"You need sleep," she says one evening. It's dark outside and Callum winces at the sky, the stars winking sadistically at him through the tower window.

He scowls. "What I need is to keep you safe. Both of you."

Rayla makes a face at him. "We're safe now, Callum. Aaravos isn't here—"

"Yet."

"And you're missing this. Us. The wee one in here." She takes his hand, easing his quill from it to rest his fingers on her belly. The child in it shifts under his touch, and Callum's breath stills, marvelling once more at the miracle of it. Of his wife and child.

He breathes out. "Sorry," he murmurs. "I'm just... scared."

"I know you are," says Rayla quietly. "I am too. But we'll worry about that when we need to, okay? Right now, we need you here."

Callum sighs, but he lets Rayla draw him out of his chair and into their quarters, allows her to distract him with the softness of her lips and the warmth of her touch, determined to forget the ever present weight of the coin in his pocket.

They are safe now, he tells himself. They are whole. And if and when Aaravos becomes a problem... he'll keep them safe then, too.

He would do anything for them, after all.

However dangerous. However vile.

[m4rs-ex3]

i love how much chiller and more comfortable she's gotten when sleeping, but also how they show that that instinct hasn't just gone away

[killjoy-prince]

House M.D. but it's when House says Wilson's name