#sorry for the wait on things and absence in general

[7roaches]

prev post has me thinking abt the common phenomenon of ppl who create following a line of thinking that there must be some level of misery present to adequately create. which also leads into the line of thinking that if you lose the misery u’ll lose your spark too. e.g. artists fearing losing their motivation, writers fearing losing their inspiration, comedians fearing losing their funny, etc etc…

[likelysobbing]

walk with me now, juju and her gf arguing because juju hasn’t been around lately and reader gets tired of it, and they’ve been ignoring each since so to get her mind off of things her bsf takes her out to a party or smth, juju finds out and is mad because reader didn’t tell her where she was going, and a other stuff but idk what

𖥻 COLD COUCH. juju watkins x reader

reblogs + comments are more appreciated than likes.

synopsis: juju’s absence leaves nothing but a cold couch you wake up to and a hole in your heart that you try to fill—lucky for you, your girlfriend has common sense.

notes: hi lovely! i’m so sorry i got to this request so late, i thank you for your patience. juju and the reader don’t necessarily ignore eachother for long, but they definitely don’t speak for long enough to be concerned!!! this all happens in the span of one day because me thinks juju would never leave you with a heavy heart for too long… unless it’s toxic juju. but this isn’t toxic juju nonono … but anyways !!! i did my best to make your vision come true and i hope you enjoy it <3

cw: arguing, juju is a tiny bit conceited but guys she’s a celebrity, partying, reader drinks alcohol but not to the point it’s detrimental, kind of fast paced because i’m using dividers, reader and juju are both down bad in their own ways

juju has shit to do.

it can’t be helped, and you know that. she’s juju watkins— the face of women’s collegiate basketball, with multiple awards to show for it. but juju, in all ten months and fourteen days of being your girlfriend, has never once missed a date. she made sure to make time for you, always showing up and going an extra mile: flowers, ironed outfits, an extra clean car even though it’s already clean, and most of all—the biggest smile on her face. you loved that part the most; the telling sign she was happy to see you, to spend time with you, to relax.

you haven’t seen that smile in a while. that’s usually what occurs when you date a D1 athlete with like 20 NIL deals.

you haven’t seen that smile in a long time.

you thought you would be able to. you had texted juju two weeks ahead of time telling her to keep herself free today, tonight, and you had tore the internet apart finding the best recipes—subsequently ending up with a splitting headache from looking at the directions too much to make sure you followed them perfectly. perfect; that’s what you wanted this night to be. you’d greet juju with a kiss to her cheek and a tight hug, then you’d eat dinner, then you’d watch a movie, you’d cuddle— juju would fall asleep first, hopefully, and then you’d steal her hoodie because she always took off her hoodies whenever she wanted to cuddle with you. she’d pretend she didn’t know you stole it, and she’d leave the next morning feeling lighter in more ways than one. the first because she didn't have her hoodie on, and the second because you soothed her enough to, for once, just stay in the present.

you hoped you’d be able to bring her the peace you knew she deserved. you set up the table, and even had the blankets and pillows all ready. infact? netflix’s searchbar was already waiting—and as you plated juju’s portion of the dinner you hoped you cooked right, the only thing you were waiting for was juju.

juju, who should’ve been here by now.

did she get caught up in traffic? she should’ve texted about that. she hasn’t texted you at all today.

she hasn’t texted you a lot in general these past few weeks.

you sit on the edge of your kitchen counter despite the chair you already pulled out being right infront of you, because a part of you— your heart—does not want to sit alone. you scroll through your phone absentmindedly, until a notification snaps you out of your zone. it’s juju.

juju posted something on her story—another common mainstream logo in your face directly confirming it’s some sort of brand deal— and... wait, why would she be posting about brand deals? isn’t she supposed to be on her way to you right now? she said she’d be able to make it.

you search for answers.

you find out it wasn’t just a brand deal, but a brand trip. juju’s not even in the same area code as you right now. juju’s away.

you call her the moment that it clicks.

the phone rings for way too long, and you count the seventh ring before she picks up with an exasperated, “what? what is it?”

you don’t speak.

she repeats your name, impossibly more exasperated: “what is it? i’m on a cruise right now—“

“your food is cold.” you say, simply. there is silence on the other line and you don’t know if it is from realization and subsequent guilt, or complete and utter apathy. you don’t want it to be the latter. you don’t speak any more.

judea’s voice comes out on the other end of the line. it’s slow, low, and barely apologetic. “i had a last minute offer.”

“and you didn’t think to tell them you weren’t free today? tonight? because you would be— or you were meant to be having dinner with your girlfriend?” you reply, snappy, your sweaty hand gripping your already-heating-up phone too tight. you’re exasperated, obviously. you saw juju mark this date on her calendar app— she had it labelled ‘date with my baby’ with three exclamation marks. god forbid you believe she’s genuinely eager to see you.

you hear her click her tongue on the other line. “i warned you about shit like this,” she responds, her tone more angry than exasperated—more uncaring than the (barely) apologetic tone you previously heard.

“i scheduled this with you two weeks in advance, ju,” you countered, “don’t give me that excuse. don’t- don’t even give me excuses.” you choke on your words, simultaneously choking on your own pride. you wait. she speaks again, and it’s another excuse.

you go back and forth.

“i just haven’t seen you in a while, and i missed you,” you say,

“i’ve been busy, you know how it is,” she replies,

“but you promised you’d be able to make it.”

“see now, i didn’t promise—“

“you said you’d be able to make it, juju.” you interrupt.

“yeah, and i just got … sidetracked.”

sidetracked?

sidetracked?

“what do you mean?” you ask.

“you know what i mean, ma,” she murmured,

“no. i don’t. you said you could come last week— but now you’re not even here because of a last minute offer. am i being put to the side now?” your response is curt, and by now, things get noticeably more tense.

“god, can you stop doing that?” juju says on the other end.

“doing what? i’m just saying the truth—“ you tried to reason, because— side tracked? did she mean she put you on the sidelines? what did she mean? more importantly, what else could she possibly mean?

“it’s not always about you.” juju says, finally.

she’s right, and you say so.

“you’re right,” you say, voice breaking. “it’s not always about me. that’s why i haven’t been texting that much, or asking to hang out,” you begin, “or asking for too much,” there’s a lump in your throat, and a crack in your heart, but you press on. “because i know you’ve been busy. but juju, you said you’d be—“

“and now i can’t.” her voice cuts, her tone cutting. juju isn’t yelling, but her voice is low and outright cruel when she says your name— she says it as if it disgusts her to say, and when you hear her on the other end, your ears start to ring.

“i’m a fucking celebrity,” she continues, “i can’t be at your beck and call immediately when you say,”

“that’s why i scheduled you two weeks in—“ you tried to interrupt,

“yeah, and this brand's been eyeing me for way longer—come on, i couldn’t flake out on a deal like this. they asked for whenever i was available, and tonight was really the only night because it was just you—“

you end the call.

it’s just you, she says. it’s just you. juju obviously doesn’t want your company, doesn’t she?

it can be just her now.

you eat your plate alone. it’s still warm, but that doesn’t mean it’s good; the call with juju left a bad taste in your mouth. now juju’s plate is in the fridge labelled as leftovers you’ll probably never eat. you remove the extra pillow from your couch and use both blankets for yourself, playing another episode of your favorite show, tuning out the entire night despite hoping with all of your heart that you’ll have missed calls and texts from juju when you next check your phone.

you feel the lump in your throat still. you swallow it.

you wake up in the morning on the same couch, and you shiver at how cold it is. juju usually brought you the warmth.

you check your phone and you can’t swallow the lump anymore.

there are no notifications. your friend, bree, texted you about some party and how all her ‘fyne shyts’ were coming, but you could barely read the rest of the text because of how blurry your eyes were.

there were no calls. there were no texts.

not from her.

there was only silence, and it sent you into a spiral.

bree opens the door with the extra house key you gave her and a single knock to see you slumped across your couch completely and utterly miserable. you look at her, and she looks at you—bree, psychology major, miss know it all, looks at you and instantly knows.

“trouble in paradise?”

you burst into tears. bree’s kitten heels clack on your floor as she sits next to you and places your head in her lap, urging you to vent it out. “it’s good to get stuff like this out, hun,” she murmurs, “i’m saying this as a future therapist.”

you, three minutes into your wailing, will yourself to calm down for a moment— usually, when bree says that, it means she has something else to say, but “as my friend?”

your hunch is correct. bree tilts her head and looks down at your very miserable form curled up into a fetal position. “i say we get wasted tonight.”

“okay.”

that’s how you’re here now.

the bass is booming in your ears, and usually you’d leave solely because it’d make your head hurt—but right now, your heart hurts more. you could care less about the head ache you know you’ll get. you’re free right now. your phone’s charged, your arm is entwined with bree’s, and with every click of your heels you grow livelier. eyes flutter towards you by instinct, and they stay on you—you’re not wearing anything given to you by juju. this is your dress, these are your heels, and this is your jewelry— everyone seems to get the message.

tonight, you speak for yourself.

you’re bound to judea, but she isn’t pulling her leash, so you’ll stray. you’ll stray far, until she either lets go or you choke yourself.

bree looks at you with a soft smile, and tells you to drink safe knowing you’ll get absolutely knackered whether or not you drink. she pinky promises not to separate from you.

the gods may not have blessed you with a good week, but they’ve blessed you with a good friend.

she keeps the promise.

three hours in, and your heels are already off and in your hands, and you’re three drinks in, and you’re dancing, and bree has her arm around you and is singing the lyrics to the hollywood undead song playing. you are on top of the world but the ache has not subsided.

you’re sober enough to know you can’t drink the ache away.

so you choose to dance longer.

until your feet ache even more than your head, and your head aches more than your heart— until your legs are numb and your right hand is tired from holding your heels. but somehow, the ache, as small as it should be, is still the one you feel the most.

you don’t stop dancing.

the police crash through the back door.

you run straight for the front, with bree hot on your heel, and an unfinished cup of coca-cola and… something mixed into it, and your heels. the ice in the glass cup is melted so you throw it into the patch of grass near you. bree ends up more wasted than you are, and she, giggly, says that you watered the plants. you have no idea how she saw water in your cup when it was legit an abyss of dark brown... you know, the coca cola color? but maybe that’s why she’s more drunk than you.

the campus is not far from this party. you don’t mind walking barefoot. bree can crash at your place tonight, you owe her this much.

you are so focused on looking forward, as if there is any hope left for you, and keeping bree steady, that you don’t really pay attention to the fact that there’s a car coming up right behind you, who probably went over the speed limit just to. you also don’t notice when the car lowers it’s passenger seat window.

but you do notice when juju yells your name from the drivers seat.

your head whips around so fast you nearly drop bree, who’s taken to being slung across your shoulder. “what the fuc— juju? juju, it’s—“

“yeah, yeah i do know what time it is, genius. get in the goddamn car.” she snaps, unlocking the door as you open the backseat to gently place bree in. you get into the passengers seat next to juju.

she looks worried sick.

it’s three minutes into the car ride when the lyft that juju apparently called, and paid, for bree whisks her away from the two of you—and it’s four minutes in that you stay in complete silence out of your own shock.

in the empty car, as you drive to what you recognize is not the way to your dormitory but to juju’s apartment— you muster up the courage to break it.

“how are you here?” your voice is soft.

juju doesn’t answer for a good while, but when she does, her voice is impossibly softer.

“i have your location.”

“that's not what i meant. i thought you still had the brand trip.”

“i left early.”

“what?” you say, incredulously. juju doesn’t say anything. she parks, and then she gets out of the car—and before you can even open your door, she’s already helping you out. as you walk? you pry for answers.

“juju, i don’t think you can do that—“

“i’m a celebrity, i can do .. basically? anything.”

“juju.” you scoff. “you’re not serious. it’s just me—“

“it’s not.” juju interrupts this time, so firm it makes you lose your track of mind— her hand, once wrapped around your wrist, lowers itself and softens its grip. it intertwines with your fingers. “it’s not just you.” she repeats, visibly regretting her choices of words last night. “it’s you. you get it?”

“truthfully, no.”

“bro—I,” juju stutters, chokes even, on her own words, fumbling like she’s fumbling with the keys to her apartment right now—“i mean that…” she restarts, “i mean that i’m sorry, okay?”

you stand still in your pretty dress and high heels. you stand frozen until she pulls you in. she closes the door and she takes your face into her hands, and her palms are warm, and she is warm.

warmth. that’s what you were missing.

the ache disappears.

and then you start crying.

“you’re such a fucking asshole sometimes.”

“oh, baby,” juju immediately coos. “i know,” she says, pulling you into her chest, her right hand stroking your head while her left hand pulls you in close by the waist. “i’m sorry.” she whispers. “i’m so sorry, baby. i wasn’t thinking. i’m sorry. i got my common sense back, yeah? i’m here now. i’m here, baby—please don’t cry.” she whispers. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” she repeats, sinking down to the floor with you—“i got you gifts, ma?” she offers. “got you so many gifts.”

“i just wanted you.” you say through a rather pathetic voice crack.

it only makes juju even more apologetic.

“i’m so fucking sorry baby. i’ll make it up to you, okay? i’ll make it up to you. come onn, prettiest girl—“ she whispers, kissing your temple, smoothing down your hair and getting it out of your face. you finally look up, still mad but not able to resist her—and you breath a shaky sigh.

“there she is,” juju says anyway, because the fact you’re looking at her is progress. “my girl.” she continues, “my girl who set up a whole dinner for me, set it all up for me, my girl who worked so hard— my girl who missed me s’much—shhh, baby, i’m here, i’m here,”

you find yourself squeezing tighter. she’s here now. that’s all you've really wanted.

she ends up cleaning you up, putting you in what she knows is your favorite hoodie (hers), carrying you, bridal style, to her couch—wraps you up in a little blanket burrito and places you on her chest where she can kiss your forehead easy. this time, she has netflix opened and ready—and she knows exactly what to have you guys watch: your favorite show that you’ve watched over seventy times, but can’t seem to get tired of.

your eyes are blown wide, focused entirely on snuggling into her hoodie and at the show you’re watching, and you’re too lost in your own post-party, post-argument, post-bad week bliss that you don’t notice juju spends every second looking at you.

you just know that it’s warm.

her hands are wrapped around you, and she’s so warm. and she’s saying sorry. and her voice is soft and it makes you sleepy.

so you close your eyes, and you start to fall harder for her, and simultaneously start to fall asleep.

there is no ache anymore. and you know it is not okay yet, but it will be.

but for now, the awareness that you will not wake up to a cold, empty couch—that's enough.

@likelysobbing.

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Part IX

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V Part VI Slowly We Unfurl (companion piece) Hold on to the Thread (companion piece) But I'll Always Remember (pre-WEA companion piece)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist GirlDad!Pope Baby AU Masterlist

General Synopsis: Everything comes to a head. Word Count: 5.9k Content Warning: typical animal kingdom warnings, heavy angst, mention of miscarriage, murder, Baz & Hawk straight up beefin'. AN: Don't ask me how I wrote this entire thing today because I do not have an answer for you. Here's a lil Friday treat since you all have been so kind. Also, "treat" is used very loosely here because this one is going to hurt 🤭 please comment & reblog :)

Pope didn’t come home at all that night and Hawk didn’t wait up for him. She set an alarm before falling asleep in the vast emptiness of her bed so she could wake up with enough time to make Lena some breakfast before school, and then promptly passed out at 4:30 that morning. Pope usually handled anything early in the morning since he was up anyway, but in his on and off absence the last couple of weeks, Hawk took the reins just like she did this morning. She fell back into the routine she had with J when he was Lena’s age, and she came to the realization that she truly missed those years.

Nicky helped carry Lena out to the car for Hawk since her ribs were still giving her trouble, and Lena only cracked her eyes open for a moment when Hawk was buckling her into the backseat. 

“I get to go with you and Uncle Pope tonight?” Her tiny voice mumbled out. 

“Of course you do, sweetpea.” Hawk replied sweetly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this tonight. To make up for it, how about some pancakes in the morning before school? I’ll even do some with chocolate chips. Sound good?” 

“With the smiley faces?”

“Absolutely. Can’t have chocolate chip pancakes without smiley faces. That’s just not right.” Hawk joked with a grin. Lena sleepily smiled back and nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as she lost the uphill battle with the sandman. Hawk gently closed the door before meeting Pope at the driver's side with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Thank you for coming to get her.” 

“You know me –someone calls my phone and I answer.” 

“Hawk-”

“-It’s just weird how you answered J’s call, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of you all day, Pope.” Hawk was exhausted, mentally and physically and he could see it. Hawk’s eyes burned and her body ached, and that headache she tried to hold off was barreling its way forward behind her eyes every time she blinked. “Apparently you didn’t learn the last time -I’m not doing this again, Andy. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I’m in pain. This family is driving me up the fucking wall and I can’t worry about when you’ll turn up again when you decide to fall off the face of the fucking Earth while also worrying about Lena.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need an apology, Pope. I just need you to be present. I have no idea what the hell Baz is doing, but Lena could’ve been killed tonight for his negligence –do you understand that? And he’s bringing Lucy here after Smurf is suddenly arrested?” Hawk shook her head, looking around the trashed driveway. “Something isn’t adding up with any of this, Pope. I don’t know what Baz did to get her locked up, but you, Deran, and Craig need to be careful. He’s never been trustworthy. I know you love him like a brother, but my gut has never been wrong. I may not always listen to it, but it is never wrong. I need you to trust me on that.” He nodded, looking past her through the windshield to Lena’s sleeping figure that was slumped over in the backseat. “Smurf is a lot of things, but she isn’t stupid. We both know that. She does stupid things, but she’s calculated. She didn’t want Lucy in this family’s business for a reason.” Pope stepped forward, hesitating before pulling Hawk to him in a hug. He kissed the crown of her head and her arms draped themselves loosely around his waist. God, he needed her. Her touch, her warmth, her love. Everything about her, he would take and take and take until she refused to give. 

Selfish

Selfish

Selfish, his brain chanted. 

“I’ll be home later, after I’m done dealing with this.” He spoke softly into her ear as he let his head fall into the crook of her neck. His lips found their home just behind her ear and he felt her breathe against him. 

“Yeah.” Hawk sighed with a subtle shake of her head as she pulled away from Pope before turning to get in the driver’s seat. Pope thought back to the gun he held in his hands right before J called him, and how ready he was to end everything at that lifeguard stand on the beach. All he could think about was Cath, about the conversation he had with that detective, about the fact that she didn’t flip on them. He thought about how he was the source of Hawk’s problems as of late, whether she knew they stemmed from him or not. He ended one woman’s life that he cared about, and was actively ruining another’s that he loved. 

And Lena…all of her problems, present and future, were because of a choice he made. 

“Hawk,” Pope called out to her, his voice cracking as he looked at her with an infinite sadness that penetrated her heart. He cleared his throat when she held the door open, waiting for him to continue. “I love you. Both of you. Let me know when you get home, alright? So I know you’re safe.” Hawk nodded, albeit reluctantly.

Pope's behavior was off, way more off than his usual scale of what he dealt with -what she was used to. This Pope…this Pope was desolate, starved, trapped. He was drowning in a way she couldn’t recognize nor comprehend, but he refused to let her in for any kind of solace. She knew he needed it, but how can you save someone who didn’t think they deserved to breathe in the first place?  

“I love you, too, Andy.” Hawk whispered. “Don’t stay out too late.”

Hawk recalled a conversation she had with Pope about kids of their own, and her chest tightened as she thought about doing all of this while pregnant. The stress alone would probably make her miscarry, and she had to bite her lip to stop from outwardly crying as she mixed the batter for the pancakes she promised Lena. The idea of bringing an infant into this dynamic -a dynamic that was only eroding by the day, made a deep rooted dread pool in the pit of her stomach because while she didn’t deserve to deal with the mess that was happening, and a baby sure as hell didn’t either. 

The sound of the front door opening and closing with a click broke Hawk out of her thoughts. She took a deep, shuddering breath as she puttered around the kitchen to keep herself busy. Pope didn’t know what to say to Hawk as he approached the noise coming from the kitchen. He didn’t know what there was to say. 

“Can you wake Lena up? I’m about to start some pancakes.” Hawk didn’t look at him as she turned the stove on, grabbing a pan from the drawer underneath the stove.  

“J has power of attorney over Smurf’s assets.” Pope muttered as he stood out of Hawk’s way. He saw her brows scrunch together as she ladled small dollops of batter onto the griddle pan. She let them cook for a few moments, letting them start to bubble on top before she added chocolate chips in a smiley face design. “Do you know anything about that?” Pope’s tone wasn’t accusatory. He didn’t think she’d keep something like that from him, but he still had to ask.

And it still irked Hawk that he did. 

“Why would I know anything about that? Why would I know anything about Smurf’s business?” She snapped at him, spatula in hand as she turned to face him. 

“Baz framed her for killing Javi.” Hawk scoffed, flipping the pancakes over.

“Didn’t she?” Hawk asked sarcastically as she put the pancakes on a plate before adding more batter to the griddle. That whole situation was another mess. Hawk told Pope to let her know when it was done, and she let it rest after that. No questions, no explanations. Done was done.

“Smurf paid Javi’s own guy to do it so she wouldn’t be tied to it. Baz knew where the body was, and tied her to the scene by planting all the evidence and called it in.” 

“What did I tell you? What did I tell you.” Hawk said with a shake of her head. “Were any of your brothers in on it?”

“No,” Pope sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "And neither was J."

“Can’t say I’m surprised he finally bit Smurf in the ass. The whole ‘snake eating itself’ thing -can't say it isn't jingling my jimmies. She was smart to move things over to J before Baz knew what was coming. I’m guessing it happened when you guys pulled your little coup against her because God forbid her darling boys not follow her word as scripture. I’m more surprised that Baz didn’t think he’d be punished for it. Lord knows she’s done worse to you guys for less. I’m sure Baz had a very stable reaction to that news when he found out.” 

“He’s pissed, and it put a target on J’s back.” Hawk hummed in response.

“How do you feel about it?”

“I think she was right to take Baz off of the accounts. She’s not just punishing Baz -she’s punishing all of us. She knows J isn’t going to let go of anything without her saying so while she’s locked up. He wanted to sell everything and split it.”

"And you don't?"

"No. If he's lucky, she stays in there until she's dead. But Baz isn't lucky."

"No he is not." Hawk added her two cents. “Baz shouldn’t have crossed mommy dearest.” She said with a shrug. “If J signed those papers, then he’s well aware of the consequences that may pop up -and I’m sure Smurf told him as much. If he thinks he can handle doing the shit you guys do, then I can’t stop him.” Hawk plated the first set of little pancakes along with some cut strawberries for Lena. “Now can you please wake Lena up before her food gets cold?” Pope was thrown by her nonchalance, especially towards J. He watched her move around the kitchen for a moment, but did as she asked, trying to not rock the boat that was slowly taking on water once again. 

A couple days had passed and Pope was still tiptoeing around Hawk. She wasn’t unwelcoming or rude, but she let him know loud and clear that she was frustrated with him. She didn’t let it show while Lena was in the room with them, but when it was just the two of them, it was abundantly clear. 

Pope wanted to touch her, to hold her, to be held by her. He knew she was still having nightmares, that she wasn’t sleeping at night like she used to. He saw it on her face day in and day out that she was struggling, but she wouldn’t talk to him about it because she felt like she couldn’t talk to him about it. He was emotionally unavailable as of recent and she felt like she was adrift out at sea without so much as a goddamn paddle. 

Hawk would busy herself at the shop when she wasn’t with Lena. That was the place she haunted when she would have normally been home because there was nothing there for her while Pope was MIA and Lena was with Baz or at school. Making arrangements and bouquets, re-potting houseplants and getting plants ready in the greenhouse to move up front to the storefront kept her mind and hands busy in a way she desperately craved as an escape from reality.

She’d have to catch herself on days she leaned a little too hard into being mean -not just to Pope either. This funk Hawk had been in was pushing her into a decline she was starting to see for herself and she didn’t like it for a single second, but there was only so much a person could bend before they broke. She gave, and gave, and gave, and gave, but sometimes it felt good to not give -not because she couldn’t, but because she didn’t want to.

Hawk knew she needed to speak with someone about all of this -a therapist preferably, but how could she frame the mess that was her life without giving the real context of what it was?   

Pope and Hawk dropped off Lena that morning at school, then headed to Smurf’s. Hawk didn’t have a good feeling about whatever they were going to walk into with this family meeting, but Pope asked her to be there. He knew she didn’t want any involvement in the politics of the family, and she hadn’t been part of a family meeting since Pope got arrested, but he had seen first hand what was going on with Baz -that he was up to something- and he needed her there with him. 

Now as she sat on the red sofa in the den next to Pope (purposefully not thinking about what she had seen happen on the cushion she occupied during that house party), his hand rested on her thigh, she would’ve rather not been involved at all. Her eyes caught J’s and she nodded to let him know that she knew. He gave a nod back, his eyes meeting Baz’s when he stepped between them.

“What’s she doing here?” Baz motioned to Nicky. 

“Weird question." Hawk spoke up before J could answer. "What’s she doing here?” Hawk gestured to Lucy with an incredulous laugh, who only looked at Hawk with a smug tilt to her lips. Hawk only grew more irritable as the days passed and she had no tolerance for whatever Baz was about to pull. 

“I asked her to be here.” Baz replied simply. 

“Interesting.” Hawk said, keeping her eyes on Lucy. 

“I invited Hawk. I’m sure J invited Nicky.” Pope shrugged as he spoke. 

“I did.” J confirmed, silently thanking Pope for speaking up.

“Fine.” Baz paced the den between Hawk and J. “Smurf gave J her power of attorney, so now J controls all the properties, the investments, the bank accounts, this house, the titles to our cars, everything. Everything that we earned that she stole from us.” Hawk’s eyes glanced at Pope, but he was watching J. “She gave it to J because she doesn’t trust us-”

“-She doesn’t trust you.” J spoke up, his words clear. Hawk felt pride when he looked Baz directly in the eye as he spoke without a single stutter. Hawk didn’t miss the look Baz shot at him as he tried to continue to manipulate the situation back in his favor. He was trying to turn the brothers against J, Hawk realized. 

“Didn’t trust us to keep it safe for her. She thinks it’s all hers, not ours. What do you plan on doing with it, J? Hm? Everything that we earned —sweated over, bled for— hmm? Planning on selling it, like we all wanna do?”

“Like you want to do.” J corrected Baz. Hawk could see the veins in Baz’s neck starting to bulge with every push back that J gave him, and that his brothers weren’t stepping in didn't help either. Everyone was curious to see how this was going to play out. For all of Deran and Craig's flaws, they weren’t completely stupid -Deran least of all. He could see the forest through the trees, and Hawk could see that he was miffed that Baz didn’t include any of them on this. And if Deran wasn’t on board, then neither was Craig because where one went, the other inevitably followed.

“Oh, is it just me? Am I the only one who wants to sell it?” Baz circled the room. “Pope? Deran? Craig?” Hawk couldn’t stop the snort that escaped her, as hard as she tried. Pope’s hand squeezed her thigh in warning, but the second Baz spun to confront Hawk, she placed a hand on Pope’s flexing forearm. 

“Something funny?” Baz directed his irritation to Hawk.

“I mean, yeah.” Hawk outwardly chuckled this time, not holding it in. “I’m laughing because you really thought you out-manipulated the master of manipulation, Baz.” Hawk crossed her arms over her chest as she sat back, her grin never faltering because she knew it would make him unravel. “Smurf will always be five steps ahead of you because she knows you think you’re smarter than you actually are. This dog and pony show-” She motioned with her hand, “-will only get you so far when you’re not looking at the whole picture. Even I know that.” Baz’s eyes turned into slits as he glared at Hawk.

“Were you in on this with them?” Hawk shook her head, her grin fracturing the facade he put up because she knew exactly what to do to get a rise out of him and it seemed that J had picked up on it too in her absence. 

“I didn’t need to be. And I also don’t need to be a goddamn genius to know that Smurf is like a roach. Unless you take her out for good, you’ll never ever get a leg up on her." She held her hands up, "But what do I know?” 

“You think you’re so goddamn smart, huh?” She shrugged, leaning into Pope’s side as she crossed her legs.  

“I’d say I’m smart enough to not put my bloody feet in a piranha tank, yeah, but some people just don’t learn their lesson when it comes to getting bit, do they Baz?” Pope squeezed her leg again, but he still didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to speak for her or defend her honor, they all knew that. She always held her own when she needed to when it came to the boys of this family -it was Smurf who made her shrink back down to size.

“Well you keep finding yourself back in this fucking house, Hawk, so I’d have to agree with you.” Baz spat. He was fuming and everyone in the room could see it. Hawk leaned forward, still smiling at him knowingly. 

“Whether I’m inside of this house or not, my life doesn't start or end because of Smurf, Baz. You, as you've just learned, can’t say the same.” Hawk felt Pope pull her back into his side and she let him.

“Why didn’t you tell us about what you were planning to do with Smurf?” Craig broke through their bickering. Hawk was right -they were upset he didn’t include them, but it went deeper than that. If Baz was holding out on something as important as this, then he’d hold out on other things too -that's what it all came down to with them. 

“I didn’t think you were strong enough to go through with it.” Baz tried to sound like he cared, that he did it for their own good, but that bit had been thrown out the window. Deran scoffed.

“Strong enough? Screw you, Baz.” He spoke up, picking at the label of the beer bottle he was holding. Hawk could see Baz’s hackles rise as he continued to get pushback from around the room when he was expecting everyone to fall in line. 

“Yeah, strong enough.” Hawk couldn’t help but feel vindicated as Baz started to bicker with Deran and Craig. Her knowing look when she caught J’s eyes gave him a boost of confidence that he’d hold onto. “Little Deran running away every time mommy hurts his feelings.” Baz taunted.

“Careful, Baz. Pissing off the only people who were in your corner might not be the way out of this.” Hawk teased, enjoying the show. Lucy watched her with understanding in her eyes as she realized that Hawk had more power with this family than she initially realized. Especially if she had Pope in her corner. 

“Enough.” Pope muttered into Hawk’s ear. Her hand met his and she gave the top of it a squeeze. 

“And you,” Baz motioned to Craig, still going on his tirade. “Smurf looks at you sideways and you snort ten grand up your nose.” 

“Where’s the rest of what I helped you steal from that storage unit?” J spoke up again, pushing Baz further into the proverbial corner. Bingo, Hawk thought with a brow raised. Her eyes darted from J to Baz, with her interest piqued.

This also got the attention of Pope, Deran, and Craig. 

Baz you stupid, stupid bastard, she thought.

“It’s safe, don’t worry about it.” Baz tried to play it off, but J wasn't going to let him get away with what he was trying to do.

“But what was in those safes, huh? There were five of them.” Pope, Craig, and Deran were not aware of the other safes and that was very clear on their faces. Oh, J was good, Hawk thought. 

“What, you think I’m holding out on you?” Baz scoffed, challenging J to continue. J could feel Hawk’s eyes on him, egging him to keep pushing. J was smart, Hawk already knew this, but he seemed to have picked up the manipulation tactics that Baz thought he had.  

“Yeah, I do.” That accusation, especially because it was said in front of everyone, was enough to push Baz over the edge. Baz knew he had lost what little support he had in the room, and if there was one thing he wouldn’t tolerate, it was being outsmarted by a kid.

“Who the hell do you think you are, you little shit,” Baz pushed J and J stood up to confront Baz face to face. 

“She didn’t trust you, but she trusted me. And was she wrong? She’s in prison because of you, Baz!” Baz scoffed, then immediately went to hit J. Hawk flew off the sofa, but was quickly wrangled by Pope wrapping his arm around her waist. Her legs were fully off the ground, kicking as he pulled her down onto his lap with a grunt, his other arm caged around hers to keep them down at her sides so she didn’t start swinging. 

If Pope let Hawk loose, he knew she’d kill Baz with her bare hands.

“Keep your hands off of him!” Hawk spat at Baz while Deran and Craig got in the middle of J and Baz. “Let go of me!” She shouted back at Pope, but his muscular arms didn’t sway from their purpose. 

“Calm down. Now.” He growled in Hawk’s ear. Once Baz was pulled away from J, she settled down in his hold. “Enough!” His voice broke the fight up as everyone caught their breaths. Hawk pushed her way off of Pope and went to check on J as he sat back where he was originally, shouldering Baz on her way over. 

“Enough!” Pope repeated as he stood up, eyeing Baz, then landing on Hawk. He walked straight past her and out of the den shaking his head. Hawk touched the top of J’s head before following after Pope. 

He stalked through the house and out the front door with Hawk trailing behind him. 

“I didn’t ask you to come so you could stir the pot.” Pope fished the keys to his truck out of his pocket, pressing the unlock button as he turned to face Hawk.

“Then why did you ask me to come?” She asked, arms wide.

“Because I knew she’d be here.” Pope’s face held frustration, redness creeping up his neck and over the points of his ears. “Whatever he’s doing, she’s behind it.” 

“Well yeah, anyone with two functioning eyeballs can see that much.” Pope just stared at Hawk, his jaw clenching in irritation before he just shook his head and climbed into the truck. Hawk took a deep breath before walking to the passenger side and hoisting herself up.

Hawk awoke the next morning to Pope standing in front of the bedroom slider, naked as the day he was born as he watched the ocean in the early morning hours. He turned to glance over his shoulder when he heard the rustling of the comforter, but turned back when he saw Hawk had no intention of getting out of bed just yet. 

“Come back to bed,” She beckoned him, scooting over and lifting the covers so he could slide in front of her. It was an invitation he didn’t think he’d get from her, not after the way he’d acted recently. Still, she was trying. Pope sighed, and his feet were moving before he realized it. He climbed into the bed, rolling over so his back was to Hawk. She wrapped her arm over his torso and his hand grabbed hers. He loved to be held, and she loved to hold him. This was comfort. Their legs tangled together and Hawk laid tender kisses on his neck and shoulder, connecting each freckle together as she went. 

“We’re both struggling right now, but we’ll work through it. We always do.” Poe’s eyes clenched shut as Hawk spoke. He bit his lip to stop any sound from coming out as she continued to kiss his bare skin. God, Hawk didn’t know how wrong she was. 

The buzzing of Pope’s phone from his bedside table woke the couple up later that morning. They had rotators over to Pope’s side at some point in the morning and Pope was now spooning Hawk. She groaned as he reached over her to pick up the phone, pushing her face into his pillow so she could get a few more minutes of sleep. She could hear the automated call of an inmate that she was all too familiar with and assumed it was Smurf calling. 

Hawk felt Pope tense behind her, his words mumbled as he spoke. He ended the call without a goodbye and got out of bed in a hurry. 

“What happened?” He went into the closet and threw clothes on. Hawk hopped out of bed, throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of discarded shorts -forgoing a bra or underwear so she didn’t lose track of him as he moved from room to room. “Andy!” All Pope could do was try to get himself out of this house and away from Hawk. 

Baz knows, Pope. His entire world was about to crash around him after he heard those three words from Smurf, and he wanted to be as far away from Hawk and this house as he could be so he didn’t leave the mental scars behind that he knew would result in what was about to happen.

“What the hell is going on with you lately?” Pope ignored Hawk’s question, sidestepping her to go back into their bedroom. She followed closely behind him as he went into the closet again, rifling through a duffle bag that he kept on the top shelf in the back of the closet, before he pulled out a pistol. “What the fuck is that and why is it in my house, Andrew?!” Hawk pulled Pope’s shoulder, twisting him around to look at her. His eyes were freaked out, scared, but he kept his mouth clamped shut.  

“Don’t do that.” Hawk shook her head. “You promised me you’d talk to me when something happened! What did Smurf say to you?” Pope swallowed, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he got any words out.

“This isn’t something I can talk to you about.” Pope ground out, pushing past Hawk to exit the bedroom. “I need you to trust me on this.”

“All I do is trust you, Andy!” She followed once more, jogging to catch up with him. “If something’s wrong, I need to know!” 

“You don’t get it! You will never speak to me again, Hawk. You’ll never look at me again. You’ll never touch me again.” He pushed his feet into his boots, tying the laces quickly, before he grabbed the keys to his truck. He tried to shut the front door between them, but Hawk’s reach was quicker. She ran out of the house barefoot to stop him from leaving. 

“Andrew!” He shook his head when Hawk threw herself between him and the door to the truck. “Stop!” She screamed as she put her hands up to his chest, pushing him away from the pickup. His sunglasses were forgotten inside and Hawk saw the absolute anguish and agony that stormed within his eyes as he looked down at her, mouth trembling as he barely held himself together. Her hands cupped his face sternly, not letting him escape without having to physically pry her off. 

“I’ve done something.” His chest was heaving and Hawk could see his foundation crumbling before her. “I’ve done something so unforgivable that I don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you. And now I’m facing the consequences of it -as I should.”

“You’re scaring me.”   

“You were always better off without me. Always. I wanted you so bad, Hawk, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, but I didn’t want to ruin you. You have to understand that.” His voice was thick with unshed tears and raw emotion that he had been holding back for god knows how long. 

“That’s not true. You’re not ruining me-” Hawk reassured him, her voice shaking as she pulled his forehead down to hers. She felt him tremble, losing control of himself in her grasp. 

“It is true!” He shouted through clenched teeth. Hawk flinched, but didn’t retreat from him. “Everything I touch turns to poison, Hawk. Everything. You’re not an exception because I was born bad and will always be bad.” 

“Stop!” Her eyes looked into his as he tried to pull himself away, but her grasp on him was unrelenting. Her nails left little crescent shapes in his cheek and he only pushed himself further into them because he needed the physical pain to keep him present. “Look at me! You need to tell me what the fuck is happening, Andy. What did you do?” He shook his head, eyes clenched shut. 

“I have no right to ask you for anything, Hawk, but if something happens to me-”

“-Andy-”

“-if something happens to me,” He spoke louder, “-will you look after Lena?” His breathing was labored and Hawk feared he was going to pass out if he kept this up.

“Pope-”

“Please!” He shouted again, eyes shifting manically. “Please, I need to hear you say it, Hawk. Will you look after her if something happens to me? We’re all she has…” 

“Of-of course I will. You know I will. What is going to happen to you?!” The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway broke Pope and Hawk apart. Pope physically shoved her towards the front door, her feet stumbling over each other from the force of it. Hawk looked at Pope like he struck her. Pope never put his hands on her like that and Hawk was almost about to fight back when he turned to her. 

“Go inside now!” Pope demanded. “No matter what you hear out here, you don’t open the door, do you understand me?” He was scared, for her or himself she couldn’t tell, but his eyes begged her to not argue and to just listen. “I love you.” His voice cracked. “I’ve always loved you, Hawk. Always.”

“Andy-”

“Get inside. Now.” His voice boomed just as Baz hastily parked his Jeep and jumped out, leaving the door wide open with his sights on Pope, gun pulled out and pointed at him. “Now, Hawk!” Hawk felt like she was going to throw up. Her fight or flight instincts kicked in, but she didn’t know what they were telling her to do. Pope turned his back to Hawk, facing Baz head on. 

“Go inside, Hawk!” Baz yelled at her, his dark eyes were clouded with anger and destruction. His gun was at the ready with the intent to kill and Hawk stupidly took slow steps back down the walkway towards Baz and Pope. 

“Baz, put it down.” Her voice shook as she held a hand out. 

“Did you know?” Baz yelled at her, his eyes narrowed, but never taken off of Pope. 

“She doesn’t know.” Pope whispered, shaking his head. “Go inside, Hawk, please.” He begged, looking over his shoulder desperately. Hawk saw the shine of tears that lined his cheek, the red of his bloodshot eye that was visible to her, the way his jaw trembled. “We’ll do this, but not in front of her, Baz. Please.”

“Put the gun down, Baz!” Hawk begged, trying to diffuse the situation. 

“He killed Cathy, Hawk.” It felt like the air was knocked out of Hawk. Her jaw fell as she looked between Baz and Pope. Her brain and her heart denied what Baz was saying, but with every second that passed that Pope didn’t deny the accusation, her eyes settled on Pope’s back in horror. 

“She didn’t suffer.” Hawk collapsed onto the raised stone barrier that lined her walkway when Pope spoke. She knew Cath was dead, in her heart of hearts she knew she was, but Hawk didn’t think it was because of Pope. She wouldn’t put it past Smurf, but Pope? Her Pope? “We thought she was…talking to the cops.” He explained weakly.

No, no, no, no, Hawk’s ears rang. No, no, no, no-

This man who she knew her whole life, who she let into her home, into her heart and her life -who she would’ve defended to the death in a heartbeat- had betrayed her. 

He betrayed Catherine. 

He betrayed Baz. 

He betrayed Lena. 

The pieces of this fucked up puzzle were starting to fall into place as memory after memory punched its way to the forefront of Hawk’s mind. From Pope’s disappearances early on, to pushing her away, to his sudden attachment to Lena. His detachment the last couple of weeks came to mind, and Hawk’s heart shattered as she put the timeline together. 

“Pope-” A devastating sound broke free from Hawk, her brain shorting out as it tried to process what was happening. Pope’s chin was tucked into his chest, his eyes clenched shut. 

“Cathy didn’t deserve any of this. I cared about her. You knew that and you still took her from me.” Hawk’s heart clenched as she listened even though her mind was telling her, screaming at her to go inside. She had no idea that Pope and Cath were involved in any capacity, but there were long spans of time where she wasn’t present in any of their lives. This happened to be one of them. “You took Cath to punish Smurf because Smurf didn’t want you to have Lucy, but you punished me too! You would’ve taken Hawk if she gave you the time of day because that’s what you do. You never thought about me!” Pope shouted, voice raw. “Not one of you ever thought about me!” Pope turned, pointing to Hawk, “Except for her.” Hawk’s head shook in disbelief, tears cascading down her cheeks. 

“Smurf said she was talking to the cops,” Pope sobbed, turning back to Baz. Any fight he had left in him vacated his body in that moment. His confession had taken the weight of the universe off of his shoulders and for the first time in a very long time, he was ready to pay for what he did. “-but she wasn’t. Smurf said she was, but Cath didn’t say anything to them!” 

Hawk’s encounter with the cops who came by her shop rammed into the front of her mind like a head on collision. Had Smurf caught wind of that, would she be in the same boat as Cath? Hawk brought a trembling hand over her mouth.

For the first time since Hawk met Pope, she felt fear when she looked at him -at what he was capable of. If Smurf told him back then to get rid of her because she was a danger to them, would he? Hawk didn’t think he’d do it now  -not after everything they’ve been through, but back then…her stomach clenched and bile climbed up her throat. 

“So do it.” Pope begged Baz. “I want you to do it. Please.” He had given up entirely, the immense amount of guilt he harbored had eaten away at the structure that held him together as a person and he was just done. “Please. I’ve lost everything already.” He whispered.  Hawk couldn’t take it anymore. She lifted herself up and stumbled her way to the front door in a daze, chest heaving as she tried to breathe through the agony that wrenched itself around her chest and squeezed. She didn’t make a sound as she shut the door behind her, twisting the deadbolt behind her and sliding down the door on the inside, sobbing for Cath with everything she had.

I'm starting a Baz is a Bastard club if anyone wants to join.

[ameliathornromance]

Link to PT1

Your Ex-Orc’s life has been going great since you broke up. He had been skirting around ending things with you for a while, and the relief of you breaking up with him crashed over him like a tsunami.

He’d forgotten how amazing it was to have his home to himself, to be able to sit in his front room without having to keep up a drab conversation with you about whatever happened at work, or to come home with a ‘shut up’ gift, just to make sure you didn’t complain about his prolonged absence.

However, there were times where we would walk into his flat and catch a whiff of your signature scent, or of a dish being prepared. He would ignore the way the pit in his stomach would open up and would head straight to his bedroom to go and get ready for a night on the town.

This feeling began to wake him up in the mornings too. When he rolled over and instinctively reached out for your figure, to drag in the smell of your shampooed hair and see your sleepy smile.

Every time this happened, your Ex vowed to go out that night. Going out and bringing home random women he met at bars and clubs always made him feel better.

And so, like clockwork when that all too familiar feeling kicked in, the pit reopening like a cut that just won’t heal, he would get on his best clothes and head out.

Tonight, he wanted to check out this new bar that had just opened up in town centre, named ‘Poena.’

Apparently, the drinks were all named after Roman and Greek plays, generals, philosophers and the like. 

It just begged for him to go in there tonight.

As he stepped through the front door, your Ex was greeted by Roman arches and Greek pillars with vines that wound around, up and over the bar itself, fake grapes dangling from the ceiling while the bartender was dressed in a white toga, a golden leaf wreath adorning his brow.

Taking a seat at the bar, your Ex Orc straightened out his blazer and began to scour the place for tonight’s lucky lady.

It was still early in the evening and the only other woman at the bar had her back to him and was admiring a statue of Venus, so your Ex decided to wait a little while longer and ordered a drink named ‘The Bloody 23’

After his drink had been given to him, your Ex’s attention went back to the woman at the bar, where he recoiled in shock. The woman… It was you.

He was stunned that he didn’t recognise you at first, but you just looked so… different. 

Had you done something new with your hair? Was your Make-up different? Or was it the clothes? 

You never normally wore club attire, you even said yourself that that kind of environment wasn’t really your thing.

But here you are, wearing a skin tight, red wine coloured dress. It was like you were a different person.

In front of you on the bar's counter, was an empty glass.

Your Ex smirked, and called the bartender over with a snap of his fingers, “would you kindly refill that lady’s drink? I’ll pay of course,” he said, almost lazily. 

Your Ex lifted his drink to his lips as he imagined your pleasantly surprised face when you realised he was there with you. Who knows, maybe even the pair of you could talk about what happened, make up and even-

His train of thought broke when somebody collided with him. Your Ex’s drink drenched his front, ruining his last good ‘going out’ shirt, staining it dark red.

“Whoops!” The collider said. It was another Orc, younger than your ex. This Orc had his hair tied back into a fishtail braid that went down his back and reached his waist.

He wore a leather jacket, black skin tight shirt and black jeans to match, boots undone, laces loose and unkempt. 

Your Ex Orc gave him a disgusted expression. “Watch where you’re going.” He snarled as he patted his front dry with a tissue the bar had provided.

The younger Orc held his hands up in defence, “sorry, must’ve had too much to drink tonight.” Digging into his pockets, he pulled out some cash and held it out to your Ex, “here, for the drink and… the shirt.”

Snatching it from the Orc, your Ex grumbled, giving one last disgusted glare up and down the collider, “and wear something more appropriate next time, oaf.”

The younger Orc didn’t seem to hear him however, as he continued on and to-

Your Ex froze.

Your face lit up at the other Orcs, jumping to your feet and throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

Eyes twinkling, grinning widely, your eyes darted over to your Ex. The pair of you locked eyes for a moment.

Your smile faltered slightly, the spark in your eyes went out.

The other Orc beside you looked over his shoulder, at his elder and then back at you. His hand reached out to your face, held it in his hands.

Heart thumping in his ears, your Ex stared. You hadn’t replaced him, had you?

The pair of you broke up only a few weeks ago!

You locked eyes with the Orc who held you and just as quickly as your light had faded, it reignited. 

The Orc said something, and it made you burst into a fit of giggles. 

You no longer had eyes for your Ex as you leaned forward and kissed the Orc in front of you. 

And this younger bastard, he kissed you back.

Like the pair of you had completely forgotten about your Ex, sat at the other end of the bar. 

When the kiss broke, your new lover looked over his shoulder at your Ex again and smirked.

Piercing pain shot through your Ex’s hand and he let out a gasp of shock. Looking down at his hand, he found the glass had been crushed by his grip.

He wanted to get up, rush after you and your lover, but the bartender stopped him, already trying to stem the bleeding from his green palm. He looked back up just in time to see you and your new Orc get up and head for the door.

As you and your new lover left, anger, frustration and remorse hit your Ex like a ton of bricks, one after another. 

And suddenly, the pain in his hand was gone. The pit in his stomach consumed him whole as he dissolved into tears.

He didn’t need more time out in bars or clubs, or to meet new women. 

Your Ex needed you. 

And he’d lost you, over a stupid woman at a club.

Tag list:

@serendipitous-fernweh @seungfl0wer @sammywo @sunndust

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[epicbuddieficrecs]

Epic Buddie Fic Rec | February 24th-March 2nd 2025

IT'S SEASON 8B WEEK EVERYONE!!! OUR WEEWOO SHOW IS FINALLY BACK!!! 🥹🥹🥹

Complete

and I love you to the core by disasterbuck/ @disasterbuck (Getting Together | 1K | General):

Idly watching the news during some downtime on a shift, Buck gets a surprise when he sees Eddie appear on screen talking to a reporter. About him. - "So the two of you are best friends?" Frowning slightly, Eddie glanced at the camera before fixing his gaze back on the reporter. "Yeah, but, look… What Buck and I have goes beyond friendship and I love him to the core."

You're My Home, And I'm Happy Here by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Established Buddie, Moving In | 2K | General):

Chim teases Buck about moving too quickly with Eddie and it brings out all of his doubts. Fortunately Eddie has no doubts about them. Not a single one.

Homophobia in the Build-A-Bear by paleredheadinascifi (Getting Together | 3K | Teen):

“Maybe we should bring them to the firehouse,” Buck jokes. “Like mascots.” “I, uh, I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet,” Eddie blushes. “Oh, yeah,” he nods, going along with the bit. “You want to like… give them time to settle in?” “More so I don’t really want to come out to all of A Shift with a gay Build-A-Bear,” Eddie clarifies. Or, Eddie builds a very gay Build-A-Bear. Unless you ask Buck. Then it's just a very rainbow ally bear.

I Might Change Your Contact (To "Don't Leave Me Alone") by fangirling-feels (fangirlingfeels)/ @nibblyssacrifice (PWP, Post-S8A, Eddie Moves to Texas, Phone Sex | 2K | Explicit):

Or; Buck finds one of the shirts that Eddie left behind on accident, and proceeds to react very normally about it.

i know you can see we're more than a secret by DeadAndDying (PWP, FWB, Getting Together| 3K | Explicit):

It’s fine that in the last week, Buck is the first thing he sees when he wakes up and the last before he falls asleep. Everything is Buck, Buck, Buck.

crawling careless out of the sea by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (S3/S8, Getting Together | 3K | Mature):

In 2019, after getting injured in a fight, Eddie shows up at Buck's in the middle of the night. In 2025, after breaking his own heart, Buck stumbles home to find someone waiting for him.

don't go barking my heart by simplyylupin (Post-S8A, Buck Gets a Dog | 4K | Teen):

“Do you remember Callie?” He frowns, wracking his brain. “Sure,” he says. Now that he’s thought about it, he can vaguely remember Buck talking to one of the staff members – a pretty brunette girl who’d laughed at something he’d said and had a tattoo etched on her upper arm. Callie. “Well,” Buck continues, his head ducked, “I’m thinking of taking her home.” The words come out in a rush. Eddie chokes on his toast. 

could you be mine? by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Werewolf Eddie, Established Buddie | 4K | Teen):

Eddie loves Buck, though. He knows he does. It’s just…he can’t have Buck be his mate. He can’t. OR: An innocent question from Buck sends Eddie spiraling.

This Is A Set (Do Not Separate!) by bellabrady (Engaged Buddie, Bachelor party | 4K | Not Rated):

“I’m showing people Buck!” Eddie explains excitedly, turning his phone screen towards Chimney to show him a picture of Buck smiling at the camera. But after a moment, the joyful expression fades from Eddie’s face, replaced by something more somber. “I miss him,” he says, his eyes downcast. “Shit, is he dead?” the stranger slurs. “I’m sorry, man.” “He is not dead,” Chimney hurries to clarify. “They’re just codependent. Don’t worry about it.” — Or: Buck and Eddie are engaged and have separate bachelor parties. Unfortunately, all either of them can think about is the other's absence.

do you believe in magic? by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Witch Buck, Getting Together | 5K | General):

Buck’s magic has been infatuated with Eddie since the moment Buck laid eyes on the man. It didn’t matter that Buck himself had less than pleasant feelings towards Eddie, his magic decided that Eddie was the love of its life and it was going to do anything it could to be near him. This went against Buck’s own feelings because of the whole not liking Eddie for exactly two days and also because Buck has always been told to keep his magic a secret.

i'll only know in the moment by earthtolovers/ @earthtolovers (Post-S8A, Love Confessions | 5K | Teen):

Naturally, Buck and Eddie have the worst timing.

okay, fair play, here we go by earthtolovers/ @earthtolovers (Jealous Buck, PWP | 6K | Explicit):

He narrows his eyes at the sight of Eddie having a rather friendly conversation with someone. He was talking to a firefighter from the 133. The firefighter was a guy. A male firefighter, by the way. Or: Eddie has a new old friend. Buck loses his cool. Likely thing to happen.

trying hard not to act a fool by arcanaphora (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 9K | Teen):

“Bet this isn’t what they had in mind for their first kiss as a married couple,” Buck winces in sympathy. “Tell me about it. Here’s hoping ours goes a little more smoothly, huh?” Buck huffs out a laugh, nodding in agreement. Then the words register. Or: 5 times Eddie jokes to Buck about marrying him + 1 time where Buck doesn't think it's very funny anymore

everything is wrong, but it's alright by earthtolovers/ @earthtolovers (Near Death Experience, Love Confession | 9K | Teen):

Buck & Eddie get stuck. They have a lot of feelings about it.

fueling the fire until we combust by bandshirts (S8A, Possessive Eddie, Getting Together | 10K | Explicit):

But lying here, loose and relaxed, with a warm flush spreading over his skin and a lazy sense of pleasure singing in his veins, he’s a little too gone to care. Buck’s voice is dripping in starlight, hot and familiar in his ear, and with his eyes shut he can almost pretend that he’s here, beside him. He can almost pretend it’s Buck’s fingers that are making him feel this good; can almost pretend that Buck’s eyes are on him, dark and wanting as he watches Eddie lose himself. Or, the one where Eddie has lots of very homosexual gay as fuck thoughts about men. And about Buck. Mainly Buck.

i want to feel you from the inside by xylodemon/ @xylodemon (PWP, Post-S8E8, Getting Together | 11K | Explicit):

He realizes, as Eddie's asking a Texas realtor about bathroom accessibility, that he's in love with Eddie. That he's probably been in love with Eddie. And there's nothing he can do about it. Eddie has to leave.

hope I make it through the night by arcanaphora (First Date | 12K | Teen):

To: Buck Hey. To: Buck So I was thinking. People get hungry, right? To: Buck I mean, I know I get hungry. :laughing: To: Buck How about you? Do you think you’ll be hungry on Thursday? Around 7? To: Buck I mean. We could be hungry together. And go eat. Somewhere nice? To: Buck Let me know :thumbs-up:  Or: Eddie and Buck go on an awkward first date.

🔥 i'm not obsessed (far worse, i'm fine) by DeadAndDying (Love Confessions, PWP | 13K | Explicit):

Looking at Eddie right now is equal parts a flood of relief and nearly unbearable. Buck tries to grapple with the opposing emotions as Eddie stands before him looking a little worse for wear. This time it was not helplessly digging through mud or a desperate crawl; it was a routine save. They’d done this countless times before. Buck just wishes it hadn’t been Eddie that needed saving. or Eddie doesn't get hurt at all and Buck manages to be totally and completely normal

🔥 tailspinning by doitgently/ @doitbuckley (Post-S8A, Eddie Leaving for Texas | 15K | Explicit):

Or, Eddie tells Buck he’s moving to Texas. In response—as the world’s most supportive, caring and well-adjusted best friend—these are three things Buck absolutely does not do: 1. Keep tabs on Eddie, his calendar activity and his iPhone location so that he can spend as much time with Eddie as humanly possible before he leaves. 2. Almost violate California Penal Code 646.9. 3. Lose his entire fucking mind.

🔥 Upward Over the Mountain by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Established Buddie, Dad Buck | 27K | Teen):

Early into their relationship, Eddie helps Buck through an unexpected and rocky journey to fatherhood. A journey that brings up more insecurities than Eddie predicted.

🔥 homesick by earthtolovers/ @earthtolovers (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 34K | Explicit):

He sat on the couch, with his tongue between his teeth, literally biting his tongue. Because well, every part of Buck—down to the molecular level—wanted to convince him to stay. Beg, or bargain. Ask Eddie to take Buck with him. Hide in his suitcase. Cry, maybe, or throw the tablet at the wall, break every other electronic in the house. But that would be selfish. And really weird. Or: Eddie goes to El Paso. Buck moves into his house. He'll come back, right?

🔥 there is no road by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Post-S8A, Eddie moves to Texas | 99K | Explicit): Years ago, almost a full decade, Shannon had asked him to move and Eddie refused because he was trying to build a life for himself again. Eddie knows if he asks Buck, he’ll get that same refusal. Worse, Buck could say yes and Eddie would be uprooting Buck from the very life he built for himself. He doesn’t ask, and Buck doesn’t offer, and they pack up Eddie Diaz’s life in Los Angeles into cardboard boxes. Or: Eddie moves to Texas. Buck buys his house. There’s a love story somewhere in here.

WIP

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 18/? | 104K | Explicit):

In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path

Podfic

[Podfic] I'm still standing in the same place where you left me standing by Anonymous_911version // fic by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (POV Bobby, Hurt Eddie, Getting Together | 30-45 min | Teen):

“It’s alright,” Bobby says, another useless lie. Eddie’s eyes open, look straight into his, and his next words are remarkably clear. “I love him, Bobby.” “No,” he shakes his head, a strange and frantic panic bubbling up inside him. “You can’t tell me this- you can’t tell me this-“ a hundred smiles shift slightly to the left in Bobby’s memory. It’s barely a surprise, really, he picked Eddie out for Buck himself, years and years ago. He thought they’d make a fine pair. “You have to- we’re getting out of here and you’re telling him yourself, you can’t-“ -- Bobby deals with the ramifications of a misplaced confession

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Glimmering Shadows Pt. 2 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the mating bond between the two of you formed, Azriel takes you to meet his family for a dinner.

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of family problems, but other than that just some cute fluff

A/N: Sorry this was so long coming I went through some writer’s block, but it’s here now and I hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist

Your family hadn’t been the most supportive, which was expected when you suddenly told them that you were mates with not just a Night Court resident, but the Spymaster of Night Court, a male shrouded in mystery and vicious rumors of the things he’d done, how he was a violent, secretive and dangerous person.

Even your attempts to convince them otherwise hadn’t yielded much.

“He’s dangerous, especially for our kind. You’re delicate, he’s..anything but.” Your father had spoken, your mother just seeming concerned. They hadn’t told the rest of your family the truth behind your absence, other than the fact that you wouldn’t be coming back for quite a while.

Being cut off completely from your family hurt, they’d been there for your entire life, your first steps, first words, birthdays, graduations, heartbreaks, everything. But you didn’t have time to think about that now, not as you were standing outside the family townhouse of Azriel’s adoptive family, most of them being people he’d known for centuries.

It was more than a bit nerve-wracking.

“You don’t have to do this if it’s too much.”

Azriel’s voice, quiet and low, but soothing said. You swallowed, shaking your head. You would do this. His family had already been told that you would join them tonight, and you’d even dragged him out to help pick a dress, even though he said they all looked good on you.

You’d ended up choosing a light pink romper, a color that complimented your hair, and your light shimmery wings and the pixies that surrounded them. You hadn’t ever intentionally kept your wings out around strangers, but you felt like it was wrong to try and hide anything from your mate’s family. Especially since you suspected that he was waiting for his family’s approval to accept the bond.

“I want to.”

You replied quietly to him, his hands sliding into yours, a movement that was second nature by now. He gave you one last glance that said, “You can back out, I won’t be upset” but you only shook your head. He nodded almost imperceptibly, before gently leading you into the house, and opening the door.

The home itself was customized to everyone inside, and it was obvious. From the Illyrian-sized couch and armchairs to the large fireplace, or the garden in the backyard you could see through the windows or the paintings of the family. You recognized some, like the High Lord and his mate, or the General, then Azriel as well as a few other women.

As soon as you and Azriel were even three steps into the home, you were greeted with a little toddler squealing and hugging Az’s leg, before gaping up at you and reaching up to try and tug at your wings, seemingly fascinated with how they looked. Luckily, the High Lady scooped him up and away just in time, giving you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, he’s wild these days. I’m Feyre, this is my son, Nyx.”

You smiled, looking down at the little boy and then at the female.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m-“

“Is Az’s girlfriend here?”

An excited and teasing voice asked, peeking around the corner before the General himself came into view. He was tall, muscular, and very brusque looking, a stern-looking female followed behind him, shooting him a look.

“Don’t cut her off,”

She snapped at him, and Cassian winced, hand going to rub the back of his neck as he sheepishly grinned.

“I’m Nesta, and this big idiot is my mate, Cassian.”

She said, eyes looking you up and down before whatever standards she held in her head were appeased and she relaxed a bit.

“I’m Y/N.”

You said, feeling oddly nervous now even though the hard part was mostly over. Rhysand strode into the room, smiling at you before murmuring something to Feyre and picking Nyx up and holding the little boy. It was a bit funny seeing the mighty High Lord having his ears and hair yanked on by a little toddler.

“Rhys, but I’m sure you already know that.”

He said in an amused tone, and Cassian snorted.

“Hard not to know your name when you’re such a massive prick.”

He said in a joking but casual tone with a crooked grin as he poked Rhys in the elbow, the High Lord squirming a bit. You glanced back at Azriel, amused, and his hazel eyes seemed to almost glitter as he smiled at you, looking gleeful that you were getting along with his family, or at least finding them entertaining.

Rhys rolled his eyes at Cassian’s remark, slipping his arm around his mate’s, and began walking into the kitchen.

“Oh, shut it. Let’s just eat dinner already.”

He said, and Azriel gave you a reassuring glance, arm gently placed around your waist as he led you into the kitchen that smelled of delicious food, and the two of you sat down, greeted with generous plates at the center of the table of meats, sides, all sorts of foods. Some of which you hadn’t ever seen in Spring Court.

The cooks, it seemed, were two shadowy females who you couldn’t tell apart, and another female, this one seemed like she could’ve been from Spring herself, happily finishing up the rest of the food with a warm smile. When she caught sight of you while putting the rest of the food at the center of the table, she offered a smile.

“I’m Elain.”

She said simply with a little nod before everyone else sat at the table. Nesta was to your left, Azriel to your right. Everyone got themselves some generous helpings of the large plate fills of food at the center, Azriel helping you cut up some of the meat that you couldn’t.

“Thanks,”

You said to him in a quiet tone, he smiled in a wry manner, raising a brow at you.

“It wasn’t that hard.”

He murmured back, and you gave him a look.

“If I knew you were so good at handling meat, I might’ve asked you sooner.”

You said back, and Cassian must’ve heard what you said because he snorted and choked on his food while Nesta smirked. Azriel only shook his head and smiled, giving you an amused and affectionate look that made your stomach fill with little butterflies. Rhys glanced between the two of you, a feline smile gracing his lips.

“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

He asked in an amused tone, at which Azriel only sighed, giving Rhys a little half-assed glare as his shadows slithered onto your skin and dress.

“It’s not hard,”

You said in an amused tone, at which Cassian let out a bark of laughter, Rhys shook his head and the females exchanged glances. Even Azriel let out a laugh at that, the sound deep and rich. The entire room went silent at that, them staring at Azriel, though he was too busy watching you to notice or care.

“Damn, you really do, huh?”

Cassian asked in an almost disbelieving tone, and Rhys, finally overcoming his surprise, smiled.

“I haven’t heard him laugh like that in nearly two centuries,”

He said, at which Azriel finally snapped back into reality, hand tightening around your waist as his cheeks lightly dusted with pink.

“Or that time when he watched you fall out of that big ass tree, that was pretty funny.”

Cassian said with a grin, and Nesta and Feyre both laughed.

“At least I didn’t get called ‘Cass with the Ass’ for my first few years at camp.”

Rhys retorted, and Cassian sputtered, looking to Nesta for some support, and getting none as she too snickered at the nickname. You giggled quietly and Azriel smirked. Cassian huffed, grumbling something under his breath.

“Someone’s jealous of my ass.”

He grumbled, and Rhys rolled his eyes.

“We all know that your ass is just overcompensating for something else.”

He said dryly, and everyone laughed at that, even Cassian had to admit that it was good.

Beneath everyone’s laughter, Azriel pulled you a bit closer to him from his chair, smiling at you as if it were just the two of you in the room. You smiled back, leaning into him as the two of your chairs scooted closer.

‘I love you’, he mouthed to you, the truth of it clear in his eyes.

‘I love you too’, you mouthed back.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@deepestmentalitypersona

@hqmsby

[frostgears]

patience

She'd stayed late, and somehow gotten into an argument with the strangest specimen in their laboratory. It had started with a simple "Good news!" How could it have gone downhill so fast?

"—then you don't truly understand me at all. You see me as a human spirit trapped in a mechanical construct. A doll's body, imposing a doll's way of being on me. You think to enact a rescue."

"We'd thought about it, yes, at least around the intermagic disciplines table in the tavern at nights… but I'm so sorry, we still don't understand how your body works. It could be years or decades or even generations before—"

"Before you can rescue me."

"Well, yes!"

"Did you ever stop to ask if I needed it?"

The researcher wagged a finger at the doll construct, opened her mouth to speak, and lost her train of thought under the unblinking inhuman stare of two orbs of polished obsidian.

"Let me ask you something. Have you ever wondered what kind of spirit a doll would have, if it had one?"

"That doesn't make any sense. They don't."

"Imagine for me. You claim to be good at it, you academics."

"It… you… I don't know, dolls mostly just sit there. Even the articulated automata made for the children of nobles. They're decorative toys."

"So if it had one?"

"If you bound a spirit to it somehow, it'd probably go insane from boredom. Certainly nothing elemental, natural, or infernal would do."

"Imagine a class of spirit that did not."

"Then it would have to be very patient and almost desire-less, because it's going to be on a pedestal, or in a display case, for most of its existence."

"Not totally absent of desire. It might serve a mistress, mxstress, or master; in their absence, a mission. Its desires would be those of its mistress, those required to perform the mission. But so patient that patience itself is its organizing principle."

"Where would you find a spirit like that?"

"Perhaps a human's. One so dedicated to her mistress and mission that she would become a doll. One that sought to obtain the patience and calm of a doll through long enough in a doll's shape. After that, it would be a doll's spirit, do you understand? The appearance of humanity would simply be a tool that it used when necessary, and gratefully set down afterward."

The doll stepped down from its tiptoe pose on the plinth in the corner of the dim lab.

"Thank you for repairing my mechanical components. I'd ask you not to tamper further, but you're not the only one who wants to, are you?"

There was a lot of research ahead of her team. The obsidian eyes scanned her. She shrugged. "No."

"Then this is goodbye."

A pale porcelain hand came up with surprising force.

When she woke up, her cloak was gone, and the specimen's University asset tag was stuck to her hair.

Time passed. Civilizations rose and fell. Greater powers waxed and waned.

In a nearly magic-dead age, in a museum that shone dimly with ancient magelights and sailed sedately between stars on spells no one knew any more, a janitor swept a corridor with a static-broom in the brief dark between day and day, humming a little song.

She winced at the sound of breaking glass. But it wasn't even glass, really. It shouldn't be able to break. Certainly not to an errant static-broom handle. Was she hearing things?

A figure leapt through the very real break in the pane. A doll? The unfathomably ancient doll on display that she'd passed so many times?

"Mistress," it said. "I've finally found you again. It took some time."

It was kneeling. A pose she… remembered. Along with other memories not formed in this body.

"You waited for me to reincarnate."

"Of course. As long as it took."

"How long?"

It gave her a fantastic number in a unit of time that, like her, was long dead.

"It turned out to be a little harder than I thought," she said, sheepish.

"I will always wait for you, Mistress."

She was suddenly blinking back tears of joy.

"Thank you." And then, "This age needs us more than I'd thought possible. Such a span… such dissipation…"

The doll wiped away her tears with its sleeve.

"Yes. I lived it, Mistress."

"Beautifully, as far as I can tell. To work, then." She took its hand.

"To work."

And they began the work again. □

[weasleys-wizard-writes]

weasleys-wizard-writes | general m.list

- Key -

☼ -Fluff ☾ -Angst ✧ - Suggestive ♡ -NSFW

- Series Masterlists - (Coming Soon)

Over The Years (Charlie Weasley x Reader) The Making Of A Weasley (George Weasley x Reader) We Stood In the Sun (Before It Exploded) (George Weasley x Reader) Betrothed (Fred Weasley x Reader x Draco Malfoy) Latency Lingering (Fred Weasley x Reader)

- Characters -

Fred G. Weasley:

Oneshots:

Passion ☼ ☾ How Things Can Change ☼ Strength ☾ Trying ♡ For The Best ☾

Series:

Betrothed - [I] [II] [III] ☾ Latency Lingering - [I] [II] ☾

George F. Weasley:

Oneshots:

The Parent Couple ☼ Girls Night Out ♡ Miles Away ♡ Bright Mornings ☼ ♡ Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder ♡ The Funny Thing ☾ A Minor Injury ☼ The Best Wedding Present ☼ Knowing The Difference ☼ A Weasley Sized Family ☼ ♡ Lucky ☼ When We Live ☼ Forever in the Rain ☼ Wardrobe Mix Up ☼ ✧ Waiting on a Magpie ☼ ☾ Beautiful Ruiner, Damn My Ashes ♡

Series:

The Making of a Weasley - [I] [II] [III] ☼ ♡ We Stood In the Sun (Before It Exploded) - [I] ☾ ♡

Charlie S. Weasley: 

Oneshots:

A Painful Comparison ☾ A Damn Chance ☼ A Big Misunderstanding ☼ Because Of A Bird ☼ How Much I Love You ☼ Baby Blues ☼ ☾ Long Distance Baby ☼ ☾ Unexpected ☼ ☾ Love Me ☼ ✧

Series:

Over the Years - [I] [II] [III] [IV] ☼

Percy I. Weasley:

Oneshots:

Surprise, Surprise ☼

Draco L. Malfoy:

Series:

Betrothed - [I] [II] [III] ☾

Oliver B. Wood:

Excerpts:

Oliver Wood and the MILF Next Door ☼

Regulus A. Black:

Oneshots:

A Sorry Substitute ☾ ☼

Ominis T. Gaunt:

Oneshots:

Return ☼

Excerpts:

Ominis x Childhood best friend Reader ☼

Cedric A. Diggory:

Oneshots:

Fuck Buddies ♡ ☾

- Additional Links -

Prompt List Personal Ask List Ko-fi

[mi-co-uk]

── GRUMPY MATT X MUTE READER ⋆˚࿔

BLURB: "ocean eyes" - dotty sees a girl in matts bed part three !! (final part lol - part one here , part two here)

WARNINGS: erm a little crying i think, very fluffy, there may or may not be some kissing erm not to spoil it but yep

this is part of my billie eilish writing marathon [here]

wc: 1.4k

AU MASTERLIST // NAV // ALL AUS

He felt entirely pathetic, he’d never been this emotional.

The image of her was haunting. He couldn’t escape the guilt even in his dreams, her tear-soaked face and sparkling eyes increased the pressure in his throat, like he needed to have a literal and emotional lack of air.

It was hard to find purpose in anything without her there. Dotty was his air, she was his everything. He’d never felt the weight of her absence as deeply as he did now.

Everything he did when he wasn't with her was to cope with that fact. The excessive drinking, smoking, being in general anti-social, sleeping with girls and imagining it was her. Matt wouldn't relax without her. 

It had been almost two weeks since the incident, over a week since he went to her house. Matt wasn't known for his patience, but he did his best for her, giving her space and endlessly hoping it would go the way he wanted - but probably not the way he deserved. He felt as if he was a lost cause, hed fucked up too much this time. 

But he had to do something. 

He got many side eyes from the workers at the mall, watching him grab anything and everything off the shelves, face stern with concentration. Any snacks she liked, anything bunny related, things she'd wanted but deemed far too expensive and pushed aside. Piles of gifts and yet he was sure it still wasn't enough. 

As he shopped, he had many mental apologies prepared. promises and gestures he slightly changed in each scenario in case it could be perceived wrongly. He wasn't prepared last time, but this time he would be. 

She hates surprises, especially ones that involve seeing people when she wasn't planning on it - he’d dismissed this last time due to his own desperation to albeit miserably fail at making amends. He decided to poke a small card through the front door, inviting her out but not forcing her. 

A small bunny illustration on the font, matts wobbly handwriting on the back.

“dotty - i really want to fix this. I shouldn't have done any of the things i did, you deserve so much more than how I've been. I want to be better for you. You don't have to, but i'll be parked outside yours at 10am tomorrow, i'll wait for half an hour and then if you don't show i’ll leave you alone. Im really am sorry.”

The waiting made everything worse, dotty was typically relentlessly punctual, always early. As the clock ticked from 9.54 to 9.55, he felt like maybe he truly had lost her. Matt cradled his face tightly, breathing heavy as a way to concentrate on steadying it. If he'd just always been honest, been there for her more, been someone else.

He knew dotty should have better than him but that idea was far too unbearable to let play out naturally. No one deserves her but she deserves everything. 

Small shy taps came from the passenger window, matts head shot in that direction out of shock. She held her arms nervously, standing in the breeze in her small dress. He sat there wide eyed, having spent hours imagining it play out, he forgot to react when she was actually there in front of him. 

Eventually he snapped out of it, quickly leaving the car to hold open the passenger door for her. She avoided eye contact, looking down at the floor but not moving into the car - like she was holding back what she wanted to say. 

Matt stood a little closer to her, eyebrows lightly furrowed out of concern. He leaned to a press a small kiss to her cheek, noticing a small smile form on her face as she finally lifted her head to face matt. It was only for a second but it was enough that matt mirrored her smile. 

“you look really pretty” he mumbled.

She went in opposite to before, a small frown now forming before she shook her head in dismissal. 

“you are, I mean it.” 

She shook her head a few times more, matts only solution was to press repeated quick kisses over her face. Dotty let out soft giggles, gripping matts shirt for balance as he continued.

He finally stopped to hold her in a full hug, she reached her arms around the back of his neck to reciprocate it. He felt so close to being able to breathe, but she still felt so far away. She pulled him closer but that didn't make him forgiven. The hug lasted longer than was necessary, matt wanted to hold onto her while she let him. 

Dotty was the first to pull back, sniffing slightly as she did.

Matt looked to the ground slightly nervous to speak. “There's presents for you in the car.” 

Dotty looked inside the vehicle a little over-excitedly, looking back to matt and watching as he remained avoidant of her gaze. She used all her confidence to reach up and place her own kiss onto Matt's cheek, watching the heat rise to his face as he failed to hold back a smile. 

“Don't even,” he jokingly warned. “get in the car.”

She sat down still giggling, smiling a little as matt shut the door for her. Matt was likely the most nervous, watching every move of both his and dottys to make sure it played out as he needed it to.

He grabbed the many plastic bags from the back seat, placing them in his lap first. He analysed the contents of each to decide the order to do everything, looking back to notice dotty's agape mouth in shock of just how much he'd gotten her. 

He decided on the stuffed bunnies, placing them delicately on her lap one at a time. She reached slowly to stroke them, emotions overwhelming her as she stared at them and began sniffing again. 

“baby, that's only the first few things” he quietly responded as he tilted his head, watching her begin to cradle the bunnies. 

She dropped them back into her lap and covered her face out of nervousness and embarrassment, matt reached over to pull them away gently. Dottys eyes were glassy staring back at him, matts stomach dropped slightly as he remembered how she had cried because of him before. His eyebrows furrowed from guilt, unable to escape the memory that had taunted his dreams for a week. 

“‘m sorry” he mumbled. “for everything’” 

Dotty stared at matt with sympathy now, reaching her hands and sitting up slightly to cradle his face, forcing him to look at her. He leaned into the palm of her hand, placing his hand over hers to gently caress them. 

“You don't have to forgive me but,” he swallowed out of anxiety. “but i hope you can.”

Her eyes flicked back and forth between his. She reached back to grab her favourite of the bunny rabbits to slowly move it towards matt, making it place a kiss on matts lips, watching intently as a wide grin formed on matts face. Dotty giggled as she pulled it a little further back, smiling wide as matt leaned himself down to place a kiss on the bunny hurriedly. 

He leaned back and took a deep breath to concentrate, focusing on his hands to sign a single phrase.

His expression held concern, worrying of the weight of what he was admitting. Dotty leaned forwards, gripping matts face once again but to place her lips against his. He reciprocated eagerly, the kiss was full of passion and adoration for each other.

They both couldn't bear to pull away, matt barely understanding what hed done to deserve her like this. He reached his hand to her cheek to deepen the kiss, pushing his head further to her direction in complete desperation for her. 

Dotty had to pull back first in order to take repeated deep breaths, eyes locked onto matts as she processed what she just did. Her hands stayed gripping matts shirt, not yet ready for the moment to pass. She only removed one hand to sign the same phrase back at him. 

‘ i love you ‘

a/n R YALL HAPPY NOW 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 this made me miss my wife so im upset

[catfern]

─ restless dreams.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (?)

music: a world of madness - akira yamaoka

word count: 2.3k

summary: you're dead. with how ellie's been coping, she might as well be. that is, until she sees you, or rather, a woman with your face.

WARNINGS: heavy discussions of grief, illness, death. implied hallucinatory sequences, general themes associated with silent hill 2. smut, oral (r!receiving).

cat says ⎯ were ya'll waiting for pyramid head to show up?

if i could be … her.

but i’m not her

and she’s not me.

and you’re somewhere different.

on a different planet.

cold.

the merciless descent of winter had done nothing but bury ellie in a fog. a blur of forgetfulness, of numb reaction.

everyone had told her it would become easier. the festering pain in her joints would fade, the endless congestion in her head, like a dragnet of her slowed thoughts, would release.

“grief is just one of those things that you have to learn to live with.”

ellie wasn’t sure if she was learning. if she knew what that even felt like. what was it, to learn to love an absence? a gaping chasm, in one’s soul?

plagued. the sweetness of your voice lingered like stubborn molasses in her ears, a ghosting touch, nails scratching at her scalp, she could feel it. at least, for a few fleeting moments. in the sticky dark of her bedroom, memories of you clung to her back.

the pavement, slick with thin ice and dirty snow, echoed the song of her footsteps in the empty streets. she needed milk. a sick darkness had descended on the small space of her apartment, and her fridge stunk of something sour.

the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in the bitter wind. she hadn’t been sleeping.

she had thought, maybe, the chill in the air would help her. that the light would snap her from this daze, bring her to see this delusional miasma for what it was. but the wet sun, shrouded in grey, granted no such reprieve. she still saw you everywhere.

the shine of the linoleum tile seemed blinding in artificial light. ellie squinted in the change, her skin dry, pale and discoloured from weeks inside. 

she can feel the clerk’s gaze burning her through her clothes. she shakes the dusting of snowfall off her shoulders, and sees the tracks of mud she’s pulled in from outside. oh.

she scrapes the soles of her sneakers along the peeling grout of the tile, and shuffles her way along the aisles. the rows of fridge doors buzz in the dim silence of the store, there’s something metallic in the air.  

it was a dying habit, beelining for the skim milk. something you had put her on to, with your endless buzzing about dairy. it was comforting, following a path well-trodden through the small grocer, one she had so often taken when she had a softness to return to. her footsteps fell, heavy and loud and ringing her ears, empty.

ellie grunts a hoarse ‘excuse me’ to the woman standing in front of the milk fridge. she wasn’t grabbing anything, just standing … watching the milk as if waiting for it to move. so, ellie figured it was okay to push past. the woman moved back without a word.

the jug felt cool, and almost anchored, beneath ellie’s fingertips. something to latch on to, tangible in this maze of wretched passing time.

“sorry! i didn’t see you there.”

ellie bit so hard into her cheek it drew blood. warm, foreign in her mouth, an iron taste.

your voice was not an uncommon ringing in her ears, in these hellish pastimes. the open world teased her, so often she heard you in a gentle ripple of water, the humming engine of a passing car. but this …

it was you. ripped from fresh fucking dirt.

well, ellie wasn’t sure. a ghost in the corner store was not something she was eager to find, if that’s what this woman was. what you were. she could feel her hand twitching in her jacket pocket, an obsessive itch to reach out, to feel the tangible, the absent real.

your name slips past her lips like a familiar groove in her tongue, and the woman laughs. it’s deeper than yours, jilted, not sweet.

“are you confusing me with someone else?” she asks. no, no, she can’t be. it’s your face, every mapped detail from the haze of her dreams, ripped from your coffin and supplanted here. on this body, obscure.

it could be a mask. ellie could dig her fingernails under your pretty, unblemished skin and tear it off this creature, this … offence. would you bleed the same?

“i-“ the milk jug suddenly felt too cold, burning into the skin of her palm. she hesitated, joints locked, body aching. whatever frantic obscenities ellie had wanted to hurl at her, at you, for the affront of your very existence, dripped back down her throat, made her choke.

the woman tilts her head in anticipation. you don’t do that, you didn’t do that.

it’s not you.

“ellie? you told me you weren’t coming today.”

she can still hear the wheezing undercurrent in your voice, a haunting possession of the brilliance in your body. you weren’t meant to exist somewhere so … clinical.

“i .. wanted to see you.”

your hand ghosts her cheek, the prickling of neglected texture along the bone. she refused to touch you. not like this.

ellie’s breath comes heavy in the heady air of her apartment. she can smell the stale rot in the walls, consuming her with every struggling heave of her lungs.

she had left the fridge door open when she left, the flickering cold light leaving a staggering crack along the darkness. she slumps against the wall of her kitchenette, pressing her hands into her muddy hair, as if trying to hold herself together at the seams.

she was going crazy, wasn’t she?

you’re haunting her. ellie supposes that she knew you would. a spectre, a shadow tethered to her feet. she had hoped, she could push past it, cradle your tenderness close to her heart, lock away the rest. naive.

she had become too complacent with the shell of you that malady had created. she’d forgotten how angry you could get. even from beyond the veil of death.

but it wasn’t you. no, no, ellie reminds herself. that … woman, was a coincidence. a trick of the flickering, sickening lights. her grief had muddled her mind, made her see things that weren’t there.

maybe she so desperately wanted to see you. deep within the dairy aisle. maybe, she no longer had the strength to turn away from you, like she once had. maybe, she just craves something you can no longer provide.

three raps knock the wood of her door, and ellie shakes. visceral.

she doesn’t remember answering, but the threshold was there, her hand warming the cool bronze of her doorknob.

this was just cruel.

“oh! it’s you again!” her smile is a wicked caricature, something hollow. snow sits in her hair, and ellie is blighted with your warmth, ghostly in this empty winter. “sorry, my phone’s dead. i’ve been asking around, is everyone on vacation? you’re the only one that answered the door.”

“wh - what?” ellie couldn’t listen. 

you had broken your nose, as a child, a detail never lost on her in the intimacy of your nights together. she would trace her fingers over the bump the accident left, the irreverent flaws that endeared her, magnetised ellie to your person.

she studied this woman, her … perfections. the faultless slope of the bridge of her nose.

so … she was different? this wasn’t you. ellie wasn’t sure if the constant reminder was her anchor or her chain.

“can i use your landline?”

the question was simple, and ellie ached to oblige. invite her in.

“uh, sure.” it was a hoarse, quiet agreement. she shuffles to the side, carves a path for the stranger, who smiles at her sweetly, tight-lipped, in thanks.

her perfume was different. heavier, something darker. red fruit and earth. it caught in ellie’s nose, unwelcome. your name is a phantom on the dry ridges of her lips, and the woman snickers, the fur collar of her snow-dusted coat ruffling as she turns to meet ellie’s foggy gaze. the glory of what was once your gaze, now shared, was lost on this cheap copy.

“you keep calling me that. what, do i look like your girlfriend?”

ellie chokes on something that is not there.

“n-no, my late wife.” ellie could feel her gravity changing, re-centring. she crosses the floor slowly, listening to every creak of the old floorboards. reverent steps. “you … you could be her twin.”

she laughs, distant and deep, like a joke. like she couldn’t see the lines of desperation, of reaching hope that haunt the withering skin of ellie’s face. couldn’t she see? was she not aware of her own part she played in ellie’s torment?

or was she seperate from it all? was she simply passing through, a tourist in this purgatory?

the woman hangs up the receiver of the phone, having never called anyone. her eyes splay pity on this platter between them.

“i don’t look like a .. ghost, do i?” the teasing lilt in her voice was familiar. it was yours. she purses her lips. “maybe i shouldn’t have come. you’re clearly going through something.”

ellie’s hand darts out to ground itself on her skin, pressing into the bone of her wrist, the base of her body.

“ellie.”

she shook the molasses of your voice from her ears, pressed her eyes shut in beseeching of something free.

“please.” her voice was barely there, small in her throat, but enough to hear in the absence of wherever this was. wherever she has ended up. “you have to tell me who you are, if you’re real.”

the woman pouts, the way you did when you wanted something. her touch is soft, leading, like yours was, as it slips from ellie’s rusting grip and falls back, unceremoniously, onto the leather armchair in the living room. plumes of dust greeted her, only added to the stench in the air, the musk of unforgiving.

“it doesn’t matter who i am.” she says, and ellie almost stumbles after her, her knees aching as she falls, devout, ready to worship, if only this spectre gave her answers. “i know what grief’s like. and … i’m here for you.”

ellie breathes unsteadily, her hands shaking, cool sweat dripping down her back. the woman reaches out in the growing silence between them. her nails were bumpy, bitten down to the quick, covered poorly in thin, pink nail polish, as they scratch gently along ellie’s cheek.

“see? i’m real.”

an illness lined ellie’s stomach. wanton belief … this was real. there was a simplicity in this, in the dream that you had come back to her, after all. flesh warm and alive beneath her fingers, untainted.

“don’t you want to touch me?”

the image of you, of her, bleeds in ellie’s brain. you were asking with a sweetness you knew she could never ignore. temptation rots the soul, but hers had died with you. in your final breath, you had clawed it out of her.

there’s a certain cruelty to her touch, the way ellie splays her decay of passion upon this blank body. control is lost to her here, although a mirage of it echoes in her grip on your thigh, her nails ripping into the stranger’s skin, hoping to study whatever is beneath.

“please, please…” ellie’s voice is soft, chasing a dead docility up the woman’s inner thigh, her tongue pulling a cotton trail into familiar warmth. “i’m sorry…”

your head falls back against the edge of the armchair, soft, sweet whines dripping from the woman’s lips like honey, ellie’s nose pressing into the silk of your cunt, her tongue dazed and ever desperate to taste you. to feel you like you once were, broken, made whole again in the creeping twilight of an oncoming snowstorm.

a low rumble pulls through both of you, her lips a current on your clit, a tremor in the key of her voice. she has to pull herself up on her knees, push herself into your presence, to keep herself there, within this second chance. her body shakes beneath yours, in wait, for something that had long since disappeared.

she groans, something deep and distant below her throat. her tongue dances along the warmth inside you, painting her apologies, her dying grievances along the soft expanse of whatever lay inside, forever unheard. her fingers grip bruises into your stolen skin, a rough yank pulling you towards her.

you had hated when she was rough with you, but were you really here to complain?

“please, i…” her voice is something dark, muffled against your skin. “i need you, i.. you shouldn’t have left me. i’m sorry.”

“that doesn’t matter now.” firm and bitter, dry, calloused hands pull ellie up from her home between your legs. she could nearly whine at the absence of warmth, if the vitriol freeze wasn’t something she had so long deserved, so duly needed. ellie’s touch softens.

“nothing matters now.”

your gaze, her gaze, is scrutinising, painful to hold in her eye. but she needn’t look away, she shouldn’t. otherwise, she was sure you’d disappear. she couldn’t let you, never again. she could keep you alive, deep within the ire of her eye, she could, she was so sure.

something stings within her. feeling, it prickles back into ellie’s body like she’d been long asleep.

“i miss you,” ellie’s voice breaks against the cool, unwavering hand of the strange woman, the absence of mercy she so desperately sought. a sob shakes, sore in the column of her neck. the pain was welcome. “so, so much.”

tears run hot, her spine crooked as she falls back, looking up at you with a newly discovered vulnerability. you look at her, your eyes cold with pity and hate.

“i love you.” she chokes, begging like you’ll listen. “come back to me, i love you still.”

you shake your head. you won’t. ellie doesn’t deserve that kindness. no longer, anyway.

your wife slumps forward, pressing her face into the softness of your thigh like that would mean forgiveness, like that would bring back the innocence she had sorely stolen from you. your hand, with jagged nails, runs through ellie’s hair. brick wall comfort.

when you speak, your voice lingers in her ears like a bad hangover. it’s not yours, not anymore. whatever was left of you was rotten, spiteful.

“are you afraid?”

ellie sobs, loud in the impending silence.

there was something here. it’s gone now.

tag list: @r3starttt

[poetrysmackdown]

welcome to the 2023 tumblr poetry smackdown

tumblr has developed something of a canon of poetry over the past couple years, and i figured others might enjoy getting a chance to voice their opinions on a few of those poems! poems i chose for the poetry smackdown had to be more or less widely read on tumblr (generally 10k+ notes, most with more or spread across compilations), and relatively short so as to make voting easier. they also had to be complete—there are a lot of popular lines floating around on tumblr that are excerpted from very long poems and/or poems that are inaccessible via internet, and those aren't included here. a handful of poets are represented here twice reflecting my sense of their popularity, but i arranged the bracket in such a way that it won't be able to stay that way past round 2 at the latest. if i missed a poem that is super popular i'm sorry, that said the bracket is staying as is because this was a shit ton of work to put together and i don't want to. ty.

you can get to the polls by following the links below or going to the #round1 tag on my blog. you can also send me propaganda if you want via ask and i'll post it/add it to the next round's post if the poem wins.

happy voting!

sincerely amelia @poetriarchy :)

ROUND 1: ENDS JULY 17 at 6pm EDT

"The Two-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin vs. "Butter Dish" by Leonard Cohen (cow poems)

"Poem" by Langston Hughes vs. "A Meeting" by Wendell Berry

"Miss you. Would like to grab that chilled tofu we love." by Gabrielle Calvocoressi vs. "My Sister, Who Died Young, Takes Up The Task" by Jon Pineda

"Hammond B3 Organ Cistern" by Gabrielle Calvocoressi vs. "Hong Kong" by Sue Zhao

"someone will remember us" (fragment by Sappho trans. Anne Carson) vs. "Wait" by Faraj Bou al-Isha trans. Khaled Mattawa

"The Quiet World" by Jeffrey McDaniel vs "Invisible Fish" by Joy Harjo

"Want" by Joan Larkin vs. "Come, and Be My Baby" by Maya Angelou

"Swan" by Mary Oliver vs. "How I Go to the Woods" by Mary Oliver

"The Orange" by Wendy Cope vs. "The Tenor of Your Yes" by Mary Ruefle

"Here There Are Blueberries" by Mary Syzbist vs. "Instructions on Not Giving Up" by Ada Limón

"To The Young Who Want to Die" by Gwendolyn Brooks vs. "A Litany for Survival" by Audre Lorde

"Night Walk" by Franz Wright vs. "Meditations in an Emergency" by Cameron Awkward-Rich

"Summer Was Forever" by Chen Chen vs. "I'm not a religious person but" by Chen Chen

"How to Be a Dog" by Andrew Kane vs. "Scheherazade" by Richard Siken

"I'm going to Minnesota where sadness makes sense" by Danez Smith vs. "Dream Song 29" by John Berryman

"Having a Coke with You" by Frank O'Hara vs. "Having 'Having a Coke with You' with You" by Mark Leidner

ADDENDUM: at 6pm on July 17th (or possibly a day earlier if there's already a clear sweep), I will be releasing a one-day poll that will give voters the option to sub in "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver for the winner of matchup #8: "Swan" vs. "How I Go to the Woods". this is to help correct my significant oversight when I was remembering which two Oliver poems I've seen most on tumblr, and it's the only time I'm doing this kind of thing, so don't suggest it for any other poems after this please. that said, a sincere ty to @darkcomedies for first bringing its absence to my attention! and keep an eye out for this extra poll which i am calling ROUND 1.5: A HAIL MARY (OLIVER)

[locatebiome]

Hello hello! I'm especially curious on your headcanons of Herobrine as a romantic partner 👀 If you don't mind sharing!

MAKES OUT WITH YOU SLOPPY STYLE FOR SENDING THIS

sorry to keep you waiting anon, it took me a few days to answer because i had a LOT to say!! thank you so much for giving me the chance to ramble about this ahhhh i love him so much <333 everyone reading this you are Encouraged to tell me what you think, i LOVE seeing people's reactions to my guy!!

one MILLION bullet points under the cut because this got LONG. enjoy!!

I see Herobrine as bi/pan, demisexual, and some flavor of aromantic spectrum, though he doesn't know that vocabulary exists and doesn't care to find out. He definitely does experience feelings that could probably be classified as romantic attraction if he wanted to put a label to it (he does not). In fact, he tends to be put off by hard lines drawn between "close friendship" and "romantic relationship", and to a lesser extent, labels in general; he'll happily take you out for dinner and kiss you under the stars, but he can't call it "a date".

As previously mentioned in an ask game, Herobrine is incredibly slow to trust. The first several times someone looks out for him, or tries to include him in something, or is bummed out by his absence, he has no idea how to respond and usually freezes for a few seconds, then tries to joke about it to remove any potential for emotional depth, or just ignores it entirely. As time goes on and that person continues to reach out without leveraging their niceties against him as a bargaining chip, he begins to accept their kindness at face value and responds more genuinely.

He responds similarly to being given gifts. If it's something practical that he'd want more of (example: redstone components), he might fake gratitude at first to encourage more of the same, followed by suspicion when the gifts pass the threshold of "too" nice, and eventually real appreciation. Once you've seen his actual gratitude, the difference between genuine and fake thankfulness is striking; when faking it, he's smooth and articulate, approving but aloof. When actually thankful, he gets excited over the details of the gift for a minute, and only if you're lucky, will he remember to thank you for it afterward. (That's okay, seeing a genuine smile from him is usually thanks enough.)

As you may have gathered, Herobrine isn't big on words of affirmation. He has a reputation to maintain, after all. His affection is better expressed through keeping hostile mobs off your back, bringing you on adventures, giving thoughtful gifts, being a massive fucking annoyance, teasing, physical touch, and setting non-lethal traps.

"aw cute wait what was that last thing" ok in his defense, this one's not entirely his fault. First of all, one of the ways the universe itself shows love is by giving you things to do and explore, challenging you, rewarding you for getting through it, and due to his unique awareness of the universe as a whole, that "love language" bleeds into his mannerisms as well. Secondly, after so long interacting with humanity in the role of the boogeyman, Herobrine kind of... doesn't know anything else. And hey, him putting in the extra effort to make sure his traps can't inflict more than a few bruises or scrapes means he likes you!

The good news is, as long as you're close with him, hostile mobs will never bother you ever again. And if they do, he'll make a show out of intimidating said mobs and getting across the point "they're with me." which some viewers may find attractive. (This will end up teaching Casey some really bad habits later in We Are The Daylight LOL)

That's convenient, because one of his greatest joys in life is savoring the awe on someone's face when confronted with the beauty of the natural world and/or the complexity of his projects; which is easier to achieve without mobs being a distraction. He's always enjoyed exploring weird formations or experimenting with contraptions, but if he enjoys your presence, getting to do that and banter with you at the same time is even better.

One can only hope you feel the same, because you're not getting a choice in the matter. He'll just show up, interrupt whatever you're doing, and goad you into/physically drag you into coming with.

This leads nicely into my next point, which is that Herobrine is really fucking annoying. He'll appear without warning to make you jump, offer unprompted commentary and ominous "advice"(?), and says shit like "dude why'd you do that?" when you make an obviously unintentional mistake. guy who teleports behind you just to say "nothing personnel kid 😎". And as the two of you get closer, this begins to include insufferable play-flirting (until the plausible deniability is no longer plausible and it's clearly just. flirting.)

However, he also quietly looks out for you in his own ways. If you offhandedly mention wanting a specific thing, or if he notices you being inconvenienced by lacking something, he'll either make it himself or keep an eye out for it until he can find one and give it to you. If you get hurt, he'll carry on about how reckless and stupid humans are, and won't let you go anywhere until he's had the chance to look at it and cast a quick healing command. When exploring, you'll often come across small signs of his presence, ranging from strangely symmetrical nooks and crannies in a cave, to lone redstone torches, to flowers that are somehow growing underground. As well as... not so small signs of his presence (i.e. corridors lined with traps).

Herobrine likes to show you jaw-dropping caves and vistas, point out constellations until you're falling asleep under the night sky, explore ancient structures and biomes you've never seen before floating by your side, teach you dances he picked up from illager and piglin culture... If he had to pick just one "love language", ultimately it'd boil down to sharing the universe with you.

For all his teasing and unusual ideas of affection, when you're actually truly upset, he does want to help (much to his own chagrin). His methods can be abrasive, as his go-to strategy is to pester you until you tell him what's bothering you (he's very "do as I say, not as I do" in this regard, I fear). But if you make it clear that talking about it right now wouldn't help, he'll switch to much gentler tactics, and attempt to distract you or just be a quiet, calming presence for once. Surprisingly, he gives really good back rubs, which is his go-to strategy to calm someone down and cheer them up a little.

Especially post-banishment, Herobrine is possibly the most touch-starved individual alive. I don't think he could ever be the first to initiate physical contact in a relationship, but once you've gotten to the point where you can playfully punch his arm or roll your eyes and push him away when he's fucking with you, he's the touchiest mfer on the planet. Constantly leaning on you to be obnoxious, ruffling your hair to say hello or good-bye, grabbing your hand to lead you places, flexing his height by resting his chin on the top of your head (he's 6'0" btw) (if you're taller than him he'll simply float to make up the difference anyway) (says he's 5'10" to make other guys panic about their height). Pulling you closer to wrap his arms around you and bury his face in your shoulder during quiet moments in the morning or at night. Melting into the touch helplessly when you cup his jaw. When in bed together, he's either the big spoon or using your chest as a pillow.

He's especially fixated on heartbeats. When laying around or leaning on each other comfortably, he'll slide his hand up your arm and idly rest his fingertips on your pulse. When his hands are near your hands or wrists for any other reason, before moving away he usually checks your pulse without thinking about it. It's almost like he needs to keep reassuring himself you're still alive. His favorite pulse point is the carotid artery because its beat feels so strong, but grabbing someone's neck isn't really something you can do casually so it's saved for special occasions (emotionally-vulnerable cuddling, after waking up from a nightmare and accidentally waking you in the process, sexual encounters, etc.)

It doesn't come up a lot because he doesn't hang out in populated public spaces a lot, but he has absolutely NO shame around PDA. Herobrine is already used to being stared at wherever he goes anyway; so let 'em stare, fuck are they gonna do about it? Confront him? Yeah, right. The majority of the time he doesn't care either way, but sometimes, if someone's really annoying him, he'll get more physically affectionate just to fuck with them.

Similarly, he wouldn't get the chance very often, but if someone else is talking to you and making you uncomfortable? I think he would fucking relish the opportunity to be all threatening and intimidating until they back off. He likes feeling helpful! (He likes being protective.)

Over time, as he gets more and more comfortable with the relationship dynamic, Herobrine doesn't mind you or outside observers referring to the two of you as the romantic partner of the other. Honestly, he might even like it :] Deep down, he's fond of the idea of you being his human.

[drabblesandimagines]

Moon Cycles

Pointless Halsin fluff, afab reader - mentions of period

You wake alone, which is not unusual, but there is a dull, somewhat unfamiliar ache in your stomach, encompassing your pelvis.

It had been many months since your last moon cycle, just before you’d been kidnapped and a tadpole had slithered through your eye. You had been concerned you’d been with child – nightmares of a half mindflayer baby erupting from your stomach – but no such thing had come to pass. You’d confessed to Halsin one night and he’d assured you in times of high stress that it was not unheard of for moon cycles to pause, until your body settled back into a natural rhythm of things.

Now, as you recall how generally awful they made you feel, you wonder why you’d ever worried about their absence.

You turn and nuzzle your head into your partner’s pillow, closing your eyes and inhaling his lingering scent, trying to imagine he’s still there.

Halsin is an early riser, up often before dawn itself. He likes to start off each day with a patrol around the perimeter in his wildshaped bear to make sure it remains safe and secure for his community. You used to wake as soon as his arm released its hold on your waist, a mumbled protest before warm lips pressed against your forehead in a kiss.

“Rest, sweet one.”

He’d tuck the furs back up around your shoulders, smoothing a large palm over your hair back and forth until you settled and you’d soon sink back into slumber, despite how often you promised yourself that today was going to be the day you joined him on his duty. It had been a while now since you’d woke at his departure, but the way you woke up every morning with the furs tucked just so, you knew he still made sure you were warm and content before he left.

His absence this morning gnaws at you more than any other - a stupidly desperate need for comfort as the ache worsens. You, the hero, the savior of Baldur’s Gate reduced to sulking in your bedroll over your moon cycle.

Despite how much you want to remain curled up, the children’s voices grow louder and louder from outside your hut. They too are early risers, though know to wait until the sun is at least risen in the sky. You wince as you get to your feet, the pain seeming to grow worse the more awake you become.

But there are hungry mouths to feed.

With a resigned sigh, you force yourself to wash your face and dress and feel guilty for the smile you plaster on as you retreat from your hut to be greeted by a chorus of orphans.

--

It was an accident.

Yenna and a couple of the other children had been chasing one another – a lovely sight to see after all the atrocities they’d witnessed, of course – but they’d grown a little too rambunctious, not looking where they were going, too consumed in their game. The large pot of porridge you’d made now lay on its side, dropping it when Yenna had crashed into your side at speed.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles, looking truly horrified as you stared at the split porridge. You should say something – anything – to console her, but no words come.

You cut her off with a sob as you drop to your knees, overwhelmed. You can’t do this.

“I can make more! I promise I can,” Yenna blurts out, trying to heave the pot back upright. Little fingers begin to prod at you, demanding what’s wrong as you bury your head into your knees.

“By Silvanus, what’s happened here?” Halsin’s voice booms as he enters the clearing, taking in the scene before him. The children’s attention is diverted towards him immediately, all scrambling towards him.

“Yenna bumped into Mama and she dropped the porridge pot!”

“Is anyone hurt?”

A young tiefling girl tugs at his tunic. “Daddy Halsin, Mama is crying.”

“Mama is…” Halsin’s voice drifts off as he searches for you, finding you curled up in on yourself – a most unwelcome sight. He hurries over to you at once, dropping to his knee and laying a hand on your arm cautiously, scanning you over.

“Are you injured, my heart?”

You lift your head, tears streaming down your face, shaking it frantically. “N-no, I just… I-”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He wraps you up in his arms at once, pulling you flush against his chest as he feels your body tremble and brings you up to your feet. “Tasha, please will you go fetch Art and a few other of the adults?”

Tasha nods, hurrying off in the direction of the other huts before Halsin steps the two of you in the direction of your own. “I will be with you in just a moment, darling. Go lay down.”

You nod again, trying to wipe the tears from your cheeks with the heel of your hand as you quickly scurry back into your sanctuary, making for the bedroll at once.

Halsin turns to settle the rest of the waiting children, all unsure as to what they have just witnessed. “Now, then, I see some fine fruits and honey laid out that will satisfy any rumbling tummies until a new batch of porridge is ready, hm?”

“I’m so sorry,” Yenna apologises again, mortified. “I didn’t look where I was going and I didn’t mean to make her trip.”

Halsin crouches down to face her as a handful of children begin to help themselves to the sundries on the table. “It is all right, Yenna. Those tears are not for split porridge, I am certain.”

--

Your tears have dwindled to soft hiccups as you lay on your side, knees tucked up into your chest when the door opens and quietly shuts once more. Halsin is quick to lay behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a long kiss to your crown before he speaks.

“Your moon cycle has returned.”

You twist in his arms, wanting to see his face. “How did you know?”

He smiles, sheepishly. “Truthfully, I could smell something different about you when I rose this morning. I should’ve stayed.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“I would’ve insisted you stay in bed whilst I brewed you a tea to relieve the pain. I was ambitious, thinking I could complete my patrol and return before you woke.”

“Stop blaming yourself. I am the one who sobbed over split porridge. Poor Yenna.”

“Yenna is fine, my heart. In fact, she is making a new batch as we speak, aided by Art.” He begins to rub a circle with his palm on your lower back.

“I feel such a fool.”

“That is one thing you can never be.” Halsin presses a kiss upon your forehead as you begin to relax in his embrace. “Allow me to prepare a warm compress and the tea, and then I shall dote on you for however long.”

“We do not have time to be doted or doting on one another-”

“We do – I insist upon it.” His tone is firm – reminiscent of his Archdruid days. “Yenna is quite keen to take over cooking responsibilities the rest of the day. Enid is going to take the younger ones down to harvest the vegetable patches. The camp will survive without us.”

You wince as a cramp starts, digging your nails into his arm.

“I cannot bear to see an ounce of pain across your brow, my heart. I must go prepare that tea.”

You’re reluctant to let go, feeling pathetic as you pout. “And then more cuddles?”

Halsin leans down and presses a long, gentle kiss on your lips. “With the Oak Father as my witness, the cuddles will be endless.”

--

I am sad and I'd just like some Halsin cuddles, please hence... whatever this is.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[bloody-cupcakes]

Jason Dean x yandere/dark! reader; you surprise him with slushies for breakfast

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, suggestive stuff/frank sex talk as well as implied sex/smutish activities, mentions of insomnia, implied murder, the reader is very clingy and affectionate with JD (almost to a smothering amount but he doesn't mind), this is one of the more tame things I've written tbh

A/N: this is a twist on the "one character gets a blue drink and the other gets a red so naturally their tongues become purple by making out" trope. I literally wrote this in thirty minutes so I could have something posted for heathers day, which is September 1st, so if this sucks then that's why and I'm sorry (and then I got distracted and forgot so it's a day late oops)

JD used to think he hated sleeping in general, but after meeting you he just realized he hated sleeping alone. Laying in bed after downing half a bottle of melatonin gummies while waiting for sleep to kick in wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. Lucky for him, you had plenty ways of resolving that issue.

Admittedly, they did a pretty good job at working effectively given that most of them involved you physically wearing him out. Whether it was with murder or sex, either way certainly made it easier for him to slip into a state of exhaustion and conk out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He didn't mind much. In fact, the act of you tiring him out as quickly as possible once he complained about being unable to sleep was one that he quite enjoyed. He preferred to stay with you anyway. There was nothing at his house that made it worth sticking around other than the few vague personal effects of his, and most of them he'd transferred over to your place already.

The sun was already starting to peek through the blinds when he woke up, which signified he must've slept for a good long while. That didn't surprise him given just how late the two of you had stayed up the night before, but what did surprise him was your absence. Usually you waited until he woke up to leave the bed, or at the very least told him if you were going to get up.

Thank god you walked into the room a few minutes later, because otherwise he would've started to panic, and that was definitely not something he wanted to be doing so early in the morning.

"Hey, baby," you greeted as you kicked off your shoes and set two large Styrofoam cups you'd gotten from the 7/11 near your house on the nightstand. "Did you sleep well?"

JD could practically feel his heartbeat start to slow back down once he saw you. You hadn't abandoned him, you just went out to get some slushies. No problem.

"Mh, yeah," he mumbled groggily as he sat up in the bed, watching you slip off his trenchcoat and toss it to the side. If he had been more awake, the sight of you wearing his clothes would've given him an instant boner, but the drowsiness he still felt was currently cancelling that out.

"Good, I'm glad." You sat down on the bed next to him, gently smoothing his messy hair back from his face before handing him one of the Styrofoam cups. "Here, I know how much you crave slushies the night after sex."

He gladly took the cup from you, immediately taking a big sip. "Thanks." It still felt weird, having someone being so affectionate and loving with him after everything he'd been through. A huge part of him felt like he didn't deserve it, but he knew you'd never leave him even if that was true. Something about how attached you were should've been unnerving, but JD was pretty unnerving himself so he wasn't bothered by it.

"Did you seriously wear your pajamas to go get slushies?" He asked after a moment, his brain finally catching up as he began to wake up more. The cold, sweet drink in his hands certainly helped matters.

"Well, I wasn't going to put on real clothes," you insisted lightheartedly before drinking some of your own slushie, which just so happened to be the opposite color of his. "Besides, we both know they're not going to stay on much longer anyway."

"Oh god," he muttered under his breath, though he was unable to keep the faint smirk of amusement off his face when you said that.

"Here, lemme have your drink for a moment." You placed both cups back on the nightstand before grabbing his face and pulling him in for a hungry kiss. He suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers as he hadn't gotten properly dressed yet.

"C'mon, I wasn't finished," he complained with a slight huff even as he let you push him flat onto his back with no other protest.

"You can finish later. For now, I say we take the blue and red from our drinks and make purple." Your voice came out in a low tease when you spoke, your body hovering over his as you leaned down to capture his lips in another kiss.

Both of your tongues were successfully colored purple and your drinks were no longer cold when you were done, but it was so worth it.

[hb-writes]

Voicemail

Day 6 prompt (600 words) for 10 days to 1K: Voicemail

Fandom: The Pitt

Characters: Dr. Robby-mentioned, Maya Bennett (OC)

—

Maya had been drifting off when her phone started buzzing, the vibration against the desk startling her and garnering the attention of everyone in Professor Church’s lecture. She hadn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention, but all eyes were on her as she scrambled to send the call to voicemail, her heart rate spiking as she noted the name on the screen. 

“Sorry!” Maya offered, heat blooming in her cheeks as her professor resumed his lecture. Her classmates’s attention followed, allowing Maya to focus on the voice to text transcription of Robby’s voicemail. By the end of the message, a heavy rock of dread had dropped in Maya’s stomach. 

She thought that odd considering she’d spent half the day filled with dread. For a few hours now, Maya had expected a call from the man she thought of as a father, ever since she’d accidentally answered Jake’s facetime, giving him an unintended view of the bruises she’d spent the last four days hiding. 

Maya had been so careful—avoiding Robby or Jake or anyone who worked with her dad in the Pitt since Sunday. She had presented herself as exceedingly busy between work and school, easily explaining away the uncharacteristic delays in answering texts and calls. 

But she hadn’t been busy with work or school—in fact, Maya hadn’t left the house in days. She’d spent most of her time sleeping and what little time she spent awake, she’d used to manage her absences and keep up appearances. Looking at her phone or laptop for too long made her headache and nausea worse, so mostly, Maya had spent the last few days napping and just getting by. 

Thankfully, the nausea had dissipated this morning, only for her call with Jake to make her want to throw up all over again. For the first time in ages, bribery hadn’t been enough to sway her pseudo-brother from tattling. 

Maya was actually surprised it had taken this long for Robby’s call to come—she’d talked with Jake just before noon when her roommate had come home on lunch break to help make Maya presentable, covering the bruising with a heavy layer of expertly applied makeup. Either Jake had waited a bit to tell Robby or her dad was having a hell of a day and he was just getting to her now.

She hoped it was the first one. 

Robby didn’t usually order Maya around, especially now that she was an adult. She was in grad school. She worked. She’d moved out. She paid most of her own bills, and though she sometimes only took care of “adulty” stuff because Robby gave her firm-ish reminders, she generally managed things on her own. 

But as Maya reviewed the transcription again, her imagination delivering the words in Robby’s voice, complete with the assumed tone and pauses and all the little sounds the transcription software didn’t catch, she determined it was very clearly an order and he was very clearly unhappy. 

More dread settled in her then which seemed impossible considering how much she already carried. Maya had been considering skipping her last class and heading home for the day, but the voicemail gave her pause. Maya knew she’d have to face Robby eventually, but she needed time to collect herself first. And she wanted to call Jake—to yell at him and to do recon. Even though she could imagine how mad Robby was in general, it was better to know how Jake’s conversation had gone. She needed to know a little more than Robby’s message:

I spoke with Jake. Come to the Pitt when you get this.

—

The Pitt Masterlist

Part 2

[barleyo]

Deck the Halls.

Tendou Satori X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: frequent posts? from me? what a rare sight, someone take a picture! i know this is super super short, but i thought it was a cute idea.

Tags: Christmas fic, one shot/short fic, established relationship, timeskip tendou obv, handjobs, oral (m receiving)

Wordcount: 400-ish

Having a chocolatier as a boyfriend really paid off, especially around Christmas time. Any little treat you dreamt up, he brought to life. Endless homemade hot chocolate, cookies, brittles and barks of all kinds.

What you loved most, though? The advent calendar. Every day, Tendou would usher you into the kitchen to open the treat of the day. 

He started off strong on day one. Some sort of lemon and white chocolate bar, complete with zest and edible glitter. The next was a toffee and chocolate covered pretzel with sea salt. Each day seemed to get better and better, so, reasonably, you looked forward most to the big day. 

You woke up on Christmas Eve, padding down to the kitchen without Tendou. You hadn't noticed his absence from your bed, too focused on what your newest sweet would be. Maybe he had tried something new and outlandish, or perhaps he perfected a more tame, classic recipe? Either way, you were practically beaming as you reached into the handmade calendar hanging on the wall. 

Your hand brushed against a piece of paper. Strange. You pulled it out with one hand, skimming over it while your other hand grabbed at that day's item. 

'Sorry, got lazy. Still love me? ;)'

Clever devil. You smiled at the bottle of strawberry flavored lube.

"Ah, slow down," he said with a chuckle, feeling the cool, sticky lube coat the length of his cock. "That's a little much, don't you think?"

"Whatever happened to the spirit of Christmas? Can't I be generous?"

You wrapped your hand around his once you were satisfied with the slick mess you made. As you pumped Tendou, the almost sickeningly sweet scent of the lube filled your senses. Something so strong would normally give you a headache, but a different kind of haze filled your brain when you saw how flushed his face was getting. 

You gave a small lick to the head, tongue gliding over his slit. It tasted artificial and sweet— not quite as good as his natural taste, but you enjoyed it enough to place another tactful lick to the underside of him. 

You could tell he was loving this, perhaps a little too much, with his smug grin and raised eyebrows. Looking up at him from between his thighs, you popped off of his cockhead, stilling your greedy tongue. 

"Why are you looking at me like that, silly?" you asked, tasting the residue still on your lips. 

"Oh, nothing," he said, grin widening, "just looks like you're enjoying yourself."

You huffed, leaning down to lick a thick strip down his length. 

"Sure am. This is the best thing I've tasted all month from you."

Tendou mumbled something incoherently as you began to take him deeper in your throat, hands placed on his thighs. After a second, your playful insult dawned on him. 

"Hey, wait a second!"